I had the insane urge to tell her about my first-hand experience with just how hot that teacher was, how he humped woman in churches, but refrained with a cheeky grin.
Listening to everyone, I nervously waited for him to see me, wondering what he would say. Would he remember me? Would he be surprised if he did? Would he speak to me like he’d done then? Anticipation rolled in my stomach. I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs to find a comfortable spot on my seat.
“Miss Newton?”
Samantha stood, her skirt looking shorter than it did this morning. Cian and I shared a look before she rolled her eyes and imitated a blow job with her fist and her tongue pushing at her cheek. My hand over my mouth, I covered my laugh and turned my attention back to the cheerleading captain.
“Hi, I’m Samantha Newton,” she made her voice all husky and low, clearly flirting with Mr Sinclair. “I’m the head cheerleader and I love long hot showers...”
I risked a look at him. His face impassive, he paid attention to her. I wondered what he was thinking. Did he find Samantha hot? With her long blonde hair hanging open around her waist and her sexy slim figure, she could easily pass for the woman who’d given him a blow job in the church that day.
Jealousy burned a heated path down my spine, and I stopped listening to her speak. Life was so unfair. Sighing, I picked up a pencil and doodled little flowers on my notepad.
As my turn drew closer, I felt pockets of sweat building under my blazer. I had the urge to remove it but didn’t dare move lest I drew attention myself. As if he heard my thoughts, Mr Sinclair chose that precise moment to look my way. Our gazes locked, and I tensed, the breath congealing once more in my chest, waiting for him to show a hint of recognition. Nothing. Just the same casual irrelevance he’d showered on the rest of the class.
Disappointed, I rubbed my brow, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and inadequate beneath that blank stare. The snub hurt more than it should’ve. I felt tears starting to well up, hating that a stranger I met for a few insane minutes would have this effect on me. Why, though? A memory of the ritual flashed through my mind, and I tensed. Having shovedthatrejection to the back of my mind. I felt a distinct twinge in my heart and quickly discarded it, still wondering whythisstranger affected me, like that night did. Saint and Mr Sinclair were two different men, yet they both had an unusual effect on my little heart.
Why?
Maybe because for once in my life, those men had paid me some attention. I answered my question with a mental warning to snap out of it. Mr Sinclair was my new teacher now and whether he remembered me at all, didn’t matter. I just had to show him that I was a diligent student and worthy of my Winthrop spot.
Afterall, dad was counting on me. And Mr Sinclair, probably representing the Winthrop family, was here to make sure that their name wasn’t tarnished in anyway.
Caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him call out my name until Cian seated to my left, hissed at me. I looked at her and blinked my confusion.
“Miss Singh?”
Shit.I shot to my feet, not knowing what to say. When my gaze met his, he slowly rolled the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. Well, that didn’t help, I internally screamed. “H...hi,” I stuttered earning a giggle from Samantha. Scowling at her, I cleared my voice. “I’m Levana Singh and I love history.” I kept my eyes fixed on the chalkboard behind him. “I believe history not only gives us insight into what makes the world tick, but by building knowledge and understanding of historic occurrences we’d probably have a better appreciation of current events.” I sat down just as quickly.
“Interesting concept, Miss Singh. Do you believe history has a way of repeating itself?” he asked.
Okay, so why do I get a question and everyone else got a comment.Biting my lip, I stood up again, this time slower. “Probably.”
As I lowered myself, he asked, “care to elaborate?”
No fair.
Straightening, I glanced around the class. A mixture of expressions met my gaze, some interest, some boredom, and jealousy from Samantha and Vanessa.
I didn’t let them get to me. “Um...I don’t think repeating itself is the best description but more, paralleling events in either identical format, time or season. I wouldn’t be surprised if it affects descendants of historical families in a certain way.” I shrugged, looking up.
He was staring at me in a weird way. Assessing perhaps? For just a moment, his eyes softened but then the severity returned, leaving me wondering if I’d imagined it. God, why was his gaze so intense, like he could see into my soul.
“With everything I’ve read in history books, I sometimes believe the world we live in is mirrored in other universes with opposing situations,” I added, to clarify my earlier statement.
“A case of duality, perhaps?”
Puzzled, I shook my head. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Thank you, Miss Singh, you may be seated.” His smile was slight, flattening all my goosebumps into flushed skin. After he called out three more names, he straightened, then addressed the class. “And that concludes our first lesson together. History is a rich subject and it can either be boring or exciting. It all depends on how you approach it. Tomorrow, you’ll be expected to write an essay.” His comment was met with a few groans. “Do some reading tonight and I’ll try to be fair on the choice of topics I provide tomorrow.”
“What about you, Mr Sinclair,” Samantha called out. At his questioning look, she added, “can you tell us something about you.”
With her back to me, I could almost hear her eyelashes flutter. They sounded like seagull wings on the port when they spotted a freaking dead fish.
Smiling, he slipped his hands into his pants pockets and perched himself on the edge of the table. “I’m British if you haven’t figured out my accent yet. I’m a Professor of Archaeology at the Winthrop College of England.”
So, the man was a professor and I thought he was a prince. Go figure.
