Bold Love

Chapter 8 - Liar

Y/N's POV

The first week not playing out how I wanted it to, the professors either boring me with their endless lectures, sucking the slightest spark of interest out of me or distracting me, so I couldn't concentrate on anything.
However, the latter only refers to one specific teacher, one that actually isn't as old as my grandma or already losing their hair, the thought making me shiver with disgust.

I look to the side as I hear a loud group of boys pave their way through the corridor, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

The guys push each other playfully, which grows into more aggressive shoving, tumbling through the hall without caring about the bypassing students.

Who thought that after High School the boys would somehow be more mature because it seems like they are aging backwards.

Fortunately, the group doesn't crash into me, or I would have really lost my composure. One thing I couldn't stand were these idiots fooling around like children. They walk past me, one boy glancing my way, winking at me.

Did I mention that I hate guys?

Everything goes fine until one of the boys crashes into a bypassing woman who stumbles down onto the floor, her books scattering in every direction.

She pushes her hair out of her face that has fallen over her shoulders, hiding her face, revealing a perplexed Ms Hathaway, looking aggrieved behind her shoulder.
Her eyes follow the group, who don't even give her a second glance, walking away with loud laughter.

These dickheads have the nerve to not even care about her. I clench my jaw, narrowing my eyes into slits, staring daggers into their backs.

The group out of sight I instantly walk up to her, dropping on my knees next to her, reaching for the remaining papers and books.

"These hallways are murder. The guys are
making it more dangerous it seems," I joke.

Surprise flashes her face for a second when she notices me, but she recovers quickly.

"Yeah," she chuckles, "I believe so too."

We both pick up the last items, standing up at the same time.

"Thank you." She says, holding her hand out, so I can hand her the papers.

Looking down at her hand - her slender fingers reaching towards me - I gulp, trying to find an appropriate excuse to talk to her longer.

"No, I'll help you," I insist, "It's no problem." I add, seeing her unconvinced expression, that means I've got it.

Her eyes scan over me, considering my offer, my stomach clenching at being on display for her.

"Okay."

She leads us to her office at the end of the hallway, while I walk a few steps behind her, not wanting to rush the time I have with her.

Following her like an obedient puppy, I let my eyes roam over her appearance, taking in her delicate legs that are again hugged by flattering jeans, my eyes practically glued to the teasing sway of her hips.

As we arrive at her office she halts at the entrance, opening the door for me, letting me in first.

Stepping into her office, the first thing I notice is the big old-fashioned desk in the middle of the room, papers neatly folded on the surface.

A red couch against the wall, seeming awfully comfortable and a bookshelf beside it, looking ancient with all the books stuffed in it, intimating me knowing how smart she is when she is that well-read.