"This is my apartment," Mr. Heywood said, opening the white oak door to apartment two hundred and fifteen. "Sorry, it's kind of messy... I'm missing a lady's hand, you know?"
Raising an eyebrow at him, I stepped into the apartment. It was too dark to see anything so I stood idly by the door, feeling Mr. Heywood brush past me. Seconds later light flooded the room. I surveyed the room while slipping off my shoes. It seemed like Mr. Heywood liked to color code. A love seat, a recliner, and a couch that surrounded a large plasma television were all made out of the same crimson leather that matched the color of the paint on the walls. White pillows were set up on the furniture, matching the trimming of the room. There was a deep brown coffee table in the middle of the furniture, and on it was a small bowl of candy, filled with M&Ms. A large shelf of DVDs was set up next to the television.
There were a few magazines and newspapers scattered around on the ground, a few dishes were on the coffee table, and a few jackets were tossed on the backs of the furniture, but other than that it looked rather clean to me. Especially for a single man living alone.
"It's actually a nice place," I finally commented, going over to the leather sofa and pushing my hand into it. "And clean."
Mr. Heywood chuckled, picking up some of the dishes off the coffee table. "Thanks. Are you hungry?"
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. I looked down in embarrassment while Mr. Heywood snickered.
"I'll take that as a yes. I'll order some pizza. Take a seat and make yourself at home. Is pepperoni alright?"
"Yep."
Mr. Heywood disappeared into the kitchen and I walked up to the T.V, picking up a photo off the stand, and looking at it. A younger Mr. Heywood was standing with two people I assumed to be his parents. He had a carefree grin on, his messy hair falling in his face. His jaw had the same low, square structure as it did in the present. Smiling, I set the picture down and wandered out of the living room, going into the hallway attached.
The first door was open, revealing a very clean and white bathroom. For moment I was tempted to see what kind of shampoo Mr. Heywood used but I forced myself away. What was I, a stalker? The next door was the laundry room— which showed Mr. Heywood's true nature. Piles of laundry that nearly reached the ceiling resided there. I quickly shut the door and moved on. The last room was Mr. Heywood's bedroom.
Pausing by the door I stuck my head in and looked around. It was a pretty average room. The walls were brown, and the floor was made out oak wood. Another large flat screen T.V was on the wall, and there was a big, brown, leather couch across from it. A large king sized bed was placed against the far corner of the room. To my surprise, it was made. The comforter was the same color as the walls, and the pillow sheets lighter shades of brown and white. Mr. Heywood was very coordinated.
Just as I sat down on the leather couch in the living room, Mr. Heywood came out of the kitchen, holding the phone. He put it back on the receiver by the door and took a seat on the couch next to me, turning on the T.V. "Do you want to watch anything in particular?" he inquired, giving me a sidelong glance.
I shook my head, keeping my hands clasped tightly on my lap. Mr. Heywood flipped the channel to a soccer game, turning up the volume. My palms grew sweaty and I quickly wiped them on my pants. What was there to be so nervous about? Oh yeah. I was alone with my teacher, in his apartment, on his couch, with these feelings I was trying to force away before they came something. This situation wasn't helping at all— but it wasn't like I had any other choice. No one liked sleeping outside in the cold. And no one in his or her right mind would choose that over going to spend the night at someone like Mr. Heywood's house.
"And that's why you don't give the ball to Bashista," Mr. Heywood suddenly muttered as the crowd on T.V boo.
A small laugh escaped my lips and I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. Mr. Heywood turned and raised an eyebrow. "What?
"Nothing... I just never would have guessed you were so... normal, you know?" I told him with a shrug. "It's weird."
"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
Boy did he look cute when he was confused— I violently shook my head, feeling my face heat up. I couldn't be having those thoughts!
Mr. Heywood tilted his head to the side. "Well?"
I snapped out of my thoughts, shrugging at him. "I don't even know. I just thought you'd like, come home and read about science or something. Or start beating up a punching bag. Or your house would be a mess. Stuff like that."
Mr. Heywood laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I am a normal person as well."
"I'm not disappointed," I responded without thinking.
Mr. Heywood stared at me for a moment before shrugging and turning back to the television. I blushed again and focused on the soccer game on the T.V. After about twenty minutes, the doorbell rang. Mr. Heywood stood up and went to answer it, opening the door to reveal the pizza guy. A few moments later, Mr. Heywood closed the door, pizza in hand. "Do you need a plate?" he asked, coming back over to the couch.
I shook my head. "Nope, I'm good."
"Good, now I won't have to wash as many dishes," he responded, setting the pizza box down between us.
He opened it and took a piece out. I copied him, picking up the warm piece of pizza and bringing it to my lips. The cheese slid off, burning my fingers and mouth, so I quickly let go. It landed on my pants, now burning my leg through my pants. "Ow, ow, ow," I muttered, picking the pizza up and tossing it back into the box.
"Good job," Mr. Heywood commented, smirking.
I pursed my lips at him before turning to the mess on my pants. "Napkin?"
"Here," he said, reaching to his side and tossing me a few napkins.
I wiped off the pizza sauce and cheese the best I could, but there was still a large stain left on my pants. Sighing, I put the dirty napkins on the top part of the pizza box, letting the next piece I took cool off before eating it.
By the time the game was over, the pizza was gone and I was half asleep on the couch. Mr. Heywood stood up, picking up the pizza box as he did so. I stood up as well, and followed him to the kitchen drowsily. The clock on the kitchen wall read one in the morning. A yawn escaped my lips, and I rubbed my eyes tiredly.
"Follow me," Mr. Heywood ordered.
I did as he asked and followed him back to his bedroom. He dug around in his dresser for a few moments before tossing me a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. I looked at them and looked back up at Mr. Heywood, confused.
"Wear those to sleep in. I don't want you wearing your dirty pants in my bed."
I stared at him, my eyes widening. What did he mean in his bed? Was he expecting me to sleep with him? He must have seen my bewildered expression because he chuckled, a smirk gracing his lips again. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take advantage of you. I'll be sleeping on the couch." He pointed to the brown leather couch.
"I'll sleep on the couch," I said quickly. "It's fine."
"No," he responded sternly. "You're the guest, so that means you get the bed. And you're a girl. Now go to the bathroom and change. However, if you want to change in front of me, I'm not stopping you."
I blushed and shook my head violently, heading towards the bathroom. After shutting the door and locking it, I stripped and pulled on the pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Both articles of clothing were way too big for me, so I had to tie the pajama bottoms' string tightly. The bottom of the t-shirt reached mid-thigh. I used the toilet and washed my face before going back to the bedroom. Mr. Heywood was in the middle of taking off his shirt. He looked over at me with an amused expression.
"Sorry!" I apologized, looking away immediately as my cheeks warmed.
"It's fine," Mr. Heywood responded. "I sleep without a shirt on."
I looked back over at him; he was now completely shirtless. He went searching in his dresser again and I took the opportunity to check out his naked chest. He had well defined abs. Not surprising, since he was an ex-gangster. He really had a nice body. I shook my head, mentally slapping myself. I couldn't check out my teacher! It was wrong!
Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow. "Are you checking me out?"
"No!"
He chuckled. "Whatever you say."
A yawn escaped my lips when I opened them to defend myself. Mr. Heywood smirked again, nodding towards the bed. "Get in," he ordered.
Immediately I hurried over to the bed, pausing next to it awkwardly for a second before climbing into it. The sheets were cold as I quickly pulled them over my body. Mr. Heywood went over to the light switch and turned it off, darkness flooding the room. His silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight as he returned to the coach. He let out a quiet sigh, flopping onto his back on it. "Night, Holly."
"Night," I responded quietly. My heart was beating excitedly at the thought of being in Mr. Heywood's bed. I took a deep breath and a pleasant scent filled my nose— Mr. Heywood's scent. A quiet sigh escaped my lips. This was wrong, but I couldn't help myself from feeling happy.
My stormy thoughts kept me awake for a while. The sound of Mr. Heywood's even breathing also kept me distracted. Sleep crept up on me like a ninja, and before I knew it, I was off in dreamland.
Something hot was covering my back. My eyes opened groggily, seeing only the blackness of the room. I attempted to roll over, but whatever was covering my back wasn't going anywhere. That's when I noticed the arm under me. My eyes widened in surprise as I next took in the arm over me. Then I noticed who the arms were attached too. My head turned slowly to see Mr. Heywood's chiseled, sleeping face right next to mine. I swallowed nervously, trying to move myself out of his grasp without waking him. His naked chest was moving up and down slowly as he breathed. I resisted the urge to touch him.
When did he climb into the bed? Why did he? I struggled to slide out of his arms, but they suddenly tightened up. A small groan of frustration left my lips. This wasn't good. His arms were revealing my true thoughts. I really didn't want to move away from his arms. What I wanted to do was snuggle closer to him and go back to sleep. But there was no way I could do that.
Whatever happened to my commitment of stopping my feelings before they became too much? It didn't seem like I was doing a very good job. My stomach was tingling from my awareness of his body so close to mine. Shaking my head, I held in a sigh. What was wrong with me? How could I have feeling for this devil of a teacher? I glanced back at his peaceful face and caught my breath. He was really handsome...
Suddenly something entered my field of vision. I froze, my breath catching once again. But not because of Mr. Heywood. A rather large, brown spider was crawling on the pillow. In my direction. Immediately I screamed, shoving back violently, knocking Mr. Heywood off the bed and going with him. I struggled frantically, trying to escape the tangle of sheets we were caught in.
"What's wrong?" Mr. Heywood demanded, sitting up, his hands made into fists.
"Spider!" I gasped, crawling over his chest, and finally leaving the tangled mess of the sheets.
He blinked at me for a second before chuckling. Pushing himself to his feet, he peered over the bed. "Where?"
"Pillow!"
I watched as reached over to the pillow, scooping up the creepy crawler. He came over to me, smirking, and held it out toward my face. "Stop!" I cried, scrambling back away from him.
"It's harmless," he told me, letting it crawl around his hand. "See?"
"Bring it outside," I begged, giving him the puppy-dog look.
He looked at me with an amused expression. "Don't you want me to kill it?"
"Why? It didn't do anything."
Mr. Heywood stared at me for a moment, his face twisted into an unrecognizable expression. "That's different," he finally commented quietly. "Alright, I'll bring it outside."
He disappeared out the door and I took the time to recollect myself. I picked up the blanket and sheets I had knocked to the floor and tossed them back on the bed. Then I went to the bathroom and quickly washed my face. When I was done I wandered out to the living room just as Mr. Heywood was coming back in. He let out a yawn, the muscles in his arm rippling as he stretched. My eyes ran over his toned stomach involuntarily and I blushed, looking away quickly.
"Boy it was hot last night," he commented, rubbing his stomach.
"I wonder why," I responded sharply, glaring at him accusingly.
He held up his hands in defense. "I got cold, okay? I didn't think it'd matter if I just slept on the other side of the bed... If it makes you feel better, I was hoping I'd wake up earlier than you so you wouldn't notice."
I rolled my eyes. "How would that make me feel better?"
He shrugged.
"Mr. Heywood—"
"Chris," he corrected me.
"You can't sleep in the same bed as me! You're a teacher and I'm a student. It's wrong."
"We aren't at school," he responded with a frown. "And I know it's wrong. That's why I didn't try anything with you."
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open.
"Joking," he added quickly, but a smirk came onto his face. "But you look extremely cute while you sleep."
My face burned and I quickly adverted my gaze. He was unbelievable. He wasn't helping my situation at all! I knew he didn't know what my situation was, but I was falling deeper and deeper into a hole that would be very difficult to climb out of. Calling me cute was just digging it deeper. But I couldn't deny it anymore. They were my feelings, and I had to deal with them.
I was falling for my biology teacher.
____________________________________
2018 Jordan is cringing.