Please Me

One: Professor Dickhead

2 Months Later

- Monday -

I look at my schedule, looking between the little numbers written on the thin paper and then the numbers written above the classroom doors that I'm walking past.

"205, 203," I read off the numbers as I walk by until finally, I reach my destination. "Room 201." I look inside the little glass panel on the door, noticing that the room is already full of students.

Shit.

Yeah, shit. I'm in deep shit.

I was already ten minutes late and it was my first day. My first day starting in the middle of the school year, might I add.

Me, my mom and my brother moved to Chicago to go and live with my aunt. We've been here for two months now and I've never hated anything more. One, because I have to listen to my mother sob to my aunt and drink her days away every night because of my dillhole of a father. And two, because I miss New York.

New York was my home, my place. And now I'm living in this dump with my alcoholic mother, my drugie brother, and my aunt who's barley home because of my alcoholic mother and drugie brother. 

Just go in there, Eli. it's not that fucking hard.

Finally gaining the confidence, I open the classroom door, walking through. Imminently, all eyes are on me. I definitely wouldn't consider myself a shy person, but this is also definitely not a situation that I love being in.

"Um," I start off slow, breath shaky. "Hi." A few mummers and giggles erupt from the class, earning for my cheeks to heat up from slight embarrassment.

"And you are?" A deep voice questions me from the front of the room. I turn to the direction of the voice, and once my eyes land on who it is, I let out an accidental, surprised gasp.

Standing in the front of the room by the whiteboard is only what I can assume is a Greek god sent from the heavens. At least 6'5 in stature. He has a muscular build with a waist lean and legs long. His hair is dark brown, eyes a captivating chocolate that seem to pin me to my spot.

Dayum, if you don't eat him, I will.

Ugh, screw me and my deceitful thoughts.

"Oh I'm—I'm Eli...Eli Parks," I finally respond, mentally cursing at myself for the stutter. But can you really blame me. Any man who looks like that would make any person tongue tied.

His eyes take a quick rake over my body, one that makes me even more nervous, before picking up a clipboard from off his desk.

"Elizabeth Parks," he calls out my full name before looking back up at me and I give a quick nod. That's also when I notice the slight English accent with his words. Lord help me...

"It's Eli...just Eli," I quickly respond. He now nods his head once, his jaw clenching.

"I'm Mr. Williams," he says. "Your English teacher."

What the fu—

"But I have a question for you...Elizabeth," my name seems to roll off his tongue with ease. "Why were you ten minutes late to my class?" The last of his words sound angry.

I take a scan around the classroom as I gulp, noticing that still, all eyes are on me.

"Um, I--I--"

"That's what I thought, Ms. Parks," Mr. Williams interrupts and I immediately shut my mouth. The authority of his tone as he speaks in enough to leave anyone speechless. I could probably listen to him talk all day voluntarily. "Detention, my classroom, after school," he enforces while turning back around to the white board, not meeting my eye. "Take a seat, Ms. Parks."