Bad Boys of Redwood Academy

Chapter 2

Walking down the hallways alone, I headed toward Literature—my favorite class—with Mr. Avery. Dad might want me to become an engineer, and Mom might want me to become a doctor, both wanting me to dive headfirst into the science and tech field once I went off to college. And while I knew I’d be able to succeed in those paths, I didn’t love those subjects.

I wanted to read more literature, study famous poets and writers through the centuries, and understand the meaning behind the stories and words they had written. Sure, science and tech were the future, but art was everything and more.

The past. The present. The future.

Without art and beauty, there was no point in life. I truly believed that.

Sighing softly to myself, I climbed the stairs to the second floor. It had been three periods into the school day already, and nobody had once wished me a happy birthday. I shouldn’t have minded because I hadn’t expected anything, but I wanted my senior year to be different.

That’s what I get for having no friends and being antisocial.

That’s what I get for having no friends and being antisocial.Holding my books to my chest, I followed a couple of students down the hallway to Mr. Avery’s class. Gunther Zurn—a druggie who had skateboarded off the principal’s desk last month—pulled open the door in front of me, spotted me behind him, and held the door wide open for me to enter before heading in behind me.

“Thanks,” I said, walking to my desk in the front of the class.

Mr. Avery glanced up from his large desk, one brow arched at Gunther and his straight teeth gritted together. Gunther and Mr. Avery had never gotten along, mainly because Gunther was a straight-up junkie with a foul mouth who liked to interrupt lessons.

After a couple of moments, Mr. Avery stood, grabbed a whiteboard marker from the front, and turned to me. “Miss Sato, happy birthday.”

My eyes widened slightly, and I sat up in my chair, unable to suppress the grin that stretched across my face. Warmth spread through my chest, heating every bit of me.

Someone actually remembered.

Someone actually remembered.“Um”—I giggled nervously to myself—“thank you, Mr. Avery.”

Giving me a small smile, he turned around to write today’s lesson on the board. I pulled out my notebook for today, crossed my legs, and gulped, glancing up at his muscles flexing through the back of his baby-blue dress shirt. Mr. Avery was my favorite teacher for more than one reason.

When Mr. Avery placed down his whiteboard marker, glanced back at the class, and caught me staring at him, I quickly averted my gaze and smoothed out the fabric of my skirt, hoping that he didn’t think much of it.

He was my professor. It was wrong.

But he was the only person who seemed to care in Redwood, the only genuine professor who loved teaching his subject to the class and enjoyed time with his students.

I scrunched my nose and shook my head, pushing the thought away. My hormones were just messing with me. That was what happened to everyone when they turned eighteen, right? They couldn’t control their filthy thoughts anymore. Maybe even before then too?

Because these thoughts had been happening a lot around Mr. Avery. More than often.

a lot These past few weeks, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him calling me after class, about him telling me that he had extra credit he could give me—and definitely not the textbook kind.

While I didn’t know the first thing about s*x and foreplay and guys, that didn’t stop my hormone-driven mind from thinking about everything a man like him could do to me. His mouth on my skin. His hands on my body. Him inside me.

My cheeks flushed.

Him inside me?

Him inside me?Breath catching in my throat, I pressed my knees together and suppressed a whimper. At least, I hoped nobody heard it. Warmth exploded through my p***y at the thought of Mr. Avery being inside me, pumping into me on his desk, whispering filthy things in my ear.

Things that nobody ever had said or done to me before.

I pressed my hand against my thigh and dug my nails into my flesh, wishing the ache between my legs would disappear. My p***y was gushing with wetness, my gaze focused on the bulge in Mr. Avery’s pants.

“Sakura,” Mr. Avery said, “why don’t you take this one?”

I gulped, my gaze flickering from his face to his pants. “S-sorry, which one?”

Mr. Avery clenched his sharp jaw and leaned on the podium, his gaze lingering on me for much longer than I’d have liked. I nervously swallowed again and scrambled through the assigned reading from last night as my cheeks flamed.

God, this is so embarrassing.

God, this is so embarrassing.“Page sixty-nine.”

Fuck.

Fuck.Some people in the back of the class snickered at the number Mr. Avery had said out loud, but I just found myself growing warmer all over. I flipped through the book to the designated page and desperately tried to push the thought of Mr. Avery and me doing … that.

thatWhat the hell is wrong with me?

What the hell is wrong with me?“Miss Sato, would you like me to repeat the question?”

After swallowing all my pride, I glanced up at him and nodded. “Please, sir.”

At my words, Mr. Avery seemed to tighten his jaw even more. He stared down at the book in his hands and blinked a few times, letting out an unsteady breath through his nose.

Did I anger him?

Did I anger him?A few moments passed, and then he shut his book. “Why don’t you guys read the next two chapters during class? No homework for tonight, hmm?” he asked, not sparing a single look at me, which meant that I’d messed up.

Big time.

I didn’t want him to be angry with me. His class was the only one I actually had fun in.

Gunther Zurn raised his hand. “You want us to read by ourselves?”

“You can do whatever,” Mr. Avery said, busying himself with papers on his desk.

The class erupted into chatter, but I didn’t have any friends, especially in this class, so I opened to the next chapter and peered up at Mr. Avery again. I really hoped that he wasn’t angry that I hadn’t been paying attention.

I loved his class, but he was too distracting sometimes.

He sighed deeply and ran a hand across his forehead, glancing down at his lap, then back up at me.

Fuck, he was angry—or at least upset. And I didn’t blame him. I was the only student who usually even paid attention in his class, and I had been straight-up preoccupied.

preoccupiedSo, I scrambled to my feet, smoothed out my skirt, and hurried to his desk. The ache lingered between my legs, but I forced myself to stand like a normal human being for once, to control my damn body.

“Mr. Avery?” I asked, gnawing on the inside of my cheek. “Can I, um, talk to you for a moment?”