I walked into the front doors of the familiar Fairview High School, making my way to my locker before homeroom started. The first day of school is usually one of the worst days of the year. You’re introduced to new teachers, classes, and seats. Thankfully, this was my last first day of school.
Although I was a good student, I was ready to be done with high school. I was over the people at my high school. My junior year was rough and I didn’t want to be here anymore. I made my way through the halls and various people greeted me, “Hey Sam,” but I just smiled and kept walking. I was somewhat popular, but I really didn’t have any friends. I used to hang out with my ex boyfriend, Zach’s group of friends, but now that we weren’t together, I was really alone.
I made my way to my locker and grabbed my schedule out of my book bag before walking to my homeroom. I glanced over the paper to see where I was supposed to go; 212 King, right across from my locker. I closed my locker and walked into the room. It was pretty full, so the only available seats were in the front. I sat right front and center. There seemed to be no teacher in the room. I looked at my schedule again. I was in the right place. 212 King, so where was the teacher?
The late bell rang and a few students came running in. A few minutes later, the teacher finally arrived and he didn’t really look like a teacher at all. He looked young. He had a medium sized body; muscular, but not buff. He had brown hair that was styled naturally, but not messy. He wore a white, button down shirt and black pants. He looked hot.
He grabbed a paper off his desk and stood in front of the class, in front of me. “Okay everyone. Welcome to your senior homeroom. I am Mr. King and I will be your home room teacher for this year. I also teach Psychology, so I may or may not have some of you as well for class. I am going to go down my roster and when I call your name I want you to just say something about you. I know this might seem a little immature, but I want to get to know you some. So we will start with Sophia Avery.” He looked up and saw her raise her hand.
“I’m Sophia Avery,” she spoke. Sophia slept with my ex, Zach during our whole relationship. She eventually told me about it after we broke up. I never really liked her, but I really didn’t now. She always seemed threatened by me for some reason. “My favorite color is pink.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mr. King said. “Next is Mia Bell.” This went on for a while. It seemed to be very slow, so I doodled in my notebook. I was always drawing. I was into art. Drawing and painting really calmed me and took my mind off of some darker thoughts I would have. “Samantha Reed.” I heard my name, and everything went blank.
I stood up and noticed that all eyes were on me. What did I have to do? Say something about me. Right. “I like to be called Sam and I draw a lot,” I said, trying not to make eye contact with him.
“Are you here later in the day for study hall? I think I remember seeing your name on one of my other rosters,” he asked me. Why was he doing this? He didn’t do this to anyone else.
“Uh, I think,” I said, looking up from my schedule, making eye contact with his bright green eyes.
“Well, nice to meet you, Sam,” he smiled and I sat down. There were a few more people after me so I went back to drawing.
The bell finally rang and I walked into the hallway. I went to my first period which was English. As I left, Mr. King said, “Have a nice day, Sam,” with a smile.
I nodded and quickly left the room. Why was I so nervous around him? Yeah he was hot, but I have dealt with hot guys before.
The beginning of my day went smoothly, for the most part. By the time lunch came around, I was ready to go home. I grabbed a sandwich from the a la carte line before heading down to the art room. I walked in and my art teacher, Mr. Donovan was sitting at his desk, eating a cup of mac and cheese. He smiled when I entered, “Good afternoon, Sam.”
“Hey,” I said, taking a seat at my work bench.
“What are you up to?” he asked me, finishing his meal.
“It’s my lunch period, so I figured I’d come down here and chill.” I said, unwrapping my sandwich.
“What all did you work on during the summer?” he asked me.
“I did a few paintings. Made a couple thousand dollars,” I shrugged.
He chuckled, “A couple thousand?”
“Yeah, people want my stuff,” I smiled back. I sold custom paintings online through my Etsy shop. I did a large range of art from portraits to landscapes to calligraphy work. People kept buying my stuff.
“That’s awesome, Sam. It really is,” he said to me.
“Thanks,” I smiled before digging into my sandwich.
“So how’s your day going?” he asked me.
“Eh,” I shrugged. “I have a study hall with the new teacher later,” I explained.
“Oh what’s his name?” He asked, snapping his fingers.
“Mr. King,” I said to him.
“Yeah, that’s him. I met him briefly at the staff meetings. He’s a nice guy,” He said.
“Yeah, he seems like it,” I said, just to agree.
I continued to eat my sandwich and talk to Mr. Donovan, but soon enough, the lunch period came to an end. I continued on with my day going to Principles of Baking, Creative Writing, and Graphic Design. I was finally at the end of my day and only had one more class to go; study hall. I made my way back to Mr. King’s room and walked in.
He was sitting at his desk and he looked up and smiled when I walked in. “Hello Sam. You can sit anywhere you want,” he said as he gestured to the empty seats.
“Am I the only one in here?” I asked him as I sat in the back.
“Yes, you are. This is technically my planning period, and apparently they couldn’t fit you into any other study halls, so you got stuck with me,” he explained to me.
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, awkwardly.
“How’s your day going?” He asked me.
“It’s good. Do you like it here or are you ready to run?” I asked him, playfully.
He chuckled a little before saying, “I actually really like it here. The students seem pretty good and the rest of the staff is friendly.”
“It’s only the first day. You’ll change your mind,” I scoffed.
He smiled, “Why? What usually goes down at Fairview High?”
“You’ll see.” I said to him.
He nodded with a smile and turned back to his laptop. I pulled out my notebook and continued to draw and doodle little designs for my next painting. Soon after, Mr. King got up and walked to the back of the room to write something on the whiteboard on the rear wall. As he walked past me to return to his desk, he noticed my notebook.
He stopped and bent down slightly for a closer look. “Whoa, you’re pretty good.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said to him.
“Do you do anything other than draw?” He asked me.
“I do paintings. I actually sell them,” I said to him.
“No way. How much have you made so far?”
I thought about it for a second. “Over ten thousand dollars.”
He gave me a shocked look and then smiled, “Are you serious? That’s awesome, Sam. Anything you’re saving up for?”
“Not really, I just save it to have. I use it to buy whatever I need or want and then, just keep it in my savings account,” I said to him. “I actually need to buy new shoes for work,” I said, thinking out loud.
He sat down at the desk beside me and asked, “You work too?”
“Yeah, it just gives me a sense of normalcy and routine. I’m not in any sports anymore. I only have student council at this point.”
“You’re like a whole entrepreneur. How old are you?” He asked me.
“Seventeen,” I said to him.
“That’s really awesome you have accomplished so much.” He chuckled, “When I was seventeen, all I did was workout and eat.”
“I mean, I do that too,” I smiled.
He opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped. His smile faded and said, “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” He gave me a half smile and then returned to his desk. I wondered what he was going to say for a second, but then continued drawing on the page. I looked at my Etsy account and took notes of any orders that were placed.
The end of the day finally came and I packed my stuff up to get ready to go. “Do you go to work after school?” Mr. King asked me as he also packed up.
“Yeah, heading straight there,” I said to him.
“Where do you work?” He asked me.
“Sketchpad Cafe,” I answered him.
“Oh, I’ve never heard of that,” he shrugged.
“It’s a cute little cafe in town. It’s across from the Fairview Library. It’s kind of a hipster coffee shop, but I like it because it’s more of a college hang out than high school and the food is really good. Oh, and you can draw all over everything. Hence the name, Sketchpad Cafe,” I smirked.
“Oh, that’s cool. I’ll have to check it out,” He smiled.
The bell rang and I stood up and headed towards the door. “Have a good night,” I said to Mr. King.
“Thanks, you too. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled at me and I walked out of the room.
After I was out of the classroom, I let out a huge breath of nerves. How did I keep my cool the whole time? Why was I so nice to him? Why was he so nice to me? Why did my chest tighten around him and my stomach get butterflies? Was this a crush forming? Whatever it was, it needed to stop. He was my teacher, nothing more.