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

I Know I'm Bad | My Boyfriend Flirts With My Best Friend In Front Of Me

        It wasn't everyday you wake up at the smell of luscious pancakes you feel of being tossed now in the air and fresh coffee beans being brewed right on the spot. Today was that day for me. The smell teased my nostrils as I tried to move my limp body from the stiffness it gained in the process of an aloof, peaceful slumber. Had I slept at the couch again? Seems like it.

        I tried to take in my surroundings the moment right after I opened my frantic eyelids which was struggling against my will, closing again every after second it's unshut. Yep, I'd slept on the couch. I sighed before bringing my unruly hand to my head, feeling completely dizzy. There was a violent pounding in my head, throbbing in pain every after second. I was pretty sure I didn't drink anything last night—not even the cranberry juice the Allan or Alvin or Arvin guy gave me. 

        With every ounce of courage I could muster, I stood up, treading wearily out of the family room and into the kitchen where the tempting smell was coming from. The fridge was open, a human torso I figured to be Mr. Clyde's was visible over the ajar door of the fridge. I had learned my lesson. I had to check first if it was really him. Leaning over the door, I checked to see whose torso was at the fridge. Thankfully, I was correct, it really was him. 

     "Geez!" He cried as he shut the door, shocked the time he turned to see me. 

        I let out a sheepish smile. "Good Morning."

     "Don't... ever do that again." He stated, putting his hand on both sides of my waist. "And Good morning to you too."

        My internal organs tickled at the intimate touch, coming out as a small giggle. He knitted his eyebrows. I was sensing he discovered something he shouldn't have. My eyes widened expectantly as he lowered his face to mine, excited like a five-year old kid waiting for her lollipop.

     "Ahh!" I winced, feeling something cool met the back of my head, "Cold." Then I put my hand over it, feeling it a little wet.

        He chuckled, making me realize that he did that on purpose. Before scooting over around me, he gave me a swift peck on the lips and I blushed as an uncanny habit. I turned around and sat at one of the stools at the island, exactly right across from him, and another habit of mine. He was holding a pack of milk, moist-water running down from it, beckoning it was the one he had put at the back of my head. I scowled at him, which he easily retorted with a short, soft laugh.

     There was another pounding in my head, and I winced as a feeble reaction.

  "Are you okay?" Mr. Clyde asked as he placed a plate in front of me, sounding genuinely concerned.

     "I'm fine." I replied, bringing my hand back down.

     "Are you still sleepy?" He paused. "We have some ice in the fridge."

    I completely understood what he meant by that. And I didn't want ice at the back of my neck.        

    “Shut up,”

     "No swearing." He commented, putting a pancake on my plate; then poured chocolate syrup all over it. It looked and smelled delicious. 

       "That's barely even a swear." I complained. "And you do it all the time, that's unfair."

     "That's different. I'm twenty-one, you're seventeen, platonic."

       "I'm not five!" I protested, ignoring his previous statement for better result. 

     "No swearing, done." He emphasized.

     I scowled, causing him to chuckle again. I smiled after a moment, glad that he could still crack a joke on the unusual barrier that has been keeping us from being like any other couples; age difference. I took a bite of the tempting food in front of me. And it tasted a lot better than it looked and smelled.