"If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots babe, I just wanna be yours." —Arctic Monkeys.

••

"Cause teacher there are things that I don't want to learn, and the last one I had made me cry!"

I am singing the song 'One More Try' by George Michael in the shower, applying the soap onto my rag with a face covered in suds. I blink my eyes from the burn, positioning my head beneath the running water in a bid to wash it out, all the while humming inexpertly under my breath. That's literally the only line I know in the song and I keep repeating it like a broken record, but it surely doesn't matter because I am home, in my own bathroom, gallivanting under the warm spring of the shower and unwinding after a day of atrocity. I can do what I want, without worrying about someone ogling me at every action of mine.

I step out onto the furry mat by the tub, crinkling my toes into its softness as I reach for a towel from my rack, quickly drying myself while singing under my breath. I slip on my flower-patterned nightie and leave the bathroom, contemplating on whether to start my class assignments, but the inviting scent of cornbread and lasagna can be smelt from upstairs, and so I postpone the thought until I feed this loud growl in my stomach.

Loud growl that managed to embarrass me in front of that bastard today. And despite the fact that his student was starving, he still ate the entire cupcake. Dusting his fingers together elegantly as if he has no clue what compassion is. I can't wait to graduate in a few months. Then I wouldn't have to see his irksome face ever again.

I am eighteen in my last year of high school —for the second time. I got pushed back in the twelfth grade last year because I wasn't performing as the principal had said. Yeah, it was embarrassing seeing all your year group members wearing those dark blue gowns and black hats, walking on that red carpet, and throwing out their college fantasizes. While I am stuck at Camber High for one more year. Stuck with the devil as a teacher.

Mr. Todd teaches Advanced History. I didn't get a chance to do the class last year because the principal had told my mom that it was best if I dropped the subject. After all, I wouldn't have been able to handle it along with my other courses. Seeing that I am a 'slow' student, according to them. I am not, maybe a tad lazy, but I am not slow. They had formulated that idea as a way to assist me with juggling my other classes, but it turned out to be a failed attempt when I did pretty badly at the end of the term. Hence, my parents were advised that I redo the entire senior year. I got jeered for it, pretty badly, and it took a toll on me the whole summer; however, I somehow got over it —for the most part— and came back with a new drive and mindset. I am trying to do better, though it may not look that way in the eyes of everyone else. Including, Mr. Todd.

He's using my history against me and it isn't ironic. He's a history teacher so of course, that's his specialty. He knows I got set back and he's holding it above my head, employing it as his leverage to torment me. I am sick of him.

But I am home now, so no need to think about my bad academics and the history-butt-inspector.

I leave my room and make my way downstairs, noticing that everyone is already seated around the dining table. Everyone being: my mom, my dad, my baby sister Kayla, and my weird older brother Kevin who has an unhealthy obsession with his cellphone. He's currently scrolling down the device, blindly reaching for a stick of carrot but dipping his hand into my father's orange juice instead.

"Jesus, Kevin. Put away the damn phone," my dad glares at him from under his thick-rimmed glasses, and my brother smiles apologetically, setting the cell onto his lap quietly. It certainly won't be long before he takes it up again. He's twenty in his second year of University, but sometimes I think they got his birth date mixed up; my baby sister acts way more mature than him, and she's two years old.

I frown, finding my usual spot across from my technologically absorbed sibling. "Why didn't you guys call me? I was starving."

"We told Kevin to get you, darling." My mom says as she attempts to feed Kayla, a goo of food dribbling down her tiny mouth as she chops on her gum.

"I went to get her, but she was singing about how in love she was with Mr. Todd." Kevin laughs.

What the fuck?

I grab one of the red table linens and throw it into his face. "Don't you dare!"

My mom gives me a stern glare, sloping her head to the side while holding the small spoon to the baby's lips. Kayla is eyeing the food cross-eyed, trying to put her mouth over it but my mom's unsteady hand won't let her. "Go take it up, Kelly. You know better than that."

I roll my eyes and get up, walking around the table and crouching down to pick the cloth up, using the opportunity to pinch Kevin in his leg beneath the table. He laughs at this, not even jerking a little at the assault, all thanks to his sturdy built.

Damn Hockey.

I stand up, giving him the evil eyes as I return to my seat, resting the rag into its respective spot. "Don't play with me like that, you asshole."

"Language, Kelly!" My dad frowns.

"Dad, he knows I hate Mr. Todd, tell him to stop that."

Kevin leans back in his chair and perches his fist over his mouth, concealing a wide grin. "Alright, let me ask this, were you or were you not just singing One More Try by George Michael in the bathroom earlier?"

My dad idly gazes at me, cutting the steak on his plate as he chews his food.

I roll my eyes for the hundredth time. When you live with an annoying brother you have to pray that your eyes don't get stuck in your head one day.

"I was singing the song, but what does that have to do with my teacher?"

"Do you not know the meaning of the song?"

Of course not. I am only familiar with one line of it!

"He's singing it to his female 'teacher' who he is deeply in love with," Kevin educates, reaching for his orange juice and placing it to his lips, taking a modest slurp while I think hard on the limited lyrics stored in my head.

"You should look up the rest of the lyrics. It's interesting." He grins. "Seeing how often you complain about Mr. Todd, it might interest you." He waggles his brows.

"Kevin stop being so inappropriate. Eat your food." My dad orders him, clearly has had enough of his antics.

My father is a serious man most of the time, and though he and Kevin share the same appearance —black, wavy hair, grey eyes, and heart-shaped lips, they act nothing alike. My brother likes goofing around and annoying the hell out of people while my dad keeps a straight face half of the time. It annoys my mom consistently because according to her, he needs to live a little. How do I know this? My room is right next to theirs and they quarrel about the same things every other night. It makes me fear getting married.

Woah let me not jump the gun, I have never even had a boyfriend in my entire life.

When we get to that bridge, which is still so far away, we'll cross it, Kelly.

"No more talking, let your father enjoy his food in peace," my mom scolds, and I discreetly send Kevin a middle finger, pretending I am causally itching my face.

He picks up on it and laughs before grabbing his phone and getting lost in the gadget once again.

••

Finally finishing The Kissing Booth 2 and fawning over Noah, I blindly feel next to me for the remote, and when I don't feel the hard device next to me, I turn my head to see it far away on my nightstand.

Well, my nightstand isn't exactly far away but I am just way too lazy to reach for that right now.

Instead, I untangle my phone from my duvet, deciding to look up the lyrics to the song I was singing earlier. Kevin had managed to arouse my curiosity, just like always. The little weasel knows what to say to get a girl worked up.

I perch my sheet over my head, enjoying the darkness the thick quilt provides as I type in 'One More Try by George Michael Lyrics.' on goggle.

I chew on my lip while I wait for it to load up, inwardly cursing at how slow my Wi-Fi has been these days. Finally, the results pop up, and I click on the 'Genius Lyrics' option, eating my fingers while I wait yet again.

The lyrics outline on the screen after a few minutes and I coil my legs beneath me, reading some of the lines while I squint my eyes from the bright, blue light of the phone.

Let's see...

~So if you love me, say you love me. But if you don't just let me go..~

I blink my eyes. "Okay."

~So I don't want to learn to hold you, touch you...~

I narrow my eyes.

~When you were just a stranger and I was at your feet I didn't feel the danger, now I feel the heat. That look in your eyes telling me no. So you think that you love me, know that you need me. I wrote the song; I know it's wrong...~

"Okay, I get the point," I mutter, quickly clicking the home icon. "A very inappropriate song to sing I guess."

Now I feel awkward. I cringe, tugging the sheet from my head and placing my cell onto my bedside table. I lay onto my back, blinking up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling; a tad traumatized, I'd say.

Yeah, I definitely won't be singing that song ever again.

••

"Kelly, why do you need Mcdonald's and you just had breakfast?"

"Mom, it is essential. I have history second period and I can't bear going through the torture without a full stomach. Please?" I pout my lips with batting lashes, hugging her arm to aid in convincing her. "Pretty please?"

She sighs. "You're eating very unhealthily. I will use the drive-through."

"Yes! Thank you, ma'." I kiss her cheek, and she softly smiles, turning into the food court while I proceed to knot the olive-green plaid tie around my neck. God, I hate this uniform.

The girls at Camber High wear a pleated green and dark blue skirt with the same designed tie and white button-downs. The boys pretty much wear the same thing with trousers replacing the plaid skirt. The image may sound pleasant from description, but I can assure you that I am the perfect replica of a potato whenever I get dressed in the mornings.

I have a round face with slightly puffy cheeks and plump lips. My black hair is the definition of difficult because no matter how much time I wash and comb it, it tends to frizz back out as per its liking. I am not the most attractive, but I guess I wouldn't say I am ugly either, and besides, appearances and what is deemed as pretty and ugly are only opinions formulated by humans. How do we not know that the ones who are considered pretty are the ugly ones, and the ones who are considered ugly are actually the pretty ones? Woah. If I had used this sort of in-depth thinking in my academics then maybe I would not have been repeating the twelfth grade.

I order hotcakes with sausage and a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel with a large cup of hot coffee. I begin to eat the meal on the way to school and by the time my mom turns into Camber High, my stomach is loaded. The coffee would have to wait until I am settled, to avoid spilling it all over my mother's car. She worships the vanity and is very serious when it comes to getting sugary liquid all over her leather seats.

"Have a good day." She places a kiss to my cheek, and I smile as I climb out of the vehicle, balancing the coffee in one hand, my knapsack in the other, while I shut the door with my knee. She hoots her horn as she drives off and I turn away to cross the parking lot, frowning when I realize my tie has become loose again. I just can't tie this thing!

Paying attention to the tangled rope around my neck, I am giving no concentration to the path before me, and so I firmly bounce into someone, and the cup of coffee slips from my grip and spills all over them. I step back startled, my mouth hanging open as I stare at the large brown wetness spreading in their white dress shirt.

Upon first instinct, I lunge forward, using my palms to hysterically dry it. But I think I'm only making it worse. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

They sigh.

"I didn't see you, honestly, it wasn't my intention, I wasn't paying attention, and I didn't realize that I was —"

"Leave it, Kelly!"

That voice. Oh, no.

I look up, anxious, apologetic eyes meeting the cold, amber circles of my History teacher, slash, worst nightmare. Mr. Todd.

And what have I done to deserve this?

His jaws are clenched as he stares down at me, his eyebrows tightly clutched together as if the mere sight of me disgusts him. I can smell the fragrance of his perfume fusing with the faint scent of body wash, and he looks clean and fresh as if he just hopped straight from the shower.

"I am sorry," I whisper, my hands still pressed to his soaked torso. He drops his eyes to them, and I speedily pull away, almost stumbling on my own two feet.

He shuts his eyes. "What a way to start the morning. I just got here." And I can swear I just heard him curse an expletive indistinctly as he turns toward his car.

He opens the trunk of his BMW, and the fresh, cleanliness of the space doesn't strike me as a surprise. He's a clean freak and seems to be annoyed by the slightest imperfections. Maybe he has OCD.

Skeptically advancing toward him, I chew on my lip habitually. "I am genuinely sorry, what can I do to help?"

He doesn't offer me any form of an acknowledgment as he proceeds to unbutton his shirt, and I try again.

"Is there anything I can assist with, Mr. Todd?"

"How about," he swings his head to me irritated, loosening his slim, black tie. "Not talking? That'd work well for me."

I fold my lips as he pulls the blemished shirt off quickly, hissing when he sees that his white tank top got slightly stained as well.

He shuts his eyes and raises his head forward, and I sigh in remorse. This wasn't my intention at all, running into him as soon as I arrive at school was nowhere on my agenda. The fault in my darn lucky stars.

As if he had just uttered a silent prayer, he reopens his eyes and produces a soft breath. Unintentionally, my eyes sink to the strong muscles on his biceps, flexing effortlessly at every subtle move of his arm, and my face reddens for some odd reason. See, I have never actually seen a grown man up close with such little clothing before, only my dad or on Tv but those don't count. This is a foreign sight to behold. He's quite...muscular.

~And teacher there are things....~

I flash the song out of my head, cringing a little. Ew.

He reaches for a neatly ironed shirt hanging on a hanger in the trunk of his car, and I raise my brows impressed. Does he carry extra shirts around every day?

"You keep clothes in your car?" I pry as I dig into my pocket for the chocolate bar which I managed to steal from Kevin's room this morning whilst he was asleep. Mr. Todd turns his head to me, taking immediate notice of the candy in my hand, and he seems...displeased?

"Yes."

I crinkle my brows bewilderedly, ripping the wrapper with my teeth. "Why?"

"Because spots and dirt annoy me." He pushes his hand through an arm. "And so does that ridiculously knotted tie around your neck. Didn't they teach you how to tie that thing?"

I drop my eyes to it and shift my weight, embarrassed. "I haven't mastered it yet."

He sighs, fastening the neck button on his new, light blue shirt. "Kelly, you have been at the school for five years and you are telling me, you haven't mastered knotting your tie?"

I can do it, just not tightly. He sure has a way to make me feel small.

I open my mouth to defend myself when he speaks again.

"There are so many things you haven't mastered yet. Try not spilling your breakfast on other people for one."

I look down silently and he hitches the buttons on his wrist-sleeves then turns in a gesture to walk around his car. Seeing that I am standing in his path I promptly shift to the side, but he does at the same time, causing me to move in the opposite direction and he does too. He hisses and rolls his eyes.

"Little girl, just go that way."

I quickly step away from the car, and he curses under his breath instantly, grabbing my arm quickly and pulling me forward. I almost stumble into his chest as a car drives past close to my back, a strong surge of hot breeze sending my skirt flying sky high.

I frantically tug it down with wide eyes, and Mr. Todd pretends not to see as he steers his face in the opposite direction.

It's like my skirt likes to embarrass me whenever I am around this demon.

I look up at him bashfully and his eyes are still positioned away from me, respectfully I would suppose. He resembles a perfect statue as he towers above me easily. From this angle, his lips are unreasonably pink, an almost unnoticeable stubble lining his top one.

He sighs and lets my arm go, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Just go to class, Kelly. Please just go to class."

Gladly, I am beyond embarrassed.

I quickly turn away and hurry off without looking back. I've had too much humiliation to deal with between yesterday and today.