How I Became Mrs. Watts ✓

How I Became Mrs. Watts (2)

CHAPTER 2

We hurried down the hall and I glanced at a clock, I was late, again. I sighed. “Sorry, I have a habit of being late to things,” Professor Watts said.

“It's okay, I hope,” I said the last part barely above a whisper. I think he still heard me.

“Blame it on me, it'll be okay, except I really need to be on time,” he muttered, obviously frustrated with himself. I laughed quietly. He gave me a quizzical look. I shook my head. He opened a door to my left and said, “Sorry, Ethan, I kept this one after class.” Ethan? I was so, so dead! I covered my face with my hand.

I took another deep breath and carefully placed one foot in front of the other and eventually made my way inside the class and to a seat. “Nice of you to join us, Ella,” Professor Ethan Bowman said. He smirked when he said my name. Yep, same old Ethan, I thought.

I scrambled to sit down and my stuff nearly flew everywhere. I slid down in my chair. “Ella? Ella Fitzgerald?” Ethan asked suddenly. I supposed I should have been paying attention. He had an evil grin on his face.

“Um, 88?” I said.

The look on his face was priceless. “That's, uh, right, there are 88 countries in Africa,” he said. Phew! I thought. I zoned out for the rest of the class. I knew that I shouldn't do that, and I normally didn't, me being the nerd I was, but it was different with Ethan being my teacher. Who would've thought it? The bell rang and I grabbed my things and hurried out the door. “Ella, stay,” I heard. I groaned and spun around to face him.

“Why?” I asked Ethan.

“Is that any way to talk to your professor?” he asked, feigning innocence. I groaned again.

“Can't you just leave me be?” I asked.

“Nope,” he smiled, but it wasn't a smile that made me comfortable, not like the ones he gave out in high school. I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand. “That's not childish at all,” he said sarcastically.

“You're not childish either,” I said matching his tone. I sighed, “You're going to make me late. Just tell me what it is you wanted, Ethan.” It was a lie, I didn't have a class next, but I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I wasn't the one making you late to my class, and it's Professor Bowman, to you.”

“Ethan!” I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently.

“The book, I want the book,” he said, talking about the book I wrote, High School Romance. I clutched the book tighter to my chest. How he even knew about it was beyond me.

“Why do you even want it? It's not published, it's just in the journal I wrote it in,” I said.

“Is that it, right there?” he asked. It was.

“I'll never give it to you!” I said as I ran out the door. I would never give him my prized possession. I was thinking angry thoughts about Ethan when I ran directly into someone, for the second time today. He was carrying a book and walking while he was reading it. “I'm so sorry!” I said to Professor Watts, for the second time. We both dropped our books.

“Here, let me help,” he said, picking some of my books up.

“Ella!” Ethan screamed. I grabbed the rest of the pile on the floor and ran. I didn't stop running until I was safely in my dorm. I threw my bag and books on the floor and ran and jumped on the small bed. I lied there for a while, before getting up and gathering my books, making sure I didn't leave anything behind. I had five books, same as before, but there was one I didn't recognize as mine. It was Great Expectations, and the pages were all worn and dog-eared.

I could tell it was read a lot, either that or its owner didn't know how to take care of books. I realized one of my books had to be missing if I had this extra one, the one that had to have been the book the professor was reading. I wondered frantically which book he had of mine. I searched through, praying it wouldn't be the one my gut told me. It was. High School Romance was now in possession of Andrew Watts.

I felt like my world stopped spinning. I felt like screaming. So I did, “Argh!”

Someone in the dorm next to mine knocked on the wall and said, “Hey! Quiet! I'm trying to sleep here!”

“Sorry!” I called. “Argh!” I continued more quietly, almost a whisper. If he had my book, I began. Then I shook my head. He had my book; it was just a mystery as to what he would do with it. Would he just keep it safe for me? I hoped. Would he read it? Would he ruin it like he did his? I was counting on option one, the other two were despicable. Oh, what am I going to do?