Abigail mindlessly tapped the rubber end of her pencil against the surface of her notebook. She glanced down quickly, the blue empty lines covered in an abundance of eraser shavings which were mocking her intelligence. Mistakes. Abigail feared all she had made in her life were mistakes. Mr. Graham, though, made her feel like she belonged somewhere. He cared enough to push her in her studies whenever no one else would. It sounded like a cliche, typical, teenage crush but it was so much more than that. He was so much more than that.
“I’ve been paying plenty of attention,” She attempted to convince the young teacher who was standing before her in his intimidating attire with a light shining in from the windows on his young, prominent features across his face. He looked so tired, he deserved a break. They both did. She knew deep down that there was something more in her that he saw than just a dumb student sitting in his classroom and pretending to pay attention. "Just that these questions are hard. It’s not really my forte. Maybe we could try something else? I’m decently good with numbers." Even that didn’t sound true to her, but she forced it out of her throat as fast as she could. He couldn’t drop her, or fail her, right?
"I can do better." She admitted coyly. "What would you suggest? Maybe less caffeine?" She crossed her legs one over the other to appear more sophisticated. In his presence, she felt more of an adult than an adolescent child with impetuous needs. She was his equal.
Graham heaved a restless sigh and took a seat atop his desk, beside where Abigail had been doing her work. His blue eyes watched her explain herself — how her mouth moved, her eyelashes batting against her cheeks so effortlessly. A low chuckle escaped his lips at her last comment. Something else? As unprofessional as it sounded — He needed something else.
Throughout his employment at this establishment he had never, not once, crossed a line he knows he shouldn’t with a student. Professor, student. That was how it always had been. No blurred lines, no late nights, so sweaty dreams —
Getting ahead of himself, he pulled up from his sitting position, his back facing her as he closed the door to the classroom. “What would we try? I only focus on one subject and one subject alone, Miss Hobbs. I can’t give you work for another class. You’re failing in mine.”
Turning on his heel, he avoiding her eyes. Those icy blue hues he had become to know all too well. “If you can do better, I’ll give you an extension and an opportunity to re-do the last test. However, if you don’t begin to show any improvement, I’ll be seeing you back here next year to learn the same things over again.”
Suggestions? Another sigh out in the eery silence that had fallen over the classroom as he placed his hands on his desk and looked into her gaze. “I would suggest that whatever is keeping you distracted, and I know something is — you can’t lie to me, get rid of it. If it’s home-life, I’m here to discuss any issues you’re having so you can get that out of the way and focus on what matters. Learning and getting your life ready for when you no longer have to look at these walls and instead of being told you’re doing something wrong, you’ll be telling someone else what they are doing wrong.”
"So, let’s hear it. What’s gotten you distracted?"
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