I take a deep breath outside the classroom door, steeling myself for the encounter. I smooth down my hair and straighten my clothes, trying to look as presentable as possible. Then, with one last breath, I push open the door and step inside.
The classroom is much like it always is, with students sitting at their desks and chatting amongst themselves. Miss Adams is at her desk, typing something on her laptop. As I enter, she looks up and smiles at me.
"Good afternoon, Scarlet," she says, her voice as warm and smooth as ever.
I can't help but freeze for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. Her tone is so nonchalant, as if she's completely oblivious to the events of last night. I try my best to return the smile. "Good afternoon, Miss Adams," I manage to reply, my voice somewhat shaky.
She looks at me for a moment, something flickering in her eyes. Is it amusement? Concern? I can't tell. But she didn't bring up last night, instead continuing with her usual routine.
"Why don't you take your seat, darling? We're about to start."
I nod silently and make my way to my seat, my legs feeling like they're made of jelly. As I sit down, I can still feel her gaze on me, a silent question hanging in the air.
Class starts, and Miss Adams begins teaching as she always does. The other students around me are absorbed in her lecture, but I can barely focus on a word she's saying.
As the class comes to an end, the students start packing up to leave. Miss Adams glances in my direction and calls out, "Scar, do you mind staying for a moment?"
Instantly, my heart rate skyrockets, and my stomach clenches in knots. I nod silently, trying to maintain a poker face.
The other students leave, some casting curious looks in my direction. When the last one has gone, Miss Adams closes the classroom door and turns to me, a small smile on her lips.
"Ah, alone at last," she says, her tone almost teasing.
She walks over to her desk and leans against it, studying me intently. I find myself unable to meet her gaze, instead focusing on a spot just above her head.
"How are you feeling today, darling?" she asks, her voice gentler than before.
I look up at her finally, and I mumble, "confused, violated... angry? I don't know."
Miss Adams's expression softens further, and she sighs softly. "I can understand that," she says softly. "I can imagine you have a lot of conflicting emotions right now."
"Is that what they train you to say as a teacher after you've eaten out a student?"
Her eyes widen slightly, clearly not expecting me to be so forward. She's silent for a moment, then lets out a dry laugh.
"No, not quite," she says, her voice taking on a slightly bitter edge. "They don't exactly have a training course for situations like this."
She pushes away from the desk and takes a few steps toward me, her eyes studying my face closely. "But you do feel violated, don't you?" she asks quietly.
I bite my lip, not wanting to admit that that's exactly how I feel. But the look in her eyes tells me that she already knows the answer.
"Yes," I whisper, the word feeling like a confession.
She nods, a look of understanding in her eyes. "And you have every right to feel that way," she says firmly. "I crossed a line that I should never have crossed, and I apologize." Her voice is serious, and her demeanour is completely different from the dominant one she displayed last night.
"It was completely unprofessional and inappropriate of me to take advantage of you like that," she continues, her tone earnest. "The only excuse I have is that I let my feelings for you get the better of me."
I shake my head. I'm in turmoil right now, I know how bad last night was, and I know that it couldn't happen again, but I was down bad for this teacher, and I almost couldn't let it end.
Miss Adams is silent for a moment, watching me closely. She seems to sense the conflict within me, the battle between my reason and my emotions.
"But a part of you also doesn't want to let this go, does it?" she asks gently, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitate, not sure how to respond. Part of me is screaming to end this before it gets worse, to keep a safe distance between us. But another part of me, a louder and more insistent part, wants to continue being with her, consequences be damned.
"It's okay," she says, taking another step closer to me. "You don't have to answer. I can see it in your eyes. Part of you wants to forget this ever happened, and part of you wants to keep going."
She is standing right in front of me now, her body so close that I can feel the heat radiating off her. Her scent fills my nostrils, making me lightheaded.
"Which part of you is going to win, darling?" she murmurs.