Play the field- Jimin Park

Chapter Twenty Two

"I would like to open the class with having each of you introduce yourself, your name, age and a little about you"

He starts in the front and goes student by student. Three girls in a row give him an over exaggerated view on who they are and what they do in their spare time.

"I need out of here" I whisper to Grace

She giggles softly "This is great, imagine, sex with a teacher. Oh, you naughty girl"

I slap her shoulder and she giggles so loudly that everyone turns to face her.

"Miss lively"

Things are falling to shit quickly, and a part of me feels sorry for him. Although, I'm still a little miffed he didn't tell me he'd be morphing into my teacher in the literal sense since he was already sort of filling that role anyway.

"Yes?" I question

"Something funny?" He asks, arms crossed

"Wasn't me that was laughing"

He nods slowly, a slow smile appearing on his face. "Please be quiet in my classroom, I wouldn't like to have you stay behind"

I shake my head slowly, fuck. I was hoping he asked me to stay back.

I lean my head back on my chair and Grace pinches my leg "I would totally let him fuck me over that table"

I don't even bother replying to her. I let Mr Park take over. I couldn't stop staring at him as he spoke about what we were going to be doing for the rest of the year. I didn't even hear most of the stuff that was coming out of his mouth, I was too busy imagining what it would be like to have that mouth on mine.

The class ends and bodies drain from the room. I wait until the last of the stragglers dissipate before making my way to the front.

"Are you coming?" Grace asks

"I'll catch up. I need to have word with him"

She winks at me and disappears

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" I ask him

He glances up at me from behind his large mahogany desk, looking dangerously sexy as he takes off his glasses. He walks over, wraps his arms around my waist and holds me for a long span of time. 

A ragged breath escapes from me and then the unthinkable happens. I start to tear up. It's as if I'd carried a weight around with me my whole life, a heart of lead and granite. And today, in front of God and Jimin and about fifty of my newest peers, I dropped it. It lay shattered at my feet because I didn't want it anymore.

I do want to believe in love. I want all of its trappings, and if it costs me my sanity and a very good divorce lawyer, so be it.

I pull back and gasp at the mess I've made of him. His shirt has turned to velum, and his skin glows beneath. Two necrotic butterflies stain his once-pristine dress shirt, and I'm mortified at what I've done.

"I'm so sorry," I say, gently tapping the mess with my fingers. God knows I can only make things worse. It seems to be my specialty.

"Come here." His dimple goes off as he buries a smile in his cheek.

Fuck I am in love with him.

Jimins POV

Cheeser.

That's what I had plastered on my face the rest of the day. And that all boils down to my beautiful, sweet Elle. I can't even remember walking around feeling like this with a huge grin on my face when I confessed my love to Mary. That was a relationship filled with death and dying. I lived out each of the seven stages of grief every day, and twice on Sunday. I should write her a thank you note for letting me out of the tower and escaping exorbitant legal fees somewhere down the line. Although, her father is a notorious divorce attorney and would have probably only billed me my half. Looks like I avoided having my ass handed to me twice.