Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Gerard

"No more groaning. Save time and quieten yourselves, or you'll be at loss. I'm collecting the sheets sharp at nine thirty five— exactly forty minutes from now."

I bet I looked like a fool for the rest forty five minutes of the period— smirking to myself whilst strolling around in the dungeon; wouldn't I make the perfect jailer?

Oh, how jolly it felt— I know I shouldn't be doing this; but it sort of felt like a revenge, and I liked it.

Actually, loved it. You know what I loved more?

Snatching away the papers from the desperate creatures with hopeless expressions on their profiles— perfect Monday for me.

"The ones who score below ten will be staying back for detention."
Provided I don't have to monitor them, please lord!

•••

I cursed myself— repeatedly; why did I have to mention the detention part? Mr. Cuevez, the meathead didn't show up, yet again.

Let's just say, supervising the only seven birdbrains that scored below ten wasn't too bad. They were to mind their own business— the same applied to me; too bad, I did not.

Instead, I took time to observe the dodoheads in the room.

It included Jessica— man, she gives me the creeps now; Isaac– an expected one-digit scorer, I legitimately hate that plaguy fellow; Jonathan– another anticipated bonehead; Leena– the oversexed girl who's supposedly after my sorry arse; Porsche— or was her name Mercedes? Eh, must be Volkswagen.

She even had a new phone that she showed off to her pretty faced, nameless blonde friend— man, Christmas must've been a blast for her.

Then there was the last student who was asleep even before I entered the detention room; I did not bother to check up on that one.

How pathetic. My judgements were put to an end as the bell went off— man, believe me when I say, the disrespectful creatures didn't even wait for my orders before rushing out of the room.

By disrespectful creatures, I meant Isaac and Jonathan. I started packing my belongings; while debating with my mind on whether I should wake up the sleeping beauty in my class or not.

"Hello Mr. Piqué," I heard a familiar, annoying, girly tone that made me gyrate my head to face... Leena.

"You've been a lot distracted lately, are you okay?" She batted her eyelashes, making me cringe inwardly.

"I'm fine, thank you," I replied, with a formal smile— get away from me!

She bit down her plump, pink lips, smirking at me constantly— how does she manage to be such hell of a creep?

"I think you're getting late, Leena. You should be leaving," I stated. Believe me, she has been after me since week one, and I know it wasn't an easy task to get her off my back.

"I don't have a ride back home!" She let out a melodramatic cry, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'm sure you can hire a cab," I stated flatly.

"No cash," she smirked. Heaving a sigh, I shoved my face into my palms— this darn lady.

"What are you thinking?" She asked further. I averted my gaze from her displeasing countenance, only to find Volkswagen gawking at me— at us; myself and Leena.

Our short term eye contact was extremely awkward— why did I, of all the people on earth have to bear all these lassies?

Getting back to the German car company, the look on her face clearly suggested that she was infuriated; what did I even do to her?

"Sir?" Leena's tone distracted me from my stupor, making me glance down at her. "What are you thinking?"

"I'll hire a cab for you," I suggested— although the tone sounded like an order.

"But, what if the chauffeur turns out to be a kidnapper?" Fuck you, literally, fuck you!

"I'll drop you home." I sighed in defeat– Lord, please help my soul. Why am I even doing this? I'm a well reputed teacher, for fuck's sake. Chivalry has it's limits!

As I stood up with my belongings, my eyes fell on Porsche once again. She had been gawking at me still, but on seeing me, she rolled her eyes– one that seemed a full 360 degree.

I honestly have to learn a lot about women.

"Uhm– Mercedes?" The blonde beside her chimed in, making Volkswagen face her, while the headed towards the exit. "I asked you something— stop daydreaming! Who gave you the phone?"

Porsche gave me one last look, and before exiting the scene, she answered loud enough for me to hear.

"My daddy kink."