"Good morning, class!" Mr. Burnwood smiles brightly at us, and I can't help but gag. This guy is probably the same age as Dumbledore, he smells like moth balls, and he talks too slow. "How are we doing on this fine Monday morning?"
"Hey, Mr. Burnwood?" A gravelly voice sounds from the back of the class. "Your toupée is off!" A bunch of boys snicker from all around me, and I roll my eyes instinctively.
"Shut up, Austin." Mr. Burnwood is weird, but he's nice. They shouldn't make fun of him. He is right though; the hairpiece is lilting a little to the left.
"Right then," Mr. Burnwood clears his throat and straightens his gray cashmere sweater. I also note that he straightens his hair as well, although I'm pretty sure he tried to do it inconspicuously. There are a few sarcastic whistles from behind me. Ugh, I think. Boys.
"We have a new student teacher," he continues, clasping his hands together. "His name is Mr. Peppers, and he'll be assisting me in the mornings." A man walks in and runs a hand through a wave of curly black hair.
You can see his muscles flex from under his white shirt. He's got icy blue eyes hidden behind hipster glasses, and dear Lord he is hot. He can't be older than twenty-three, and I can't believe that he would choose teaching over modeling because he would make millions in that department, I swear.
"Sup, guys," he says. Oh, even his voice is sexy. He has a hint of a British accent. "I'll be in here for a couple of months. I'm trying to earn my degree, so yeah. You guys can call me Peppers or, like, Awesome Amazing Hip Teacher or whatever." With a wink and a nod, he turns to look at Mr. Burnwood.
"Can we call you Salt?" A guy next to me asks, raising his hand.
"Only if you have a dry sense of humor," he replies. I snort, and his attention darts over to me.
"Yes?" He clasps his hands together and leans in to hear my reply.
"Oh, nothing." I shake my head vigorously and look away.
"What's your name?" He asks, pressing forward.
"Isabelle," I whisper. Why is he staring at me so intently?
"Sorry," He raises his eyebrows and bites his lip. "What was that?"
"Isabelle Crane," I look up at him, standing all the way over there in front of the whiteboard.
"Ah..." he nods and stands up straight again. "Have you ever met a headless horseman?"
I blink. "What?"
He chuckles. "Nevermind. Literature joke." He turns with a grin to Mr. Burnwood. "Shall we begin?"
Mr. Burnwood nods in earnest. "All right, class. Open your books to page three-hundred and ninety-four..."
YOU ARE READING
The Only Exception
RomanceIsabelle Crane has a perfect life except she has no love. Jacob Kingsland, on the other hand, has quite an imperfect life. His parents and sibling died in a ship wreck, his friends left to follow dreams, and his love life has wrecked him. He promise...
