Bruises and scars. (Teacher/student love story)

13 Bruises and scars.

WEDNESDAY

October The 20th.

I'm going to the doctor right after school today for my birth control shot. That's the reason why for once I drove myself to school. And the reason why I was one of the first ones in the parking lot.

I hop out of my car and grab my bag from the passenger seat. I pull back out of the car and shut the door turning.

Mr. Blake is a few parking spots away and he gives me a small smile when I see him. I sigh and sling my bag over my shoulder before looking the door.

Me and Mr. Blake are on better terms than before but still not the best. If we talk to each other it's short conversations but it's not angry. He's always acting so soft when I'm around. That's the only way I can think of to describe it. It's not nice, it's to sensitive to be nice. It's just soft.

And me? I act neutral. I'm not going to give into him just because he's being all sweet.. which is weird to say about your teacher. But in my defense it's true.

"Scarlete can you give me a hand?" He puts his hand on the top of the roof watching me.

I purse my lips.

He pouts, "Please?"

I almost laugh at his pout but then roll my eyes instead, "Sure."

I walk over and he grins, "Thank you so much. I owe you."

This does make me smile, "I think I already know how you can repay me."

I stop next to his car and he waves at me ushering me closer. I take another step towards him but still not wanting to get to close. He rolls his eyes and grabs my wrist tugging me closer, "I won't bite you. And how can I repay you?" The last bit is a whisper and his breathe hits my lips.

"You won't bite, but you might hurt me. And you could repay me by leaving mine and Alex's relationship alone."

He runs his fingers over my cheek bone, "I would never hurt you and you know I can't do that Scar."

I sigh, "Don't call me that."

He hasn't tried to touch me since that day he found me and Alex. And now as his fingers run over my skin I can't help but think about how much I have missed the small contact.

I shake that thought away. This is my teacher. You have a boyfriend that you're in love with. There's so many reasons why this is so wrong.

I'm about to pull away when his eyes flick up and stare into mine. I swallow roughly, "So what did you need help with?"

He seems to take a moment to function what I asked and then he pulls away abruptly. My cheek still tingles where his rough hands touched. I shiver and I hope he didn't notice. He leans into his car.

"I have a whole bunch of papers that I was correcting and I need help carrying them in." He pulls back out with a box and hands it to me. "And I didn't get to all of them so I was wondering if maybe you could help me finish before class today."

He has now pulled out another box and slings a bag over his shoulder.

"How many papers are in here?" I ask as I feel that the box weighs a decent amount.

He shrugs, "I dunno. In that box is classwork and in this one is lab essays."

"If I was a teacher I would never give my class work. How long does it take to correct all this?"

He closes the car door with his foot and we start to walk towards the school, "Less time then you would think."

He opens the door for me juggling his box into one hand.