Chapter 2

Hop, skip and a week

Each day is a new canvas to paint upon. Make sure your picture is full of life and happiness, and at the end of the day, you don't look at it and wish you had painted something different.

A week has passed and yet, Andrea had yet to get used to her old class. Every morning as soon as she stepped onto campus, she would always get lost because of the crowds of walking people and every morning, she would bump into her Foreign History teacher, Prof. Montenegro.

Even though he didn't like to be called that, Andrea always did. She couldn't shake some feeling whenever she was near him, and so she called him that name to push him away. But it didn't seem that way; it only seemed to pull him to her even more.

"Good morning, Professor Montenegro," she said politely without looking at him in the eye.

"Don't call me that," he hissed as they passed by. And every morning for the past week, they would share the same words, always wishing to have said more.

Like any other morning, she sat in the front of her first class. The teacher was a middle aged woman who didn't smile for anything. No matter how many jokes or questions, she didn't smile. She always wore purple to class; it was safe to say that it was her favorite color.

Some of the other students talked about her, saying that she was some woman who didn't get laid in a long time but there was nothing for sure. There were only rumors, but that teacher wasn't the weirdest one; in fact, she was the sanest.

There was Mrs. Crock. She was about 30 and was completely goth. There was also Mr. Lennon and he looked like he had Herpes; and then there was Mr. Montenegro who was as young as her.

Montenegro seemed to hunt for her anywhere and she only hoped that the semester would end and that she would not have to see him anymore. Yet, the week never seemed to end.


"In Spain, there is...." Derick gave instruction to his class with confidence and strength. He knew every word by heart; he was young, yes, but it was his passion. Andrea could see it in his eyes, the burning passion for foreign history in his eyes.

It made her wander into a dream world where only she could be, for she knew it was silly to have such strange feelings.

His nose on her neck, nuzzling her skin with care. His hands on her waist keeping her close and his lips brushing against her pale skin as he sank his teeth in making a mark on her shoulder.

With the blink of an eye, she woke up from that weird fantasy. She hated him. He was rude to her and she hated him At least she tried to convince herself of that.

"Andrea!" Professor Montenegro roared, making her jump.

"Yes?" she answered. She secretly wished that she could just hide herself but she kept a straight face.

"What did I just say?" he asked. His eyes burned into her as the rest of the class's stares burned a hole into her back.

"I... I dunno," She said.

"I don't know," he corrected. "And maybe you would know if you paid more attention and stopped doodling on your notebook," he glared. "Class dismissed." He waved his hand signaling that the class was over.

"Wow, Mr. Derrick really has it against you," a male said as she looked at her with pity. He was blond and had bright green eyes.

"I don't know why... I haven't done anything wrong," she replied with a sigh.

"Well, you kind of yelled at him the first day," the male chuckled. Andrea bit her lip and giggled as well as she picked up her notebook and stuffed it into her bag.

"I didn't know."

"Happens all the time," the male said. "I'm Andrew," he introduced himself as he extended his hand with a friendly smile.

"Andrea," she said as she shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you. See you tomorrow," he said as he walked away.

How sweet, she thought as she picked up her bag from her desk.

"Don't be fool. Andrew is no angel," Derrick said. Andrea looked at him and glared.

"I don't think this concerns you, Professor," she replied as she started to walk away.

"I know that," he said as they both stood in front of the door looking at each other. "I'm just warning you," he said before walking away.

She stared at his back, confused with what she saw in his eyes, confused about the simple flip her belly did.

How can someone have such an affect on her?