Professor's Kiss_A Second Chance, Bully Romance.

by Sienna Blake

  I’d never have to worry about being caught “fraternizing” with Danny.

  It’d never happen.

  Not in a million years.

  16

  ____________

  Ailis

  Then – Limerick, Ireland

  Since that first day back at school where Danny pushed me over, he never let up. He taunted me, pulling my hair or pinching the backs of my arms when he passed me in the halls. He sneered when he caught me looking at him.

  Because I still kept looking at him, watching him, getting glimpses of hope whenever he did something familiar—shaking his hair off his forehead or chewing his bottom lip when he was thinking.

  Confusion swirled around me like I was stuck in a whirlpool. I spent many an endless night wondering, what did I do?

  Why did he hate me so much?

  Danny’s popularity and his open hostility made it hard for me to make friends to begin with. For the first few weeks I hid in the bathroom stall during recess and ate my lunch in the music practice room, strumming one of the school’s guitars, practising chords and transitions in between bites.

  Since Danny had taught me the basics, I’d begged my parents for a real guitar. After being discharged from hospital I’d spent hours in my room practising chords with a fake fret I’d made out of cardboard and string. Until they finally gave in and bought me a cheap secondhand guitar. A “well done for not dying” present.

  Today when I slipped quietly into the practice room, I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice that there was someone already in here.

  The room was chaotic, shelving holding various practice instruments jutting out from the walls, making it a kind of labyrinth. I remained near the door, unable to see fully into the room because a shelf and a drum kit were blocking my view.

  Who could be in here?

  An irrational anger overtook me. This was my room. My solace. The only place in this whole damn school where I could be myself. Who the hell was stealing that from me?

  I crept forward, moving farther into the room, peering through the shelving to the movement beyond. A body. A girl’s long dark hair. What was she doing here? Wait…she shifted, and then I could see someone else in there with her.

  Danny.

  That was Danny. I recognised his shock of midnight hair. The flash of his blue-flame eyes.

  Danny. With Samantha. One of the popular seniors. They were kissing. With tongue, I could see flashes of it as their mouths shifted. His hands low on her hips. Her hands all over his face, his hair, his neck.

  The sight hit me like a punch to the guts.

  I needed to get out of there. But I could barely move.

  “Oh God, yes, right there,” she breathed, before letting out a low moan, half collapsing against the crook of his neck, her arms around his broad shoulders.

  His hand. It’d…it’d gone up her skirt. He was touching her.

  I wanted to look away. I wanted to close my ears. I wanted to run out the door and never come back.

  But I couldn’t because as horrifying as it was, I wanted to watch him.

  I wanted to see him kiss her neck, peeks of his tongue appearing.

  I wanted to see his hand moving under her skirt.

  I wanted to hear the noises he was coaxing from her.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  That’s when his eyes locked onto mine.

  He knew I was watching.

  I needed to leave.

  But he had me pinned to the spot. Like he always did when he stared right into me.

  Her moaning got louder, her breathing quickened. At the same time, I couldn’t breathe. I was sure I was about to pass out.

  All the while he didn’t take his eyes off me.

  His other hand curled around her neck, squeezing. His jaw tensed, his brows furrowed in a determined look, but the corner of his lip lifted in a smirk.

  She let out a curse, her body shaking against his, going limp so that she looked like she was being held up by the hand around her throat.

  Oh, shit. I just watched her come.

  Like what you see, pervert? he mouthed.

  Danny withdrew his hand from under her skirt, pushing her aside so I could see his shirt untucked and partly unbuttoned, his firm chest underneath, a bulge in his pants. Then he lifted his fingers—the fingers that had coaxed an orgasm from another girl—and licked them, his eyes locked on mine.

  I turned and ran, banging out the door, not caring anymore that the noise would betray me. I just had to get out of there. I just had to…air. I needed air.

  Space.

  I needed to unsee what I had just seen.

  I gulped in oxygen as I stumbled down the empty corridor. But I couldn’t get enough. I had to slow down to catch my breath.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around and slamming me against the wall. Danny towered over me, a look of fury on his face, his delicious cologne assaulting my lungs, choking me further.

  His hand curled around my neck, the same way he’d done to her. It was the same hand he’d used on her, the dampness on his fingers smearing on my skin. Dear God, I could smell her on his fingers. For some reason it only served to coax a pool of wetness between my own legs.

  “I saw you, Dearg.”

  Red.

  Already my skin started to heat with shame under his palm.

  “Saw what?”

  If I denied it, maybe it never happened. Except even now, with him this close to me, his swollen lips right there, I couldn’t help but stare at them, remembering the way he looked as he kissed her, his eyes on me, just like they were now.

  “Why were you watching?”

  “You were in my room,” I defended.

  A thought flashed through my mind. He’d gone in there with her on purpose. He wanted me to see him. To watch him. I had played right into his hands.

  He smirked. “The music practice room is not your room. Tell me, why were you watching?”

  “I…I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You had a choice. You could have backed out of that room just as quietly as you entered. But you didn’t.” He leaned in closer so I could smell artificial strawberry—her lip balm, I could see it smeared on the edges of his mouth. It mixed in the air with the smell of his cologne and her. “Why didn’t you, Dearg?”

  “I…” I couldn’t look away. But I could never admit that to him.

  “You liked it.”

  “No.” Liar.

  “You wanted to know what it’d be like if I did that to you.”

  Yes. “No!”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, the aching intensifying between my legs. Even in the darkness behind my lids he was all I could smell, all I could sense. All I could feel.

  Why the hell did my body have to react this intensely around him? Why did I cling onto the sweet Danny I knew, when he’d clearly been overtaken by this horrible, angry creature? Why did I want this monster just as much as I wanted the boy I once knew?

  His breath curled around my cheek as he leaned even closer in, the heat rolling off him feeling like an inferno.

  “What if I told you,” his lips grazed my cheekbone, making every inch of me tense up, “that when I was kissing her, I was imagining it was your mouth? That when I had my fingers curled up inside her, I was wondering how much tighter your virgin cunt would be?”

  I sucked in a breath, my eyes snapping open. He was so close. So damn close I could see the threads of opal in his blue eyes. Could see that tiny patch of gold in his left eye, his one visible flaw. Those eyes that were now fixed on my lips, my lips now parting for him, aching for him to close the distance and put an end to my imaginings.

  His fingers loosened from around my neck and began to trail down my throat, towards my chest, leaving a trail of wildfire.

  All he had to do was lean in and claim me. I’d let him. I had always been his, since the day he burst into my hospital room. In a way, I’d always be, no matter how badly he treated me.
<
br />   He lowered his lips until they were close, a hair’s breath away, and we were breathing in the same air. It felt like he was sucking the air from my lungs.

  His lips broke into a smile. His eyes snapped up to meet my gaze and he laughed, smearing his fingers across my lips. I could taste his rage. His hatred. I could taste her.

  He shoved back from me. “You are pathetic.”

  He was playing with me. Fucking with me, just like always.

  He grinned at me as if crushing my heart under his boot was all a big joke to him.

  “Stay the fuck away from me.”

  He turned and strode away, my soul shattering under his heavy feet, my mutinous body still aching for his touch.

  17

  ____________

  Ailis

  Now – Dublin, Ireland

  Veronica slammed into my shoulder as I walked past her and her entourage, who were basically carbon copies of her. They were clustered in the front and centre row of the lecture hall right before the next Advanced Performance & Arrangement Class.

  “Sorry,” I muttered out of habit.

  “Watch it, freak.”

  I kept going, keeping my mouth shut. I knew all about Veronica Shaw. She was the daughter of one of the current DCM board members, a famous ex-music producer. Rumour had it that she had already scored a recording contract for once she graduated, thanks to Daddy. She was already a fixture in the social pages, attending openings and events on the arm of football players, designers and other famous folk.

  Exactly the kind of girl that Danny O’Donaghue would end up with.

  I hurried up the stairs and sat at the back of the lecture hall again, placing my backpack on the seat next to me like a shield. I opened my notepad and pretended to be immersed in the lines on my paper, trying to talk down the turmoil inside me at seeing Danny again.

  I kept glancing up every time the door opened.

  Ethan wandered in just before the bell and spotted me with a wave, before making his way to up me. I moved my backpack aside as he neared.

  “Here’s to a better class today, hey?” he said with a wink as he slid into his seat.

  I groaned internally. Couldn’t everyone miraculously get amnesia over the last class?

  I sunk farther into my chair, trying to make myself feel small.

  Danny didn’t stride in until ten minutes past the hour. Late. Not that anyone in here was going to say anything. The room fell into a reverent hush at his arrival.

  He moved like liquid across the stage like he was born to be on it, the muscles of his back rippling under his fitted black shirt as he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook. The female half the class gave out a collective sigh, as did some of the males.

  “Does this class seem more crowded to you?” I whispered to Ethan.

  “Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ms Kavanagh?” Danny’s voice boomed out through the lecture room.

  Shit. How the hell did he hear me from up there? Damn acoustics in this room.

  For the second lesson in a row, everybody turned to stare at me. I caught Veronica and her group of overly made up, tight-shirted Barbie dolls making snide eyes at me.

  “N-no,” I called back.

  “No, what?” Danny’s stare was relentless. He wanted me to call him sir or professor or some other term that denoted his superiority to me.

  Damn him.

  “No, professor.”

  I swear something darkened in his eyes before his cool mask returned. He glared at me for another pause before he tore his eyes off me and addressed the class.

  “There seem to be more bodies in this room than last time. The curriculum is not so exciting for you to warrant being here rubbernecking. Would those students who are not enrolled in my class kindly fuck off.”

  Nobody moved.

  Danny crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. “Don’t make me call out the roll and embarrass each and every one of you blow-ins personally.”

  Heads turned. Cheeks reddened. A few girls stood and shuffled to the exits with their heads down.

  Danny shot a glare to a few more people.

  One or two more students shuffled off and the door shut behind the last one.

  “As I said during the last class,” Danny said, his deep voice booming effortlessly around the lecture hall, “in case you were too busy talking to listen,” he shot me a look that would have made leaves wither, “as much as I do love the sound of my own voice, this is not a class where I talk and you sit there like fat lumps and listen.

  “You,” his eyes scanned the whole crowd, “are all going to sing a song for the class. Any song, any genre. I would advise that you choose one that shows off your voice best rather than what is popular.”

  My palms grew sweaty. Dear God, don’t pick me to go first.

  His eyes snapped to mine and I tried to hide the fact that I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Why did I always feel like I was drowning when he looked at me with those moody-water eyes?

  “Professor,” one of the lads down the front raised his hand.

  “What?” Danny snapped as he tore his eyes off me and focused his displeasure on the unlucky student.

  The poor kid, whose name I didn’t know, lowered his hand and cowered in his seat. “Um, what if we can’t sing. What if we play an instrument instead?”

  “Then play your damn instrument. I don’t fucking care. I just want to see what I’m working with. To see whether there is any shred of talent in this infantile cesspool.” He waved his hands around to indicate us, his students.

  “Um, professor?” Another student piped up, a young boy named Calvin, I think. “I don’t think you’re supposed to swear around us.”

  Danny’s stare was like a laser. “You don’t like it when I swear?”

  Calvin had turned pale and was sinking into his seat like he was on a capsizing raft. “Not that I don’t like it but that maybe you—”

  “Then you are free to get the fuck out my class.” Danny pointed at the door.

  Calvin let out a whimper and shut up.

  My insides burned for him. I knew what it was like to feel the brunt of Danny’s sharp disapproving focus.

  At least, a voice inside me said, you’re not the only one he picks on.

  Which makes you less special. I shoved that stupid voice away.

  “Hey, do you want to do a duet with me?” Ethan whispered.

  I was beginning to suspect that Ethan had a thing for me. He always stuck by my side in the classes we had together and he was always so attentive. I was still clinging on to the hope that a spark would ignite between us. It would make things so much easier…

  “I, um,” I whispered back, “I don’t think we can do duets.”

  “I’ll ask.” Ethan stuck his hand up.

  “No, what are you doing?” I grabbed at his arm shot up in the air.

  He just raised his other arm, the one farther away from me, and waved, catching the attention of the blue-eyed devil himself.

  “What do you want?” Danny snapped.

  Suddenly the attention was on us again. I could almost feel Calvin’s relief. I wanted to disappear.

  “Professor,” Ethan asked boldly, “can we do a duet?”

  Danny’s lip pulled into a cruel smile. “Let me guess, you want to sing along with your little girlfriend next to you.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he shot me a side-grin. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Dear God, kill me now. I sank farther into my seat, trying to hide my face with a curtain of hair.

  “No, you cannot sing a duet, whatever your fucking name is—”

  “Ethan.”

  “—and for that stupid question,” Danny waved an arm out with a flourish, “you can go first.”

  18

  ____________

  Danny

  His girlfriend.

  That little shit had the fucking gall to call Ailis his girlfriend.

  Actually, Danny,
you called her that when you taunted him.

  I shoved that voice of reason away. It was always piping up at such inconvenient times.

  Ailis couldn’t be anyone’s girlfriend.

  Why is that, Danny boy? Do you want her to be yours?

  I growled under my breath, as I told that voice inside me to shut the fuck up.

  The lad sitting next to Ailis stood up—I’d forgotten his name already so let’s call him Pencildick—and sauntered down towards the stage, a cocky grin on his boyish face. He must be a Gaelic football player because he had the shoulders and strong thighs of one.

  I could fucking take him, though.

  I’d gotten into plenty of fights and won them and that was before I’d started training at O’Malley’s gym back in Limerick with my two best friends, Diarmuid and Declan.

  Pencildick stood next to me on the stage and waved to the class like a naff fucker.

  Then he glanced sidelong at me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, go on, then. Blow me away with your talent.”

  Pencildick turned back to the class. “Hey class, I’m Ethan. And I’m going to sing ‘No Matter What’ by Boyzone for you.”

  I let out a snort. Boy-fucking-zone? Nineties boy band nostalgia. Kill me now.

  I turned down the lights in the lecture hall so that the only spotlight was on Pencildick. A few classmates called out words of encouragement to him.

  I dropped into my seat back in the dark corner and looked out and up to where I knew she was sitting, her “spot” burned into my memory, safe in the knowledge that no one could see where I was looking.

  The kid was good but unremarkable. He hit the right notes, mostly in tune, but there was no passion in his delivery.

  When he finished the class erupted into applause for him. Polite fuckers. Once they got out of here they’d realise that no one in the business was ever going to be polite to them ever again.

  I rubbed my face with my hands. Only when the silence sat bloated in the room did I realise that they were waiting for my feedback. Pencildick was standing on stage facing me.