Prestige

| 13 |

I woke up with a stinging pain ecstatically flowing through my head, but that tiny detail was long forgotten when I realised how comfortably my body had sunken into a pale ocean of white duvets. I sat up straight, rubbing my eyes as a way of waking myself up even more. I looked around the room and noticed the amount of space that was neatly reserved.

There were several plants inside the room, all bringing out the colour and life into the room. The elegant splashes of grey, cream, white and dark brown made the room look a lot more posh and luxurious than it would've been. The furniture was evenly spread around the room; it was not overdecorated, I liked it. I looked around the bed and found on the bed-side table a picture of a young brunette with a small boy, a toddler. Instantly, I mentally prayed that whoever's house I slept in was not married with a child; I did not want to ruin a marriage and break apart a family.

Slightly relieved that whomever's house I stayed at had great taste in a decent lifestyle, and hopefully a better one in woman - so that he could avoid me, I pushed the blanket off of me and saw myself naked under a white shirt that most likely belonged to the owner. I groaned as I looked up and saw my dress resting on the couch that sat on the far end of the room. Lifting the hem of the light clothing, I sighed as I saw myself still wearing last night's lace thongs. I rubbed my hand against my thighs as I sighed in relief, only to growl at the pain felt as the movement of my hands caused me pain. I stopped rubbing and tried to ignore the pain, after deciding that my legs were the least of my problems.

I climbed out of bed and followed the scent of beautifully cooked food. I stood in the doorway, scared and nervous of leaving the bed room in the stranger's shirt, but the growling of my stomach encouraged me to cook up some courage and walk towards the source of the smell. Placing one feet in front of the other, I started to wonder around the house, still focusing on getting something to eat. But as I moved, I noticed how luxuriously simple the house seemed, it was like whoever lived in here had great taste.

"You're up." A melodious, yet deep, voice announced as I entered the kitchen, pulling all my attention to the owner of it. Christopher, my teacher. I am my teacher's one night stand? My brain started to become chaotic as I tried to stay calm.

I stared at his face blankly, unsure of how to respond. "Hungry?" He asked as he pulled out two breakfast plates from a cabinet, before placing them on the counter.

"What happened last night?" I asked as I sat on a high stool by the counter in the kitchen, since he asked me to sit, using body language.

I watched as he stirred the baked beans in the pot until he finally replied, "You got drunk, well you were drugged. But I got involved before anything could happen." I tried my best not to judge his short and slightly vague response. But I reminded myself that we were not in school so how I treated him now would have no meaning, especially since I literally woke up in his bed this morning. Even then, I felt uncomfortable to be impolite and demanding around him, and considering our situation, it did not make anything easier for me.

"That doesn't explain anything." I calmly said, still waiting for him to say more.

He started to divide the breakfast in half and placed them on our plates, "A guy poured some sort of drug into your drink and offered it to you. And very naively, you accepted it without question and had a few small sips from it. The drug worked fast while he basically kissed you and tried to violate you. But I got in the way before anything more could happen to you." He explained, avoiding making eye contact with me as he prepared our meal. My mind started to cry as I worryingly stared at my exposed skin, lifting his shirt to identify the faint scratch marks on my thighs.

"And then what happened?" I asked, completely clueless of what happened, but with a worried tone.

"I had to punch him to get him off of you. Once you were safe from him, I lead you out of the club and you fainted in my arms when we had gotten into the cab." He explained more, while pouring orange juice into a pair of short glasses.

"Did anything happen... you know...?" I awkwardly asked him, gesturing between us.

He shook his head, "I would never do that to a student of mine."

And for some reason, that made me sad. "Never?" I questioned.

"I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't don't want me to." He awkwardly rephrased in a more muffled manner, but I could still hear him loud and clearly. I stared at him as he served the meal to us, "Eat up. You have to get home and finish a whole load of work."

"Work?" I questioned, making it sound like I didn't want to leave, which was the case. I mean I had one bite of his cooking and fell in love with him... well his cooking.

"You don't want to go?" He read my mind.

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't have any plans for this weekend." He looked at me like he was about to say something but didn't since I started to talk, "Did you change my clothes?"

Eating more than half of my breakfast, I watched as he rubbed the back of his neck before answering, "I did. Your dress didn't seem like the kind that would be comfortable to sleep in, considering you were already taking your clothes off before climbing into my bed."

I bit my lip, if what he was saying was true, then it means that he saw my boobs. I looked up at him, with a worried expression, "Did you see my... boobs?" I whispered the last words.

"Mhmm." He hummed in a slightly shy manner as he avoided my eye contact. I held my eyes shut, feeling bad and guilty for having to put him through that. He spoke more, "It's the reason I put you in my shirt, well made you wear it. I didn't want to be tempted or have you wake up sober and regretting every part of last night."

I stared at him, unsure of how to respond or how to ask him of what he meant by every part. Was there a part he didn't tell me about?