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There were some yesses mixed with uncomfortable grumbles throughout the room. Clearly not everyone completed the course pre-work. Thankfully, I’m not one of them.
Gavin claps his hands together. “In literary works, cruelty often functions as a crucial motivation or a major social or political factor. For your first essay, we’re looking at a play from your required reading list in which acts of cruelty are important to the theme. You are expected to analyze how cruelty functions in the work as a whole and what the cruelty reveals about the perpetrator and/or victim.”
He looks throughout the room before flipping the projector on. On the white board is the name of the piece we will be analyzing: Othello.
A collective groan moves across the classroom. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter that escapes when I realize that the man I’m fucking is making me write an essay.
Gavin lifts an eyebrow. “Care to share what you find so amusing, Miss Kennedy?”
Besides the absurdity of our situation? I clear my throat. “Nope. I have absolutely no comment.”
His eyes lift to the other students. “I’m going to use this assignment to gauge where everyone is at; therefore, it won’t be graded. Normally, I’d be happy to help you with your work but this is the exception to that. If you’re writing it by hand, it should be at least three pages on single-sided lined paper. If you choose to type your paper, then it should be at least one-and-a-half pages in length using twelve-point Times New Roman font. Your essay is due on Monday. Any questions?”
A blonde named Sarah raises her hand.
Gavin nods in her direction. “Yes, Miss White?”
She chomps her gum and twirls a piece of hair around her finger. “Which do you prefer, Mr. Cooper? Hand-written or typed?”
“It’s your choice, Miss White. I know not all students have access to a computer or printer at home so I don’t require work to be typed.”
“But which do you prefer?” she insists.
He scowls. “Miss White, I don’t care to repeat myself. Is that understood?”
Sarah pouts as several others giggle. “Yes, Mr. Cooper.”
His jaw ticks. “Good. Any others?” After his question is met with silence he adds, “Remember, do not merely summarize the plot. You need to analyze the theme we’ve discussed. You’re welcome to use your resources around the classroom but not your fellow students. Bring your copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare tomorrow. If you need something to use today, there are printed copies of Othello sitting on the table in the back. I expect them to be returned before you leave this room. Now get to work.”
Wow, he’s kind of a hardass. And it’s really sexy. I grab my notebook out of my bag and pick up a pen. Most of the other students are milling around the back of the room waiting to snag a copy of the play. I don’t have my book with me, but I’m quite familiar with the piece because I read it five times over the summer.
I get to work outlining my thoughts. I’ve found that outlining first always helps me produce
better essays. Gavin—er, Mr. Cooper—leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s wearing charcoal slacks and a bright blue button-up shirt today that makes his eyes glitter even more than normal. I bite my pen as I watch him run his hand over his scruffy jaw. I blush when I remember how that scruff feels against my inner thigh.
As if sensing my salacious thoughts, he grins as he walks over to my desk. I have to consciously focus on my work to avoid staring at his crotch as he comes closer.
He places a hand next to my paper. “You don’t need a copy of the play, Miss Kennedy?”
I try not to be obvious as I breathe in his cologne. “No, Mr. Cooper. I’m familiar with it.”
He glances at my notes about Iago’s manipulative ways and how he fuels each character’s cruelty throughout the story. He taps my paper. “I see that. Nice work. I’m looking forward to seeing the finished product. Maybe I’ll get a little more insight into what makes you tick.”
No one has ever been curious about my mind before. I know he’s a teacher so he’s supposed to be invested in my schoolwork, but this feels different. This isn’t the first time he’s expressed interest in getting to know me. I know things have changed now that I’m his student, but his tone suggests otherwise. What a mind fuck.
I continue making notes as I try to ignore my hot teacher through the end of class. As I’m packing my bag, Dylan comes up to me and pulls me out of my chair.
“C’mon, Kat. I’ll walk you to the library.” He leans in to whisper, “And maybe we can make a pit stop along the way.”
I pull away from him to see Gavin glaring at Dylan.
“Miss Kennedy, I need you to stay behind a moment, please.”
“Again?” Dylan challenges.
Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you have an issue, Mr. Taylor?”
Dylan rolls his eyes. “Of course not, Teach. You can talk to my girl all you want.”
