Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Only Slightly Inappropriate... ❯ Only Slightly Inappropriate... ( Chapter 1 )

This is a short story I wrote as a practice for my creative writing class. Comments, Criticisms and/or Critiques are welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

Only Slightly Inappropriate

By: Candace Carpenter

 

 

Adrian Pope sat in her seat while she pretended to be utterly fascinated by the patterns her fingers traced on the notebook sitting on her desk. She didn't know the answer, though it was her own fault for not doing her work like she should have done. Please don't call on me…please don't call on me…her mind chanted to itself. She peeked through the dark brown hair that partially shaded her face from view to see him staring at her.

 

His dark blue eyes pierced her, almost as if he had heard her mind crying out for him to ignore her. But…wait… What was that look? His eyes shimmered with amusement and a smirk crossed his face. Adrian's heart stopped and every fiber of her being halted in dreaded anticipation.

 

“Mr. Patterson, if you would be so kind as to tell us the answer?” Adrian couldn't help but notice that he still looked at her, even as he addressed the other student. His eyes lowered to his book as the said Mr. Patterson stumbled over his words, trying to form an ambiguous answer to a question that no one knew the answer to.

 

Adrian's breath returned and she looked back to her notebook. What was the matter with her? It just seemed that every time she came to this class she went completely insane. She couldn't think straight, and she couldn't follow what was being taught, even though it seemed she did nothing but concentrate on the teacher…his voice…the way his hair-

 

STOP IT! She interrupted her own train of thought, shocked at herself. With fist clenching around the purple-inked pen she held, Adrian took a deep breath. It was only a couple weeks into the semester, and this was the only class she didn't have a handle on yet. Who cared about the overtone series, the different modes, or the rules of writing counterpoint? This was definitely not what she had in mind when she began here. Nor did she have in mind the brown haired, blue-eyed teacher that seemed to enjoy her uneasiness with a relish that could only be described as sadistic.

 

He was pleasant to look at though, as much as it unnerved her to think of him that way, and she found her eyes lifting slowly back to his position as he paced across the front of the room. He was teaching, even though he was only 24 years old. A graduate student assigned to teach the beginning Music Theory course to the incoming freshmen. A smirk played on her lips as her eye caught the small line of a tattoo on the back of his neck. What was it? It looked like the end of a lightening bolt, or the tail of something. Whatever it was, the rest of it disappeared beneath the dark green polo shirt he wore. She had never noticed that before…

 

This line of thinking was dangerous. He was her teacher! Not to mention the age difference. That guy wouldn't look twice at me anyway. Ironically, this thought crossed her mind the second he turned around, immediately making eye contact with her. Adrian dropped her eyes and turned her head, embarrassed first for being caught staring, secondly for acting like paying attention to her teacher during class was something to get embarrassed about. When she heard him continue speaking, she felt safe enough to raise her head.

 

Big mistake.

 

He was smiling, answering another student's question, and he looked positively dreamy. Oh god…did I just think the word dreamy? If she was like this only a couple weeks into the class, she was in big trouble. She had to get out of here. What time was it?

 

She looked at the clock on the wall above the chalk board. It showed only five minutes left before class ended. Five minutes…that's all she had to endure. She heard him sigh, and looked up.

 

“Well, that's it for today. I'm not in the habit of letting my classes out early, so don't get used to it.” He laughed under his breath and sat in the chair behind his desk. Adrian closed her notebook and stood, but froze when she heard him speak to her. “Ms. Pope, I need a word with you before you leave.” Without looking at him, Adrian put her notebook back on her desk and walked to the front of the room.

 

“Is something wrong?” she asked innocently. Where could she look so she didn't have to look directly at him? Above his head? No… At his desk? No!

 

“No, nothing's wrong. You just seemed…out of sorts today.” That did make her look at him. The look on his face was so smug. Was he torturing her on purpose?

 

“I just didn't have time to study, or review the homework that was assigned. And I really don't like being unprepared.” Her excuse sounded plausible, even to her, since it was partially the truth. Self-satisfied, Adrian lifted her chin a little higher. That's when she heard it. The heavy door to the third music room slammed shut, leaving her alone in the room with him.

 

“If that's all you wanted to say, I have another class to get to.” Adrian quickly turned and headed back to her desk. She stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Look, I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant at all.” Adrian turned to look up at him. His blue eyes were serious as he looked down at her and she met them with hesitation. He looked away as he spoke again, this time his words soft. “You haven't said two words to me since you started this class. Do you even remember who I am Adrian?”

 

Did she remember? Of course she remembered!

 

“I remember you, Aiden. You were in the first class I ever taught.” Adrian smiled up at him. “The first two classes anyway,” she laughed. “You failed my English class the first time through.” He laughed.

 

“But I made it the second time around.” He smiled and looked at her. “Both times it was insanely hard to concentrate.”

 

There it was; that boyish grin of his that had her questioning every moral and ethical value through her first two years as a teacher. And now, here she was, 31 years old and returning for a second bachelor's degree in music education, since the school she had been working for had given her the leave of absence for the opportunity.

 

And now Aiden Fischer was her teacher…

 

Adrian didn't need to be the English teacher she was to know irony when it laughed in her face. He had been a lovesick teenager then, fantasizing about his new, young teacher. And it had taken everything within her, and much prayer, not to fantasize right back.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said turning away from her and heading back to his desk. “I'm keeping you from your next class.” There was a pang in her heart.

 

“I don't have anymore classes today,” she confessed. He didn't turn around, but began gathering his papers and text.

 

“Would you let me buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked, finally turning to face her. Adrian almost dropped her notebook. “So we can catch up…” He had that look in his eyes again; the same look he had when he was 17. The same look he had the last time she had seen him. She knew what could happen if she said yes, and seven years was a long time, but Aiden had no ring on his finger. Neither did she…

 

“Isn't it inappropriate for a teacher to take his student out for a cup of coffee?” she asked, pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder. He smiled that boyish grin and Adrian held the strap tightly for all she was worth.

 

“Only slightly…” he answered after a pause. Adrian smiled, and walked through the door he held open for her. They walked through the building and made their way to the faculty parking lot. Once outside, he hesitantly took her hand in his and asked softly, “Have you missed me?”

 

Adrian squeezed his hand and smiled, her heart racing like a lovesick teenager.

 

“Only slightly…”

 

 

 

 

 

The End