Chapter 1 || Laugh at My Misery

Unedited.

LAUGH AT MY MISERY

"-liams, pleased to meet everyone..."

The booming voice resonates within the classroom and on the outside of it, echoing within the otherwise empty hallway.

I stand behind the door of said room, hand clutching the handle. Shaking with apprehension.

I was late, and that too, on my first day of school.

Thus, as I turn the handle, I submit a silent prayer to God.

And lo and behold, the sight that greets me as I enter leaves me forgetting the reason for my worry.

Feeling as if my heart has stopped for no more than a moment, I stare at the man who hasn't yet noticed me.

Seated at the teacher's desk, glasses perched atop his nose, curly blond locks falling to shape his face, faintly aging features decrying his beauty (or at least, the beauty I find in him, as I am a lover of older men).

The sinful thoughts that pool into my mind are like acres of honey so bittersweet, but my admiration is interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

Coming to, the man in question puts down his book, taking off his reading glasses before I'm electrified and my thoughts are halted.

Because as soon as he does so, he turns to me, and I witness the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen.

Like the maelstrom of an ocean so tantalisingly strong and vast and beautiful; I'm kept in place, strangely breathless, simply awed by such a sight as he.

Fixing me with a stern stare not soon after, yet it still feels as if I've been blessed. To witness an angel so utterly bewitching, though glaring at me with what seems to be annoyance.

I almost can't help the stuttering that follows my inebriated state.

"G-good morning." Breathless voice, sweaty hands, running mouth.

"Good morning," he quips back, pointing to his watch, "first day and we already have a late-comer, folks. Applause, for this lovely lady."

God, his sensual voice.

But the snickers that follow not soon after his remark bring me out of my trance. Knowing my brown cheeks are colouring red with embarrassment, I clear my throat and blink back at the audience laughing at me. It takes me only a moment to realize that I was now going to be known as the girl who scored lateness on her first day.

Shìt, what an amazing first impression.

"I... uh... the bus... sorry for being late."

I stutter off, almost as if I've forgotten how to speak because his presence seems to suck all the life out of me. What on Earth?

Said man raises his brows, completely oblivious to the effect he has on me. "Please have a seat."

I wince, hating myself for being such a lost cause. As I move to take my seat, I hear the whispers. I feel the judgemental stares.

But the adrenaline rush in my veins gives me a boost of exhilaration. I exhale shakily, moodily, angrily, even. What a horrible first impression. Then again, it wasn't my fault there was a traffic jam.

"Alright now, class, settle down," the man says as the chuckles die down, "now as we had our last student come late..." He drawls, looking at me pointedly. I wince, feeling as if I'd just been stabbed.

"I should think I must re-introduce myself," he continues, turning towards the whiteboard, "I am Mr. Williams. Vincent Williams..."

The way his back muscles bulge underneath his tight shirt as he writes his name on the whiteboard...

I can't help exhaling breathlessly while I marvel at his veiny arms, dusted with a small coating of wild blond hair. How I'd love to have them skim over my tall, skinny frame.

"...And I'm going to be your english literature teacher for the whole of this year."

Mr. Williams turns back to face us, clasping his hands together as a half-smile takes over his features, showcasing his pearly whites. I think I might risk having a heart attack if he continues to surprise me like this with his beauty.

The funny thing is, there are no other girls lusting over him like I was. Probably because to them, he was too old. Maybe too mature. Or too emotionally burdened?

Perhaps it was also because he was simple; yet exquisite in a way I can't pinpoint. But then again, I do realise my taste isn't shared by everyone, and I think it's time I come to terms with that.

"Now, I know that the last teacher was... quite awful with the teaching," he starts, letting his blue eyes skyrocket over each of my classmates. Except for me, much to my disappointment.

"And that because of that, many students scored lowly," his eyes land on me, as if to accuse me of such a feat.

A ghost of a smile lands over my features. Well, he's going to be very surprised when he learns more about me. I'm sure the other teachers have a lot to say.

"She'd also abstained from giving out any homework..." The demonic grin that wafts over his features suddenly tells me that the others are in for quite the revelation, "I would like to start off our lovely session by making it clear that, in my class, you will be receiving homework every single week. Which if not worked, will result in an immediate loss of ten marks on your final results."

The series of groans and "not fair!" that follow his statement are palpable, but I remain silent, observing him still.

When the protest dies down, Mr. Williams continues, "now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's time for my lovely, very hardworking students..." He speaks, drawing a series of laughs, even a few from me, when he lays emphasis on hardworking even though we showed that we were anything but.

"...To introduce themselves."

A moment of silence and apprehension follows, after which he heightens the suspense by extending his vowels, "starting with..."

His electrifying eyes scan over the classroom, and it's only a second before they finally land on me.

I think my heart just skipped a beat.

"With the lovely missus who came late on her first day." He claps his hand together, his electrifying blue eyes holding me captive.

A moment passes with the ringing of my ears.

"Well?" His eyebrows raise.

I stand up on shaky legs, unable to hold his gaze yet unable to look away from him.

What should I talk about? My hobbies? But he likes literature. He thinks I scored lowly in class. And then it seems like something just clicks; like the devil inside of me immediately knows what to say.

"Uh... I'm Namora Murskings, and I've chosen literature because I enjoy it. I got an A in Literature last year, but hopefully I can improve this year and score higher."

I don't miss the spark of interest; the brightening of his ocean eyes when I finished my introduction. Perhaps my inner devil was right after all; I had attacked his weak spot subconsciously.

"Interesting. Appearances can be deceiving," he muses, rubbing his chin as he fixes me with his electrifying stare. Burning curiosity. Surprise. Expectations.

I don't really blame him for his judgement, many people tend to underestimate me.

"Alright, you next." He says, pointing to a random boy.

I don't miss the way his eyes sweep over me again, an unspoken depth in them. Interest, even, but not in the way I wanted him to look at me; more like a fatherly form of, what was it, curiosity?

I inhale shakily, folding my hands as I sit back down. Maybe he isn't interested right now, but soon enough...

"...Alright, now that everyone has been introduced, let's get started on the book, Romeo and Juliet," his reading glasses are perched again over his nose as he flips through the pages with the grace of a lion.

"I hope none of the Romeos and Juliets here will be influenced by the ending of this play, I don't want anyone swallowing poison or stabbing themselves to death."

His remark earns him a few laughs from us, and I hide my smile behind my hand as I open the book to the first page.

"Lucas? You start."

"Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean..."

"Lovely. Thank you, Lucas. Now... what can you say about the prologue? Anyone?"

His eyes scan the room which is otherwise silent, filled with a new thread of suspense. But for the tiniest of moments, tiniest indeed, I notice the way his gaze lingers on me longer than anyone else, and so I can't help the instant raise of my hand.

"Yes, Namora?"

"From the way I see it, Mr. Williams, it tells the audience what's going to happen in the play Though not in detail, but it's able to carry the message. In essence, the passage recounts the fate from which Romeo and Juliet can't escape."

There is a small silence which follows after my judgement as Mr. Williams processes my response. His eyes are narrowed on me, as mine are on him.

"Nerd."

The moment is broken when one of the playboys make a remark which earns him some howls of laughter from his fun-loving friends.

I can't suppress the instant roll of my eyes.

Mr. Williams raises his eyebrows at my reaction, ignoring the remark. Shaking his head, he looks down at the book to my utter dismay.

"Satisfactory judgement, Namora," he says, before clearing his throat. "Belle, please start off with Act One. Daniel, you play the second character."

Seems like he still has something against me for coming late to his class.

"Gregory, on my word we'll not carry coals."

"No, for then we should be colliers."

"I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw."

"Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar..."

"Excellent. Now, does anyone wish to shed some light on what has just been read?"

I raise my hand again, but before I can say anything, someone else speaks.

"This scene shows some of the most important themes. The opening gives telltales of the economy, descriptive power, and excitement."

With seething rage, I turn my face to look at Charlotte- or rather the harlot - who is already staring back at me smugly.

That vixen, for so long, has always been bent on stealing my spotlight.

If I was the teacher's pet- which I tell myself I'm not-then she was the one who always tried to challenge my position, but never succeeded.

Instead, she was able to take something else. My social life. My friends, who were my support. My apprentices, who were my motivation.

Needless to say, I'm now just a lonely, unsupported, unhappy mess. And the only hobby I have left for myself is studying.

Because, what else can a friendless person do?

"Lovely, Charlotte. A very bright and insightful response indeed," Mr. Williams notes, much to my displeasure.

I won't be challenged like this.

"The things the servants said can change how we see things, and it shows that while the Montagues and Capulets are a tragedy, they're also stupid."

It's my turn to look smug as Mr. Williams' eyes zap towards me, and I drown in his silent approval with no other words.

The harlot fumes a few feet away, but as he calls on another student, I've already forgotten all about her, already entranced by his person.

It seems to take an eternity for the bell to ring, but I'm enjoying every moment of it. The way Mr. Williams speaks, carries himself, voices his thoughts; everything is immensely beautiful to me. I wish I can listen to him all day long, because I know I probably won't ever get tired of it.

"Alright, as the bell will be ringing in two minutes..." He begins, moving to the whiteboard, "here is your homework. Take it down and get it done by next week; the earlier, the better."

Skimming my eyes over the question, I let out a sigh of relief when I realize he's given a challenging and interesting essay to tackle. My brain is already devising the answer as I slowly pack my bag, unaware that most of my other classmates have already begun to exit the classroom.

It's only when I've finished sliding my pencil case into my bag that I realize the class is silent, and that a searing, tantalising gaze is trained over me.

I instantly feel hot all over. Letting out a shaky breath when I realize I'm alone; and with him. Shít.

How am I supposed to control myself?

Grabbing my bag with shaky hands, I silently hope he won't speak to me, but secretly yearn to hear his voice one last time before I go.

As I stand up, he clears his throat, and I look up.

My brown skin seems to burn when I realize he's already looking at me, and his blue eyes sparkle with suspense. I hate it so much. I hate the effect he has on me.

Giving him a small, awkward smile, I hide my sweaty hands behind my back. He shouldn't know. He can't know.

"Come here," he says, eyes narrowing in on me. I inhale fearfully, yet I still do as he says.

I'm not in his good books, so the least I can do is make an attempt.

But before I reach the teacher's desk, the strap of my bag gets stuck on the end of the table.

And before I know it, I'm being launched backwards, falling to the floor in a messy heap.

Right in front of him.

Oh. My. God.

Please. Tell. Me.

That.

Did. Not.

Just.

Happen.

My face burns red as I get myself into a sitting position on the floor to maintain the little dignity I have left.

I stare at my shoes, completely and utterly embarrassed, the scene repeating itself in my mind. Fúck this negative bias.

"Oh my God..." I squeal, burying my face in my hands as if to shield myself from his eyes, which I know must be trained on me, the failure of a human being.

I contemplate having the earth swallow me whole as I hear the shuffling of papers and then footsteps. When I move my hands to sneak a peek at what was happening, I see Mr. Williams looking down at me, his face filled with concern and... was that... mirth?

Is he here to laugh at my misery?

Breathless, my brain seems to have completely shut down because of our proximity, but I force myself out of my trance when I see his hand, which lies in wait for me.

Oh...

My cheeks are on fire again as I extend my limbs to take his, completely softened because he actually came to help me back to my feet.

Then I look at his hand again as an afterthought. And my blood runs cold when I see the ring, mockingly draped over his finger.

Well, fúck me.

Not.

please vote & comment to motivate me for faster updates!❤💞 also dont mind the cringy first chapter, its unedited and i'll edit it after the book is completed xxxx❤