Hot For Teacher by Liv Morris, Mandee Mae, M.C. Cerny, Phalla S. Rios, Niquel, Missy Johnson, Carly Grey, Amalie Silver, Elle Bright, Vicki Green, Nicole Blanchard
Authors: Liv Morris, Mandee Mae, M.C. Cerny, Phalla S. Rios, Niquel, Missy Johnson, Carly Grey, Amalie Silver, Elle Bright, Vicki Green, Nicole Blanchard
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the bus stop.” Aiden shuts his own book and tosses things into his leather messenger bag that I envy. My own bag has been sewn back together several times since my freshman year of high school. It’s one of the few things I have from my grandmother who encouraged me to stay in school. I used patches of whatever fabric I had to keep the damn thing together. If I had the money, I would have bought a new pretty brown leather bag. I figure if it’s lasted this long, it must be a sign from my grandmother to keep going.
“Edie?” Aiden asks again and I drag myself back to the conversation. Shelby is quiet and focused on braiding my hair, gently pulling and weaving, lulling me.
“Um, okay. I’m sure I could use the protein before I donate to the vampires, earning me my big twenty dollar gift card.” I hear both Shelby and Aiden snort in their cutesy couple language that just screams they don’t approve of my money-grubbing habits. Luckily for them, they will never know what that is like. Neither of them have to worry about making it on their own and hording an emergency account of money just in case my scholarship money is late or discontinued each semester.
“Okay, I’m all done. Tie?”
I hand the elastic band to Shelby and she secures my French braid, or what I think is a French braid. We grab our stuff and go to our separate classes…Muscular Biology for Aiden, Sculpting for Shelby, and Satan’s Statistics for me.
I walk down the hall and walk into the classroom. Trying hard to remain obscure, I sit in the back closest to the door. It’s the easiest route of escape if we are going to have another shitty pop quiz my already stressed brain can’t handle. If I had known what a dick this professor was, I probably would have saved it for the spring semester instead of doing it now. My rent on my studio apartment was due, and I was a little behind on my utility bill because I keep forgetting to buy stamps. The only disorganized thing I probably do, because I hate having to track down stamp machines, or go to the post office. They won’t let me pay online, which would be freaking cheaper to do if the jerk-holes at the energy company updated their technology infrastructure. It doesn’t help that I refuse to have a computer of my own, just using the 24-hour computer labs on campus. I already cut my cellphone down to just texting because there is no one for me to call that can’t reach me via a simple 144 character text… sue me for being cheap. I sit down and see that annoying TA, Daniel Munson, taking attendance, but no professor yet. Maybe, just maybe, we’d luck out. It is an unspoken rule, if there is no professor twenty minutes after the start of class, all of us responsible students would bolt for the door. We still have twelve minutes left, but who’s counting? Looking down, I pick at a string on my already worn jeans, trying to blend into the lecture hall scenery.
“Edith Willows.” I hate this TA calling my name, mostly because he’s annoying and acts superior just because he’s a math whiz. If you want to see a real math whiz, let me show you my coupon collection.
“Hey, that’s you, girl.” My classmate nudges me and I raise my hand, not looking up.
“Uh, thanks.” I mumble, finally looking up to make sure the TA from hell marks my presence. As he checks me off, I see our new professor walk into the room. I feel my heart skip a beat, leaving me ready to dry heave.
“Wow, hot damn,” the girl next to me whispers, dropping her pencil and book to the floor right next to me, drawing half the classes attention to our corner of the room. Crap, this is not good. It is mortifying to see this man again after several years of keeping him firmly locked away in my fantasies.
Jack Hamilton is teaching this course? Jack-fucking-god-like-Hamilton is teaching my last block of statistics? ! There is no way in hell I am going to get through this
“Edie?” Aiden asks again and I drag myself back to the conversation. Shelby is quiet and focused on braiding my hair, gently pulling and weaving, lulling me.
“Um, okay. I’m sure I could use the protein before I donate to the vampires, earning me my big twenty dollar gift card.” I hear both Shelby and Aiden snort in their cutesy couple language that just screams they don’t approve of my money-grubbing habits. Luckily for them, they will never know what that is like. Neither of them have to worry about making it on their own and hording an emergency account of money just in case my scholarship money is late or discontinued each semester.
“Okay, I’m all done. Tie?”
I hand the elastic band to Shelby and she secures my French braid, or what I think is a French braid. We grab our stuff and go to our separate classes…Muscular Biology for Aiden, Sculpting for Shelby, and Satan’s Statistics for me.
I walk down the hall and walk into the classroom. Trying hard to remain obscure, I sit in the back closest to the door. It’s the easiest route of escape if we are going to have another shitty pop quiz my already stressed brain can’t handle. If I had known what a dick this professor was, I probably would have saved it for the spring semester instead of doing it now. My rent on my studio apartment was due, and I was a little behind on my utility bill because I keep forgetting to buy stamps. The only disorganized thing I probably do, because I hate having to track down stamp machines, or go to the post office. They won’t let me pay online, which would be freaking cheaper to do if the jerk-holes at the energy company updated their technology infrastructure. It doesn’t help that I refuse to have a computer of my own, just using the 24-hour computer labs on campus. I already cut my cellphone down to just texting because there is no one for me to call that can’t reach me via a simple 144 character text… sue me for being cheap. I sit down and see that annoying TA, Daniel Munson, taking attendance, but no professor yet. Maybe, just maybe, we’d luck out. It is an unspoken rule, if there is no professor twenty minutes after the start of class, all of us responsible students would bolt for the door. We still have twelve minutes left, but who’s counting? Looking down, I pick at a string on my already worn jeans, trying to blend into the lecture hall scenery.
“Edith Willows.” I hate this TA calling my name, mostly because he’s annoying and acts superior just because he’s a math whiz. If you want to see a real math whiz, let me show you my coupon collection.
“Hey, that’s you, girl.” My classmate nudges me and I raise my hand, not looking up.
“Uh, thanks.” I mumble, finally looking up to make sure the TA from hell marks my presence. As he checks me off, I see our new professor walk into the room. I feel my heart skip a beat, leaving me ready to dry heave.
“Wow, hot damn,” the girl next to me whispers, dropping her pencil and book to the floor right next to me, drawing half the classes attention to our corner of the room. Crap, this is not good. It is mortifying to see this man again after several years of keeping him firmly locked away in my fantasies.
Jack Hamilton is teaching this course? Jack-fucking-god-like-Hamilton is teaching my last block of statistics? ! There is no way in hell I am going to get through this
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