Jain

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I couldn’t run to save my life.

If I thought about it, that statement was pretty terrifying—scenes of a serial killer chasing me with a chainsaw filled my over-analytical mind, imagining trying to run and instead choosing to die at the hands of a madman rather than from my lungs splitting half from exertion.

Having well and truly spooked myself out, I turned to check that I wasn’t being chased. Instead, it was just as terrifying.

An empty corridor.

I was late, again .

I could see my tutor room now, though, but to my horror, the door opened, and my classmates started filing out, pissed that they had to go to classes.

Fuck!

I pushed through them as I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.

“You’re fucked, Doe. Best get yourself to the office, pronto. ”

I scowled to find Harley Owen grinning at me. His dirty blond hair was slicked back to perfection, and piercing blue eyes drifted over me idly.

“Fuck off, Ken. Go find Barbie.”

I wriggled out of his grasp, hearing him roaring with laughter behind me.

“Miss! I’m sorry I’m late—” I gasped, hardly able to breathe as I burst through the door.

My tutor folded her arms, sighing as she looked at me with exasperation.

“Jain, darling, you can’t keep being late. You need to go to the office, I’m sorry. The registration marks go automatically at nine AM. You know this.”

She smiled at me kindly as I groaned out loud.

“Is everything ok at home?” She asked with concern as I rolled my eyes.

Why did teachers automatically ask this question like I was a victim of safeguarding? I was late because I hated getting up for school.

The end.

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired.”

“Maybe go to bed earlier rather than sitting on your phone all night?”

Just like that, the kind face was replaced with a disapproving one, and I was reminded that she was a teacher, completely devoid of understanding what it was like to be eighteen.

I turned and walked away, muttering a ‘ yes, Miss, ’ under my breath before pushing through the crowds towards the office.

“Hey, Jain! English is this way!”

I waved dismissively at Sarah, who held her hands up in confusion.

“Office,” I called back, pointing at the office door .

“Fifteenth late mark this term,” the receptionist cheerfully declared as I stopped still at the door. Surely, she wasn’t talking to me—

“What can I say? I like consistency,” drawled an unfamiliar voice.

I glanced down, noticing he wore the trainers that were sold out everywhere .

“That’s a late mark every day,” sighed the lady behind the desk, as her eyes fell on me. “Ah, Miss Martin. What a surprise, you’re here too. You have a way to go to keep up with Mr. Charter here, but A-star for effort.”

The man before me turned around, his dark eyes narrowing upon seeing me.

Arden Charter.

“Doe,” Arden muttered in acknowledgement as I tried not to make eye contact with the school’s resident bad boy.

“Hi. Can I go? I’ve got English, and I need to—”

“Get to class. Wake up early tomorrow, please, both of you.”

I turned and walked out of the door, unable to help glancing behind me to see Arden lighting a cigarette outside the office before walking back out of the school.

I envied him.

Arden didn’t seem to care about school, whereas I had made a deal with my mum a while ago.

I wouldn’t ruin my life by getting pregnant at a young age, and I would focus on my studies before doing anything stupid.

Her words.

After apologising for ‘ruining her life, ’ to which she laughed heartily- ‘don’t be silly, Jain,’ I decided that I didn’t want to be like her anyway—a single mum struggling to make ends meet.

I liked school, don’t get me wrong. I had loads of friends, and I got invited to all the nights out and parties. I was always amongst those picked first in sports, not because I was good, but because I was popular.

I pushed the door open to my favourite class, which was English. Not because I was good at it, quite the opposite. But because I adored my teacher. I slid into my seat, pleased I’d made it there before Mrs Fern. I couldn’t bear another bollocking for being late.

I dragged my books out, my stomach churning with the thought of discussing Dickens in detail. I had a presentation to give, and it involved reading an extract that I just knew I would trip over verbally.

After ten minutes, the class started to get unsettled, and people began chatting loudly and throwing papers at one another.

I dragged my phone out, seeing a text from Kate, my best friend.

However, before I could read it, the classroom door opened, and my jaw dropped when I saw who walked through. The man looked like he had walked from a photoshoot on how to look like the world’s hottest teacher, and I realised he must be in the wrong class. His hair was dark and tousled, his thick black glasses framing his enormous green eyes. He wore a light blue shirt, rolled up at the arms, and a dark navy waistcoat over cream trousers. He dropped a briefcase on the desk before us as the class began to pay attention, especially the girls.

“Good morning. I’m your new English teacher, in case you haven’t gathered. I’m Mr Silver, and I would like to start with your names.”

Holy fuck.