Chapter 2 - Blake
I drag my hands over my face again, hoping the problem in front of me will solve itself.
When I look back at the two students–the problem–they're still staring at me, waiting for instructions.
"Anthony, please stop worrying about the lights. First off, you need to focus on the college structure. If we do that, we slap a banner on it and it's done. What have you been doing all this time?"
I sense my impatience coming through and hold myself together.
"Just something that resembles the front of the college is fine. We'll put that Santa over there next to it, and it's done. You've got this!"
They nod. Luckily, some of the encouragement got through to them because I'm feeling defeated at the moment.
I didn't want to handle this in the first place. My sister, Carly, made me. She just informed me I'd have to help out with the community college float. Yes, I'm a forty-year-old man still afraid of his big sister. She's got everyone in this town fooled but not me.
The students who volunteered were very eager to get started and do the float themselves, which, in retrospect, stupidly, I thought would be great.
My sister wouldn't get cross with me, and I wouldn't have to spend any time on this Christmas float.
Somehow, they failed to tell me that some of them got sick and others went away for the holidays.
Leaving me with one big problem right on Christmas Eve.
To be fair, I could've at least checked-in over the last couple of days, but I didn't want to deal with it.
I certainly don't want to deal with it now.
Everything's still a fucking mess.
"The float floor is fine, Rebecca! Go help out the others," I yell.
I hate Christmas and everything Christmas-related.
Why do people always make it a big deal?
What's so special about it? Our parents never cared too much for it, but, for some reason, Carly loves it.
I like that it gives me some time off, but other than that?
Everyone's stressed out buying presents people don't need for people they don't care about.
It's like we're in a made-up fairyland that ceases to exist once Boxing Day comes around.
I take a seat, trying to control my thoughts. I grab a water bottle and chug it. I know I'm overreacting. Luckily, no one seems to pick up on how wound up I am. I don't deal well with lack of control.
I look down and tie my shoelaces, feeling better after just a few breaths.
I look up towards the entrance of the gym.
Fuck.
Fuck.
What is she doing here?
I can't deal with it now. Her presence.
Right. She's handing her assignment in right at the last possible second. If she knew what I thought about when she came into my class, she would be handing her assignments with at least one other person present.
Poppy Jones. The only student I’ve ever taught whose name I memorized right in her first class.
She's wearing wool tights with her very cheerful Christmas-themed sweater dress.
I don't like Christmas but Christmas suits her too well.
It does hide some of her curves, which I don't like.
Luckily, I've months of memories to fill in the gaps: her full breasts in a skimpy top in September, her wide hips in a tight dress in October.
Her face is flushed, a reaction to the cold outside, but the messed up part of me wants to be responsible for that flush on that beautiful face of hers.
Her eyes are almost as dark as her short hair.
I snap out of it. She's too young. Forbidden territory I mustn't walk on.
There are so many reasons why this is completely wrong, and yet I always fail to remind myself of one each time I see her. Luckily, a few seconds later, logic kicks in and tells me she's my student and not anything else.
"Hi, Professor Blake," she's right next to me. Too close. I put all my energy into willing my cock not to react to her presence. That would be inappropriate and would make me lose my job, a job that I like.
"Handing in your assignment at the last possible second." She flinches at my tone, which makes me want to take it back. It comes out harsher than I meant to, but it's best this way. It'll surely make her go away.
"Yes." She hands me the papers, and I take them fast so there's not a single chance I touch her. "And Carly said you also needed help with the float. I'm here!"
Carly is really testing me this year. First the float, now bringing Poppy here. My sister won't get a Christmas present.
Not that she ever gets one from me.
It's fine, I can just tell Poppy no.
“Oh, Poppy, you’re here? You need to help us out!” Someone comes running over, grabs her wrist, and pulls her away from me. I hate that he’s touching her, dragging her further with every second but, most of all, I’m thankful.
I've endured all semester resisting this pull, the weird messed up thoughts about having her all to myself.
What are a few more hours?