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When I finally saw the lights of the fair I raised my eyebrows, slightly impressed. I wouldn’t have ever been able to find my way out of the forest. Mr. Heywood seemingly knew these woods by the back of his hand. He even told me where there were dips on the ground so I wouldn’t trip. While the lights distracted me, my foot got tangled in a root, and I plummeted to the ground face first. My already pounding head smashed against the hard ground, causing my vision to go black for a few seconds. Surprised, I tried blinking a few times, trying to regain my vision.

“Are you okay?” a slightly amused voice asked from above me.

“I can’t see!” I cried, scrambling to push myself to my feet.

A strong pair of hands suddenly wrapped around my waist and I was pulled to my feet before I could protest. Shakily, I reached out to find something to support me. One of the hands on my waist disappeared, and seconds later something warm enveloped my outstretched hand.

“Stand still,” Mr. Heywood ordered in a soothing voice. “You’re vision will come back in a second.”

I did as he commanded, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. With my eyes shut, I concentrated on my breathing for a few minutes, and when I opened them again, I could see. Dizziness swept over me, and I staggered a little. The hand on my waist quickly became an arm wrapped around it.

My cheeks blazed from the gesture. “Let me go,” I said, trying to escape from his hold.

“No,” Mr. Heywood ordered. “You’ll end up killing yourself.”

“Let go!” I reiterated.

I was very aware of his arm wrapped around my waist. Too aware. My body was growing hotter by the second. I avoided looking at his face as I continued to struggle to break out of his grasp. He was my teacher. I shouldn’t be blushing because he had an arm around my waist. Albeit he was a young, and very handsome, teacher, he was still a teacher. It was wrong. And yet here his touch was embarrassing me. I liked his touch.

“If you don’t stop struggling, I’ll have no choice but to carry you,” he warned, holding onto me tighter.

I ground my teeth together, and tried again to yank myself free once more. I couldn’t flat out tell him what he was doing to me. That would be incredibly awkward and uncomfortable. But I wasn’t used to guys touching me, so maybe that was it. It wasn’t just because Mr. Heywood was the one with his arm wrapped around me. I tried once more to pull myself away, but only ended up tripping over my own feet.

Mr. Heywood sighed and put his other hand on my waist again. “You asked for it.” Suddenly I was hoisted up in the air and over his shoulder. I opened my mouth in shock, but nothing came out. He adjusted me slightly and placed a hand just above my bottom. Blood rushed to my face and I tried to get away again.

“Don’t move or you’ll fall, and I’m not sure how much more damage you can take to your head without dying.”

I stopped moving. I didn’t really want to take that chance. Mr. Heywood started walking again, and I bounced with his each stride. He didn’t even seem affected by taking on an extra hundred and ten pounds.

“Aren’t I heavy?” I asked in a quiet, embarrassed voice.

He snorted. “Yes, you are.”

I kicked my feet, hoping to land a strike on his face. He chuckled and readjusted me on his shoulder. “I’m joking.”

“It wasn’t funny,” I responded, bringing my hand down to slap him. Right before my hit landed, I stopped my hand, realizing I was just about so smack his butt. A small breath of relief left my lips. How awkward would that have been? Stretching my arm lower, I began to pound my fist in the lowest part of his leg that I could reach. It didn’t even affect him. He just chuckled again. Scowling, I hit him harder and repeatedly, which only made him laugh more.

“Two can play at that,” he let me know, amusement in his tone.

I paused for a second, confused, until I felt a slap to my butt. For a second I was shocked speechless, my face growing warm. I opened my mouth in outrage and but couldn’t say anything coherent. “Why did you smack my butt?” I finally demanded, still blushing furiously.

“Easiest place to reach.”

I struggled against him now, trying my best to be let go. I didn’t care if I fell on my face at this point as long as I got away from this perverted teacher. He started chuckling, again, and placed his free hand on my waist, hoisting me off his shoulder, and onto the ground. I took a step away from him and glared at him. “You didn’t have to slap my butt!”

Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. “What? Should I have waited and smacked your head?”

“No! You shouldn’t hit me!”

“You were hitting me,” he responded in a mockingly whiny voice.

“But I didn’t hit your butt!”

“You were thinking it.”

My face grew even hotter, if that was possible. Mr. Heywood smirked. I shook my head vehemently at him. “I wasn’t!”

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay. I can tell when you’re lying. You’re really bad at it.”

I scowled at him. How could he read me so easily? I stared at the ground in embarrassment. My eyes were starting to burn and I blinked rapidly to stop my eyes from watering. Why did he always embarrass me? It was seriously unfair.

Mr. Heywood sighed. “You really have zero experience with guys, huh?”

I glared at him. “So what? I’m sorry I can’t help it if guys don’t like me! I’m sorry I’m not used to guys touching me! I’m sorry I’m not popular and pretty, Mr. Heywood! If you want to go talk to popular and pretty girls, actually let them into your classroom at school instead of hiding from them! I bet they would do all kinds of things with you!”

Mr. Heywood looked at me in surprise. I breathed heavily from my sudden outburst. When my anger died down, newfound embarrassment made my face burn once more. Mr. Heywood just continued to stare at me, almost in awe. I looked away when I felt tears welling up again. Sometimes I wished my tear ducts weren’t triggered by my embarrassment and anger. I tried to discreetly wipe away the few tears that were escaping. It didn’t really work.

What was my problem? There was no reason for me to get all worked up. And I knew I had taken my outburst too far. I didn’t know why I even mentioned crap about the girls at school. Mr. Heywood probably thought I was immature now. I grit my teeth together in frustration. Maybe I was PMS-ing.

A gentle hand was at my cheek and it turned my head to the left slightly. Mr. Heywood used his other hand to wipe away a stray tear. I attempted to look away, but he held my head fast.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, sounding very sincere.

My mind went blank for a second. Mr. Heywood was apologizing to me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I was the one who had blown up with him. I opened my mouth to say something but he shook his head.

“I’m not done,” he told me, so I shut my mouth. “I really didn’t mean anything offensive by what I said. I keep forgetting you’re Holly Evers, my student, which is my fault. But I can’t help but to tease you when you have such cute reactions.”

I would’ve have blushed if my face wasn’t already as red as a tomato. What did he mean by how he kept forgetting I was his student? Did that mean he…? I shook my head quickly. He definitely did not mean what I was thinking. I was getting way to ahead of myself.

Mr. Heywood let out a quiet chuckle, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He shook his head, smirking. “Where in the world did you get the idea that I wanted to do ‘all kinds of stuff’ with pretty and popular girls?”

I swallowed nervously and pursed my lips, my face still in Mr. Heywood’s firm grasp. “Well… I just figured since you’re young and single you might, you know, want to have… have some fun?”

Mr. Heywood snorted and started laughing so hard he let go of my face and doubled over. I stood awkwardly, watching as he began to gasp for breath from laughing so hard. “You know that’s illegal, right?” he asked when he was finally finished.

“Yeah,” I responded. “But that hasn’t stopped other people… and since you’re a gangster and all, I thought it doesn’t matter.”

“Ex-gangster,” he reminded me with a frown. “And I wouldn’t have an affair with a student. I’m a teacher, Holly. That would be extremely wrong and I would lose my job if I were ever caught. I might even—” He suddenly cut himself off, a surprised expression on his face. “I might even go to jail…”

For some reason, my chest ached. I shrugged it off though. It wasn’t like I was planning to be in a relationship with this man. He was a perverted, spiteful, annoying, teacher. Who happened to also be an ex-gangster. The consequences of a relationship like that were too severe too. It wasn’t worth it.

“But I have to say,” he mused, putting on a smug smile once again. “I don’t usually go for the pretty and popular girls.”

“What kind of girls do you go for?” I blurted out without thinking. Immediately I ducked my head, my cheeks flaming again.

Mr. Heywood opened his mouth to respond, but shut it quickly. For a split-second I thought there was an expression of pain on his face, but before I could be sure, it was gone. He glanced at me and smirked. “Well, I go for the kind that don’t have a lot of experience. They are the cutest, you know. Now, shall we go?

He walked by me, his shoulder just barely brushing by mine. I stared after him for a moment, his last words echoing in my mind. What did he mean by that? Was he insinuating something? I shook my head violently. It meant nothing. He was just teasing me like usual.

I hurried to catch up with him, my dizziness completely gone now. We were behind the rides now. I made sure to step over all the cables, being extra cautious not to trip. When I caught up to him he looked at me from the corner of his eye, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You know you look like hell, right?”

I gave him a wry smile. “Thanks.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a comb in my bag.”

I raised my eyebrows slightly. Even I didn’t carry around a comb in my bag. “You have a comb?”

“I need to look good in front of the ladies, right?”

I rolled my eyes and attempted to push past him but he stopped me, grabbing the back of my shirt. After releasing me, he dug into bag for a few seconds and pulled out the comb. With a finger he gestured for me to move closer to him. I did so, and held out my hand for the comb. He smirked, pulling the comb out of my reach. “I’m doing your hair for you.”

“No you’re not,” I responded quickly. “No way.” I attempted to back away but his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder, pulling me closer again. I sighed. It wasn’t even worth bothering to even try and escape his grasp.

“Keep your head still,” he ordered.

“Yes sir.”

His hand ran through my hair, getting out the largest tangles. I stood restlessly, letting him have his way. I had to admit, he could get out snarls without it hurting me the slightest bit. He ran the comb through my hair now, getting out the rest of the snarls. When he was finished, I ran a hand over my head. Not a single knot.

“You wouldn’t have been able to get out the ones in the back of your hair if you did it,” he told me, putting the comb away.

“That’s true.”

“Now,” Mr. Heywood said with a serious face. “Do you want me to drive you home now? I think you’ve had enough fun for a night.”

I faked a laugh. “Yeah, fun.”

Mr. Heywood grinned. “Well at least I had fun. And I’m ready to go home too, so it’s no trouble.”

I frowned slightly. I did want to go home. But I really wanted to go on the Farris wheel. I looked at Mr. Heywood pleadingly.

“You want something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to go on the Ferris wheel before we leave,” I told him, adverting my gaze to the ground. “Do you… um, want to come with me?”

I didn’t have to look up to know he was smirking.

“Of course. I can take the time on it to explain a few things to you as well, since you’ll now be caught up in some of my problems.”

I looked up at him again, giving him a questioning look. What problems did he have? When he noticed my look he gave a half shrug. “I said I’d explain on the Ferris wheel.”

“Okay.”