Sexts → Gerard Piqué

Gerard

JackieA_ : I'm sorry, I didn't really mean to offend you. :(

JackieA_ : I'm truly sorry.

Daddypk : Chill, baby girl. I wasn't offended. I had to take a call.

I smirked to myself, whilst reading the apologies over and over again— I admit, that was cute. I watched as the faded 'D' next to the message bubble turned darker, and then into 'R'.

A smile hugged my chapped lips— which indeed, hurt a little; on seeing Jackie typing. Much to my ill-luck, before she could reply, the bell went off, indicating the end of the period.

I was partly happy and partly sad— happy because I was free to go; sad because I had a pesky fiancé waiting for me back at home.

Fiancé— oh, how I loathed that word. I was forcefully engaged to a stranger, who was nothing like Jackie— plaguy as ever, she would complain all throughout the day, pretending that I actually like her.

I do not. I even doubt if I'm the only man in her life— from twenty eight years of existence, I can tell if a woman is cheating on her man, or not and this time, I wasn't just dubious— the issue was evident.

I glanced up at Miss Alba, who was hurriedly shoving her belongings into her backpack. I must say, she is weird— in the good way, of course.

Studious, intelligent and quiet too— not among the lassies who endeavour by risking their grades, only to acquire my attention.

I think it's rather comical— I'm twenty eight; and dating eighteen year olds would be plain ridiculous. Wait a minute— Jackie is eighteen too..

Well, aren't they my students?— dating students would be fatuous; Jackie isn't my student. Now, that's apt.

A tender cough hauled me out of my trance; it was Miss Alba— I was gaping at her. I immediately felt contrite about my indiscreet action; for her cheeks had now flushed a light pink.

For your information, I did not have any sort of pash on her— she's a student, and as a matter of fact, I do not even recall her first name.

"May I go, sir?" She asked, making me snap out of my trance– yet again. Damnit, Gerard!

"Yes," I stated, as boldly as possible. I grasped my own backpack to distract myself from the girl who probably thinks that her physics teacher is charmed by her beauty. Beauty? Was she even beautiful?— I did not know, because she wasn't the one I was thinking about when I was literally, literally, gaping at her profile like a shameless debauchee.

I exhaled deeply as she vacated the room, grasping my cellular phone once again. As I was about to press the power button to unlock it, a droning splatting sound made me avert my gaze towards the window.

I groaned mentally, on seeing thick blobs of water hitting the window pane— splendid! Now I'll have to bear my fiancé's nonsensical tomfoolery while freezing to ice. I really dislike winter downpours.

I quickly paced downstairs, almost sprinting through the empty hallways. I slowed down on seeing a student— a very familiar lady standing at the exit, looking utterly dismayed. I did not really want to talk to her— that would only add to her daydreams. Then again, I couldn't leave her alone in that particular state of affairs; being the chivalrous man that I am.

Heaving another sigh, I inched up to her. "Miss Alba?" I called out, that made her jolt. She turned around, an innocent facade sugarcoating the oversexed soul inside— that's legitimately how I see all my students. Riotous how ten minutes ago, I was thinking that she was different from the other female students, and now because of my own actions (the part where it seemed like I was ogling her) made the tables turn. She's no different to me now and I wished I hadn't approached her sexual being.

"Y-yes, Mr. Piqué?" Oh dear, even the way she batted her eyelashes made me cringe inwardly— she was probably undressing me in her mind.

"Aren't you going home?" I asked. Oh no, Gerard— she's here to relish while turning into a popsicle.

Popsicle? Popsicle!— dear lord, why does everything sound so inappropriate?

"I can't– I don't have an umbrella," she exhaled.

Why don't you call someone up and ask them to receive you instead of standing here like a birdbrain?

"My phone's dead– I can't even call anybody," she spoke further. Oops, did I say that aloud?

Thankfully, no— she was just stating.

"I could give you a lift, if you want me to." I immediately regretted saying that, contemplating how inappropriate it sounded.

"I- It's okay, Mr. Piqué. I don't want to cause you any trouble– I'll take the bus," she answered.

Please do.

Be chivalric, you disrespectful twat. My inner voice was really challenging me now.

"It's okay, it wouldn't be a trouble," I spoke hesitantly.

Come on now, don't act like you don't want this to happen, you little concupiscent vixen.

"Okay," an overly creepy smile lit up her countenance. "Thank you, Mr. Piqué!" She almost squeaked.

What am I doing?