I Know I'm Bad (A Teacher-Student Love Story) **UNDER RENOVATION

I Know I'm Bad | The Hunkiest Man Returns

        Crack.

        The loud, disturbing shattering of the glass woke me up from my pleasant dreams. I was still in Mr. Clyde’s tight grip. And I still couldn’t free myself.

        “Had a good sleep?”

        I was shocked when I turned around, seeing him half naked with his chest popping out. What happened? Why was his shirt unbuttoned? And why the hell was he freaking hot?

        I blushed instantly. I really need to stop blushing whenever he’s like five feet away. It’s insane.

        “Why is your shirt unbuttoned? I swear it wasn't last night.”

        He smirked. “You unbuttoned it last night. Can’t remember?”

        My eyes shot open. “What?” He has got to be kidding me.

        He laughed his throat out. “I was … just… kidding.” He said between laugh.

        “Ha ha, not funny,” I mocked.

       I scanned the living room before getting up. Stiffed from my position, I noticed that Sam was nowhere to be seen. With all the strength I could muster, I stood up, breaking free from Mr. Clyde’s embrace. There were pieces of broken glass on the floor and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was from the glass of water Mr. Clyde had asked me to get last night.

                Only now have I realized that he fell asleep with his shirt wet. He’ll probably get sick. Again. Plus the hits he got from my amazing drumming skills last night, he probably has a big bruise somewhere in his head now. My entire fault—

“Ahh!” I hissed.

                I looked down, only to see that there was a tiny glass fragment jabbed into my foot. It was bleeding but not much. I was starting to get queasy. Wincing, I sat on the couch, gripping my ankle. Mr. Clyde moved and groaned, causing me to move and hiss again.

“Oh shit Louise!” Mr. Clyde swore, positioning in a sitting manner, holding my ankle tight.”Can’t you be more careful?”

“What happened to the glass?” He asked, covering my wounded foot with a white gauze pad.

                “I don’t know. Obviously, it fell down.” I stated densely. “And broke.”

Mr. Clyde frowned. “It’s my fault.”

                “Pretending to be nice, huh?” I scowled at him. “It’s not your fault.” I continued, raising the tone of the last word.

“That came out as a question.”

                “Uhm, I hesitated.” I said followed by a soft chuckle. “On the contrary, it is your fault.”

“Hmm, enlighten me.” He furrowed his eyebrows, putting a smug smirk on his lips.

                “You were the one who asked for a glass of water in the first place.” I explained.

The smirk on his lips stretched a little bit more on his rosy cheeks as the furrow of his eyebrows faded. He was now wrapping my foot carefully with a white gauze dressing.

                “And technically, you were the one who brushed the glass aside.”

His eyebrows furrowed again in confusion. “How did you know?”

                This time, he was finishing the wrap with a tiny silver clawed-thing.

                “Your Jeans speak for it.” I pouted; pointing my lips to his jeans which end was wet.