Layla and Her Alien

by Andrea Allen

  The Family Hawke fulfilled what was prophesied in the ancient texts and continue to ascend to greatness. Their empire was colossal, and their subjects were too many to count. Linnea couldn’t believe that she had once been a nineteen-year-old girl who knew nothing of the world. Now she and her family were limitless.

  THE END

  Bonus 20 of 30

  Alive

  Description

  When he walked into my math class, I was pissed at him. Dean took over the teaching position after my father had passed away, who I still missed whenever I walked into that class. And Dean’s presence only reinforced my loss. I lashed out.

  Dean wouldn't take any attitude from me. What started as animosity between us turned into something much more significant and compelling. I couldn’t walk away even if I needed to.

  He wanted to discipline me.

  I wanted to obliterate him.

  Except he was my teacher.

  Forbidden

  Yet…

  Tempting.

  Chapter 1

  “Lily.”

  I glanced up guiltily, jolted from doodling a flower vortex on the corner of my loose-leaf notebook. I was supposed to be paying attention to Romeo and Juliet, but their supposedly love story was boring and useless. Dying uselessly over love.

  That coupled with the fact that my best friend, Kate, puking her guts out at home over the tacos we ate over the weekend, made for a boring day.

  I couldn't wait until my next class, math. Math was my favorite subject. Next year, I was entering college pursuing a degree in mathematical economics. It was made even better with my dad teaching me.

  “Yes, Mr. French?” I said, as I stared up at him.

  Yeah. Mr. French was teaching English. That never got old, I thought as I chuckled inwardly.

  He looked at me sympathetically, “Lily, please go to the principal’s office.”

  “Why?” I shrank further in my seat when the students around me started to ooh me. I didn’t do anything wrong, as far as I knew. My dad would be terribly disappointed in me. He’s been a patient and loving dad, but he guarded his professional life sacredly. I couldn’t mess that up for him. So I was extra careful about how my actions could reflect on him.

  “I’ll write you a hall pass.” He ignored my question and placed a blue slip on my desk.

  Curious and glad to leave the class, I packed up my books and bag while subtly giving the middle finger to whoever was still laughing at me.

  I ran out of the class and down the staircase before Mr. French could reprimand me.

  I was careful about my actions but that didn’t mean I didn’t fight back subtly.

  Now I wish I was more prepared when I entered the principal’s office.

  One month later

  I stared glumly at the clock hand, desperate for this class to be over. The students milling about faded as I focused on the second clock hand. Two more minutes. The substitute teacher was droning on about the theorems and proofs.

  The teacher that was teaching calculus was not my dad. My dad was not writing on that whiteboard. Once what used to be my favorite subject turned to something I couldn’t get away fast enough from. I barely spoke in class or participated.

  We’ve had a substitute ever since my dad passed away.

  A stroke while driving, veering the car into oncoming traffic.

  The heartbreaking news was that the cause of death was trauma to the head, not the stroke. Only if he hadn’t been driving the car. He could have lived another day.

  He was stolen from me too early. There were many years that we could have spent together.

  “Before the bell rings, I wanted to let you guys know something. It’s been a pleasure to be your substitute teacher under the circumstances. I’m sad to say that today is my last day subbing for you all. Tomorrow, you’ll meet your new math teacher, Mr. Carter. It was a pleasure teaching you.”

  The bell rang.

  The students clapped in farewell to our substitute.

  I couldn't bear to look at him so I walked out.

  Chapter 2

  I settled in the back of the class. Away from prying eyes and any chance of being called upon.

  Everyone was chatting away or on their smartphones. I kept my head down and read my book. A hush fell as the noise slowly quieted. Everyone sat up and pulled their notebooks out on the desk.

  I looked over to the front of the class to see Mr. Carter plop his briefcase on top of his desk as he looked over the class.

  I swore a collective sigh was heard.

  He was too handsome to be a teacher and too young to be a teacher. Too rugged to be a teacher. He sported a beard and it was trimmed close making him sexier. Black hair that was cropped short on the sides and longer on the top. His skin was tanned from the sun. His hazel eyes were commanding as he took in the class.

  The effect was devastating.

  And I didn’t like the way my body reacted.

  “My name is Mr. Carter and I’ll be your teacher for the rest of your senior year.” He turned to pull out the attendance sheet from his briefcase. “Let’s do a roll call.”

  “Adam. John. David.” He continued to call upon each student until he stumbled upon my name. “Lily.”

  When he heard no response he looked up, searching for me. He was about to mark me absent but the students had turned around to stare at me, giving away my much needed anonymity.

  “Ms. Lily, I don’t have time for childish antics. Please make yourself present when I call upon your name. Let’s try this again. Lily?” He stared at me, expectantly.

  Something about him made me want to do the exact opposite of what he asked me. I wanted to make it difficult for him. He wasn't supposed to be there.

  He had permanently taken the position that was my dad’s. Everyday his presence would be a constant reminder of my dad’s absence.

  I craved to do something bad.

  “What if I don’t want to make myself present?” I challenged.

  “I would tell you that you’ve forced yourself to the top of the list where I will be forced to call upon you for every answer.”

  “I won’t answer them.”

  He turned to address the class. “There will always be one idiot who will stand randomly, make stupid jokes and be a troublemaker.” He lets his gaze roam over me. “I’m assuming that will be you?”

  “I’m not the one standing.” I retorted.

  Pin drop silence followed.

  Mr. Carter was quiet for a few moments. “You think you’re so smart. Which you can be and will be. But right now, I’m ten times smarter than you.”

  “I’m zero times smarter than you.”

  Ooh-ahhs surrounded the class.

  The students watched the exchange with fascination.

  “It’ll be remiss of me to not to send you to the principal’s office, then,” he answered.

  “Been there. Done that.” That was the closest I had come to acknowledge that horrible, world-tilting day in the principal’s office. “Try again.” I responded with my chin in the air.

  It was a flicker but I noticed it nonetheless. He wasn't pleased. His hazel eyes glowered. He didn’t like that I challenged him especially in front of the class. I brought his authority into question.

  I had him pegged. He was the domineering type and everyone had to bow to him.

  “Don’t try me, Ms. Lily.” His sleeve stretched as he pulled his wrist to check the time on his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to remind you who is the boss.”

  I snorted with an air of derision. “Are you even old enough to be a teacher?” He looked to be in his early twenties.

  His gaze bore into me, trying to bend me my existence to his will.

  I stared back, defiantly. I wouldn't cower to him. Nor bend to his will.

  He broke the heated stare down. “Old enough,” he murmured. That murmur tingled down my spine. That murmur promised retribution.

  The thought excited me mo
re than it should before I shook my head.

  He decided to start the class lesson while I sat there on my phone. The class settled into the daily lesson about triangles and I continued to play on my phone, uncaring of what was going on around me.

  About fifteen minutes in, my phone was snatched out of my hand. “Hey!”

  “You aren't taking notes.” He tapped one long finger against the notebook I had placed just for ceremony.

  “I don't need to.” I gritted my teeth. All the teachers had left me to my devices after my father died. In sympathy and pity.

  Mr. Carter never seemed to have gotten that memo.

  “I don’t tolerate childish behavior,” he stated. He glanced at the phone in his hand. “Candy Crush is more important than passing?” He raised one eyebrow.

  I laughed, derisively, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t just pass. I have the highest grade in the class.” I stated, arrogantly, locking eyes with him.

  I was fucking smart.

  “You may have. But you have yet to take my test and quizzes. Don’t be so overly confident. And since you deemed my lesson as easy, I’m simply going to have to make them harder for everyone.” He pocketed my phone and walked away.

  Groans ensued from the class. The students grumbled around me, shooting me nasty glares.

  I shrugged. I wasn't speaking hyperbole. The math was too fucking easy.

  The substitute spoon fed them every answer.

  We’re taking calculus, not freshman algebra. It was supposed to be challenging.

  Chapter 3

  After class, I went up to the front of the class to grab my phone. Mr. Carter was erasing the whiteboard. During class, he took his suit jacket off and his bulging biceps would distract me whenever he exerted them.

  Like now. I could keep staring at him.

  I stood there silently waiting for him to notice me. He took his time to acknowledge me—erasing the whiteboard, packing his markers and eraser into his briefcase, and shuffling all the papers in a single file.

  Finally, a few minutes later, he walked around the desk to where I was standing, stopping a couple of inches before and leaned back on the desk.

  The air between us was charged and electric.

  The thrill of sparring with him excited me.

  I was confused with the visceral reaction my traitorous body was experiencing for the first time.

  My nipples poked through my thin bra. Stubbornly, I blamed the cold draft coming in from the window.

  In response, his eyes flicked down to my chest before raising his eyes back to mine. I shook my head, unsure of what was happening.

  We were in a stare down. I was intensely aware of his bare forearms when he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt.

  I broke the stare, pushing my palm out, silently. He knew what I wanted.

  He looked at my outstretched hand and raised his eyebrows.

  Mr. Carted was going to have me break the silence.

  “I need my phone.”

  He smirked. “You will not get it until the end of the day.”

  “What? Why?” I sputtered.”That’s insane.”

  “I will not be challenged. And to answer your earlier question, I’m twenty-five.”

  “You can’t just take my phone. It’s not yours.”

  “Tell you what. Apologize and I’ll give it.”

  “No.” I glared at him

  “Okay, then.” He straightened and turned halfway to grab his briefcase.

  I sighed and closed my eyes. “Fine. Sorry.”

  What can I say? I couldn't live without my phone.

  He flashed a smile at my quick capitulation. “See. That wasn't so hard. This is the start of a great relationship.” He pulled my phone out of his pocket and passed it to me. "And I wanted to take this opportunity and build on that relationship. I'm sorry about your dad. Life is cruel and you didn't need to bear that at such a young age." His voice was contrite and his eyes were sympathizing.

  He was truly sorry as far as I could tell. Too bad he didn't know that I hated sympathy. It's the reason why I haven't let anyone console or come up to me. I've built a wall around me that screamed fuck off.

  I walked away. “It's the start of the worst relationship of your life.” I threw back over my shoulders.

  He seemed to understand that I didn't want sympathy, pity or be coddled. I wanted it as I gave it to people. Straight.

  “Okay, then. Glad we got that out of the way. The next time you disrespect me in front of the class and try to undermine me, I won't be as kind and forgiving.”

  “Okay, Mr. Carter.” I said in a sing-song voice over my shoulders as I continued to give him my back. This wasn't the last of what he was going to hear of me. He was in for a rude-awakening.

  My steps faltered. I swore I heard him say ‘fuck me’ when he got a look at my ass.

  He was my teacher.

  I was his student.

  I had to have imagined that.

  The charged air surrounding us when we were in the same room meant nothing.

  It couldn't.

  Chapter 4

  Kate and I were settled in my bedroom watching TV, scrolling mindlessly through the channels when she suddenly bursts with, “I think I’m going to break up with Simon.”

  I gasped in horror, “What? Why? You guys are sickeningly and sweetly in love”

  “Exactly! We are sickeningly sweet. I want passion, drama and I-I don’t know!” she stuttered. “I want someone that needs me like water and oxygen.”

  “That love is only found in movies and books. It isn't real, Kate.”

  “It’s possible. Zack and I have that,” she said softly.

  I fumbled. “No, Kate. Tell me you didn’t cheat on Simon.” Sweet Simon who worshipped the ground she walked on. He loved Kate as much as an eighteen-year-old could. We had become a threesome, Simon becoming a great friend to me.

  Kate glanced towards the window, not answering me. It was fleeting, but I saw the guilt shining in her eyes.

  My mind is racing because cheating was something I didn’t think Kate could do. She would rather break it off than cheat.

  She answered after a few minutes. “It happened one time. The sex was great. Passionate. Clingy. It was raw fucking,” she explained.

  “But like everything else, that will fade to mutual attraction and like for each other,” I said gently, trying to sway her decision. Kate was a hopeless believer in sparks flying, chemistry sizzling. “You’ve seen it firsthand hand with my parents.”

  My parents had a love marriage. It was great for the first couple of years until it fizzled into nothing. Dad kept trying to regain that connection, that spark. But my mother had become bitter after years living in his shadow, following a man and giving up her career. She grew bored and restless. But my dad never stopped trying.

  Until he died.

  I lived alone.

  I was only seventeen—about to turn eighteen—when child services learned of my case. I begged to be able to continue to live on my own. I was going to turn eighteen by the time I graduated. The mortgage was already paid off. And my dad’s life insurance policy would cover my college expenses.

  I was pragmatic. I believed in mutual respect, kinship and adoration, but passionate, crazy love didn’t exist in my world. It fizzled into a shell of what it used to be.

  “You don’t understand, Lily. You may be right but I want to find that out for myself. I want to get hurt. I want to fight. Simon and I never fight. We’re comfortable with each other. Fuck comfortable.” Kate stared off into space.

  I studied her resolve. I thought back to that charged energy I felt with Mr. Carter. That single encounter with him was more heightened experience I had, more so than any other boy.

  That connection was elusive and to think that I had found it with my math teacher was weird. The same math teacher who was there because my dad was cruelly taken away from me way too early.

  Life was so fucking unfair and it did
n’t even give a shit. It threw shit at you and you had to take it whether you chose to or not.

  I didn't choose Mr. Carter and that spark but I'll be damned if I didn't fight back.

  Chapter 5

  “A moment, Ms. Lily.” My wrist was gripped tightly in a steely hand. Leaving me no choice but to stay back with Mr. Carter.

  We went at it again in class, arguing. He kept picking on me thinking I couldn't answer the questions. I answered every single one. He forgot I was the daughter of a math teacher. Math was my favorite subject. I took everything he dished.

  But that didn't mean I liked being called upon.

  So I became a smart ass. And rude.

  Every time he got in my face our breaths turned heavy and our eyes smoldered.

  “Hurry up, I have English next.” I narrowed my eyes at him. I had free period after this but he didn't need to know that.

  “I’ll take my time.” His voice was firm and resolute. He was sorely pissed and full of pent up frustration and caged energy.

  He was going to unleash it on me.

  I couldn't help the involuntary shiver.

  He let go of my arm and went to lock the door.

  “Why are you locking the door?”

  “To ensure we are not disturbed when I discipline you.”

  “And what's the worst you can do? Detention?” I said sarcastically.

  “No, trust me, I can do worse. This is the third class where we've wasted precious class time arguing.” He grabbed my hands, maneuvering them on the edge of the desk flat so I was slightly bent from the waist. My ass was sticking out.

  In the back of my mind, I knew we had crossed over the inappropriate lines and boundaries were being crossed.

  Boundaries were already crossed when he engaged with me in class. He could have easily ignored me or sent me to detention.

  But he didn’t. I got the feeling that he enjoyed it.

  We were both in too far to retreat from the challenge of outdoing each other. Both of our prides were too big to back down.