The Teacher's Obsession

"He's just so hot. I can't concentrate when he talks to me," Lina whispers next to me.

I roll my eyes. I really wish they’d stop talking about my brother. Mason had walked past us a few minutes ago, sternly telling us to be quiet while we waited for our next class. Or as everyone else knows him, Mr. Jackson. No one knows he’s my brother, except a few teachers and my best friend, Hannah—who also happened to have a secret crush on him. She is cured, thankfully. Mason teaches Business English and is in a loving relationship with my other best friend, Esme.

"You think so? He's got nothing on Mr. Adkins. I’d eat him for breakfast," Charlotte chimes in.

Okay. I’d rather hear about my brother than Mr. Adkins. And speak of the devil—here he comes.

Mr. Adkins, the teacher who hates me the most. I honestly have no idea why. Sure, I’m failing his class, and maybe I don’t cower under his death glare, but other than that, I’m clueless. Still, I can’t stand his voice, and I’m sure the feeling is mutual. The permanent scowl on my face whenever he arrives is already set in place.

Our eyes meet the second he glances up from his phone. His brown eyes narrow into that familiar, cold stare, and I sigh. As he strides closer, someone steps in front of me, breaking the connection.

"You're right. Although I wouldn't mind having both of them," Lina whispers. I look up at the ceiling, praying for the ground to swallow me whole. This conversation is the last thing I want to hear. "At the same time?" Charlotte giggles.

Oh god. I take that back. This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever heard.

Hannah nudges me, snapping my attention back just as Mr. Adkins stops in front of me. "Interesting ceiling, Norali?" he asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

My classmates snicker, and I scowl in response. "Just praying I could be somewhere else, that's all," I reply with a sigh.

Hannah elbows me, clearly warning me to watch it, but Mr. Adkins only narrows his eyes at me as he unlocks the classroom door. "Didn’t know you were religious," he says, mocking me.

Why couldn’t he just start class with a simple "Good afternoon"? Or even a "hello"?

"I'm not. But it can't hurt to try," I say, meeting his gaze.

He shakes his head, unlocking the door fully. "Maybe try praying for a better grade instead."

More giggles erupt from the class, and I’m this close to walking out. What a jerk.

Instead, I dodge around him and rush to the safety of the back of the class. Hannah follows and takes the seat next to me. Lina and Charlotte hurry to the front, sitting up straight like they’re ready to ace the class. The irony—those two fail every subject except this one. Meanwhile, it’s the only class I can’t pass.

"While Norali prays for better grades, I hope the rest of you did your homework," Mr. Adkins says as the class sits down. He sits down at his own desk as he opens his laptop and looks us over. He casually avoids my gaze entirely.

"Yes, sir," the class responds in unison. Except for Hannah, who stays silent. She knows how much I hate him. At least she’s on my side, even if she can’t always hide that dreamy look in her eyes when she glances his way. I make gagging noises every time I catch her, and she quickly checks herself.

Mitch sits on the other side of the class, and I feverishly pretend he isn't here. Even though I feel his eyes on me every few minutes, ignoring him seems easier and easier as the weeks fly by.

I half-throw my book onto the desk, grabbing a pen from my bag. As I open it to the homework section, I try to make sense of the scribbled answers. He’s made me hate this subject so much that even doing the homework feels like torture.

I used to have decent grades. I was on track for a bright future. But then third year hit, and with it, Mr. Adkins. Now, math is the bane of my existence. Management, finance, accounting—those I can handle. But this class? It’s a disaster, thanks to him. He refuses to explain things more than once, and now I’m stuck with a failing grade.

"Eyes on the board," Mr. Adkins commands. The whole class turns obediently—especially the girls. Hannah nudges my elbow, and I drag my eyes up from my book.

I catch his brown eyes for one second before I look at the board.

There it is, written in big letters:

EXAM COMING UP

"Fuck," I whisper to Hannah.

The two girls in front of us shush me, and I shoot Hannah a helpless look. She just smirks and pats my hand. "How much to impersonate me and take my exam?" I whisper, making her laugh.

"Millions," she whispers back. "I’m not risking Adkins’ wrath."

A throat clears, and we both look up. Mr. Adkins is tapping the board impatiently. "Stay after class, Norali," he snaps, turning back to his desk.

"Millions might be worth it," I mutter to Hannah, before focusing on my book.

He lectures for an hour, but it’s all gibberish to me. He goes way too fast, but nobody else seems to struggle. Lina and Charlotte are raising their hands every few minutes, along with a few others. I slump deeper into my seat, trying not to feel too hopeless.

Liam, sitting next to me, taps my desk. "Hey, Nora?Come over this weekend," he whispers.

"For what?" I ask. Two dimples appear in his cheeks. "Drinks, food, whatever you li-"

"The answer, Norali?"

My full name. Ugh. He’s the only one who uses it, and I hate it. I am Nora.

I look up to see Mr. Adkins glaring at me. "I don’t know, sir. You’re going too fast," I admit.

"I’ve never had complaints about that," he replies.

The class erupts in laughter, and I fight the urge to blush. He’s smirking—he knows exactly where my mind went with that comment.

"Well, no one complains if it only happens once. It's not worth feedback," I snap, holding his gaze.

His jaw clenches, and his eyes darken. He hates when people talk back. He’s one of those teachers who swears at us and gets away with it. He seems to hate the world, but it seems to love him back in return, despite his foul attitude. The girls fall at his feet, and the guys either want to be his best friend—or something more. Even Mr. Smith, another teacher, has made some suggestive remarks that made me want to cover my ears.

But he's just an asshole.