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A blush turns her cheeks bright pink, her lips purse into a pout, and her eyes shimmer. For a moment, I wonder if she’s going to cry, and the sadistic part of me wants nothing more than to see her sadness. I hunger to see her pain, but she squares her shoulders, holding her head high, refusing to cower under my glare as she regards me with indifference.
I smirk at her bravery. The fire in her stare makes every nerve in my body ignite with the need to break her. Just like I planned. If she only knew who she was challenging.
Focusing on the class, I state, “Now that you all know what your homework is, let’s begin.” Clapping my hands together, I flip open the textbook I studied over the past few weeks. Time to focus and stop myself from staring at the little disaster that is my new student.3ArabellaHis blue eyes pierce me like daggers straight to the chest. Time ticks by slowly as Mr. Donati teaches his lesson. His deep, gravelly tone sends warm shivers down my spine. He commands the room, and I watch his plump and perfect lips enunciate each word. I have a feeling one of my favorite subjects, history, will now be my most torturous. Not because I don’t think I can pass his class, but because the man is distracting.
I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, and he was a boy. Mr. Donati is a man. One far too old and out of my reach for me to even consider. But that doesn’t stop my mind from daydreaming about how his lips would feel against mine.
If I were back home, I wouldn’t think twice about teasing him to the point of no return. But I promised my aunt I’d be good, I’d behave, because she’s giving me a second chance. I’m not in jail or some shit, and that’s something I am thankful for.
By the time I’d turned sixteen, I was partying with friends, drinking, and even smoking the odd joint. I’m far from a good girl, and that’s why my parents wanted to send me away. My mother agreed to this move because she knew I was on a path of self-destruction.
“Hi,” a whisper comes from beside me. “I’m Marleigh,” the girl with long, brown hair says while holding out her hand, and I’m thankful for the distraction from staring at our teacher.
“I’m Arabella,” I tell her. “New here.”
“I know.” She nods, a smile lighting up her face. “I figured. I haven’t seen you around before. Welcome to Black Mountain, the Academy with more hot guys than a reality TV show.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, then it seems I’m in the right place.”
“Definitely. Listen, if you need anything, like a BFF or something similar, my applications are currently wide open.” Her laugh is soft, but it’s infectious as she grins at me playfully.
“Let me know where to sign up.” I offer her a smile. She’s the first person I’ve met so far who’s not been stuck up their own ass, and I hope that all the girls are like this. In my last school, the female population didn’t like me. I find it easier being one of the guys than on the cheer squad. But with a fresh start, I hope I’m able to find my own tribe of women.
A crash against the wooden surface of Mr. Donati’s desk has me jumping in my seat before his voice follows. “Listen up, students, when you’re in my class,” Mr. Donati says with his seething gaze locked on me, slamming me right to the back of the chair. “I want your focus on me. On the blackboard. Not on your phone. Not on your friends. Am I understood?” He poses the question to the class, but he doesn’t look away.
“Yes, sir,” I find myself responding as if he were shouting. I don’t even have my phone. Auntie Midge said to leave it at home so I can focus on my first day. Thankfully, I listened to her.
“Now, when you think about history, I know most of you consider it old bullshit you don’t want to know about,” he informs us, earning a few gasps and sniggers from the students. I’m shocked as well. I’ve never had a teacher who was so open about cursing in his class. “For those who are new to my class, I run a tight ship, and I expect you to put the work in, but I do want you to learn when you’re in this room.”
One of the girls a few desks over raises her hand. And for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore her, but instead, he nods toward her.
“I’d like to know if you’re single, Mr. Donati,” she muses, a grin plastered on her face. Her long, blonde hair is pinned in a ponytail, and her perfectly manicured hands are folded on the desk as if she didn’t just flirt with our teacher.
