Damaged Beyond Repair by Kashmira Kamat (KittyKash) (motivational novels txt) 📕

The guy had been precise with the directions so it wasn't difficult for me to figure out the classroom. I slipped into the class which was semi-crowded, most of the people chatting away about pointless things, no one glanced up to see me walk in. That was a good sign. Being the center of attraction wasn't the kind of position I liked being in. I settled in a row where both the seats beside mine were empty; hoping the guy from earlier would want to catch up. Then I realized that I'd been stupid for not bothering to ask him for his name. But, then, neither had he. Oh well, there's always the next time.

A chubby, dark curly-haired girl in the row towards my right, tsk-tsked me, and said, "Hi."

She was cute in the cuddle worthy sense with expressive green eyes.

"Hey." I had never been a social bee, but, I was going to try being friendlier this year. Maybe I'd be successful in finding a female friend after all.

"You look brand new." She narrowed her eyes at me.

"That's because I started today."

"Oh." She pointed at the stack of books on my desk, "Did you bring your Economics textbook, volume three?"

I frantically searched through and failed to find it. I laughed nervously, "Guess, I did not."

I had bought Volume 1-2. The man at the book store told me they'd ran out of stock. What could I have done? Tell him to print me a custom made copy? I think not.

"You're in for a joy ride." Sympathy washed over her. "Strap yourself tight and enjoy."

"Why?"

She leaned in; the scent of strawberry bubblegum filled my nostrils. "Mr. Masters doesn't take shit for no reason. He will torture you slowly, he doesn’t like to teach students in his class who aren’t serious about studying Economics. Let’s just say he gets offended pretty quickly. I’ll add the word arrogant to describe him.” 

"I think I have an excuse. I'm new here." I explained.

"I don’t think that would be good enough for him, I am sure, considering you missed a term. You should have a copy of the notes from the earlier term." A second later she added, "I could have helped you since I'm a desperate escapade, but running away from this class will only mean I'm getting closer to my impending doom."

What did she just say?

She went back to skimming the pages. She was the only one who had bothered to open a book.

The last warning bell had the loitering species file into class sheepishly, looking more like a herd of sheep followed by Mr. Hot-Shot from earlier, who strode briskly towards the center of the room and slammed the binders and paperbacks on the teacher's oak desk.

You heard me, teacher's oak desk, the slamming being too loud had the rest of the loitering herd of sheep file back in.

This guy had to be kidding me, slamming books on the teacher's desk and all.

"Good morning, class." He leaned his butt on the desk, folding his arms across his chest, scanning the room with those mocha eyes I'd found myself falling into.

I was definitely imagining this.

"Alana Hayes."

Just the way I imagined him call out my name in front of god knows how many people.

"Ms. Alana Hayes."

That's when his gaze locked with mine, and he was holding something in his hand.

My Economics Notebook.

I stood up abruptly without missing a beat, all eyes zeroed in on me. My hands were shaking. Goddammit! The first guy I ever thought I could develop a crush on is a teacher?

A professor who taught my class, no less. My head buzzed with the aftershock. I noticed he wasn't smiling warmly at me, the way he was doing just a few minutes ago as if he'd switched on the hulk button, the gorgeous boy-next-door demeanor had vanished into thin air.

"I'm assuming you're having my notebook, Ms. Hayes." He asked me softly in that authoritative voice.

I spread the books frantically all over the desk and found one addressed to Rowan Masters. I grabbed it and made my way through the aisle. We exchanged our books without a word, and then I walked back to my seat, realizing we must have swapped the books during our last interlude.

"Those of you who aren't carrying the textbook, I suggest you walk out right now!"

"Told you so." The girl chimed in.

I stood up once again, overwhelmed with shame, heads turned once again in my direction. Another guy, sitting right at the back with his legs hoisted on top of the desk earlier, climbed to his feet as if his butt had caught some serious fire, and walked out the classroom, without so much a second glance. Leaving me all alone to deal with the demon professor. I noticed everyone else had brought their textbook materials unlike me. Nightmare. I guess I missed the memo.

"Alana," Mr. Masters called out to me, "I'll excuse you this time only because you're a new student."

I blabbered on about why I didn't carry the book with me and that the store was due to get the books by next week. The professor offered me his textbook for the time being.

He was a Demon Professor with a good heart.

The rest of the class dragged on with him lecturing us over chapter seven, which I hadn't the slightest idea what it was about because I was too busy checking him out. I'm telling you, he was so great-looking, too good even for a professor. Definitely in his mid-twenties.

He walked rounds across the area as he taught, occasionally drawing a shitty diagram on the whiteboard with a marker, his delicious mouth opening and closing as he explained. I wondered how it would feel to have his lips on mine or have those delicate masculine hands all over me.

A girl cannot stop having wild delusions now, can she?

I plunged back into the pond of reality when he stared back, his penetrating gaze lingered on me until I was forced to look away. I bet my cheeks were crimson. There was a smile plastered on his face because he knew what effect he had on women in general.