Irritated, I glance up and find that Mr. Johnson has moved back to our side of the room. He looks right at me and our eyes meet. On instinct, without meaning to, I glance right at his crotch. In a split second I’m picturing him naked, with a dick as thick as my wrist and long as my forearm when fully erect, pointed at me.
I jerk my attention back to his face. It’s too late. I’ve been caught. He has this wide-open look of surprise on his face, and he stumbles on his words when he starts to lecture again, as if he’s forgotten what he was saying. He’s quick to recover and goes on to teach the rest of the class while I cuss inwardly for being so damn obvious.
Serena giggles into her hand and whisper-coughs, “Busted.” Her boyfriend quietly laughs along with her.
Leaning back in my chair, I grumble and try to ignore them the rest of the period—which is extremely difficult when I keep hearing them say things like “biggest dick I’ve ever seen on a white dude” and “I bet he makes barn animals jealous.”
Class is over at three. Thank God. I try to get out unseen. As I’m leaving, Mr. Johnson calls my name. I close my eyes and let out a long sigh, then open them again just in time to see Serena and her boyfriend smirk at me as they leave. Bracing myself for the reprimand I fear is coming, I turn on my heel, walking slowly through the dispersing crowd until I’m standing in front of him.
He leans against the whiteboard where the day’s chemical formulas are written in green dry-erase ink in his scribbled teacher handwriting. He’s wearing a white button-down and tan slacks and somehow manages to make it look good—not stiff and boring like my other professors. He’s also younger than the rest of them too. Mid to late thirties would be my guess. With short cropped hair, scruffy stubble, and wide shoulders, he could be Tom Hardy’s twin. He’s tall, too. This guy really lucked out in the genetics department. Sexy and with brains to boot.
After everyone leaves, he folds his arms across his chest. Here it comes, I think, bracing myself for whatever is next. Of course he has every right to lay into me for being distracted during his lecture on the dangerous chemicals we’ll be working with this year. I totally deserve it. Doesn’t make it feel any better, though. I’ve never been in trouble with teachers. They love me. In middle school I was teased relentlessly by other students for being the teacher’s pet. I was never able to really connect with kids my age. The thought of having Mr. Johnson mad at me has my stomach turning inside out. This sucks. Especially since he’s my favorite teacher and science is my best subject.
Instead of barking his disappointments, he surprises me and says, “I know you’re here on a scholarship, so if those wealthy brats sitting in front of you are dicking around, I can either move them or you. Whichever you would prefer.”
Speaking of dicking around . . .
My eyes slip back down to the mound bunched up beneath his slacks. If there’s enough flesh gathered there to make that big of a bulge when he’s soft, I can only imagine the prize awaiting whatever lucky girl falls into his bed when he’s hard. My gaze only lingers a second before I look down at my shoes.
“It’s fine,” I say, kicking at a piece of petrified gum stuck to the floor. “Normally they don’t bother me.”
He lowers his head, trying to get me to look at him. “I don’t think that gum is moving. It’s been there since I started working here five years ago.”
I smile and try to stand still.
“Whatever it is that they’re doing—is it anything I should know about?” he asks.
When he opens his mouth I notice his white teeth overlap just the slightest bit in the front, making his lips look even fuller. “Georgia?”