Pop Quiz

When I walk into English, I'm in such a good mood I'm practically bouncing.

This morning, we were standing in the car park before school, just like always, when Emmett accidentally skated into Rose.

I say accidentally. It was nothing of the sort. In fact, I watched the whole thing play out, and if Emmett's current career plan doesn't involve acting, he should re-evaluate.

He knocked her - barely - caught her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, then apologised profusely, used the excuse of checking to see if she was hurt to run his hands down her arms and her sides, then offered to carry her bag all day as a way of making it up to her.

She practically whimpered and he escorted her to class with the biggest smile I have ever seen on someone's face before. It's sickening, and adorable, and I'm envious.

Emmett smiles for Rose like it's the easiest thing in the world, and I can't even make Mr. Cullen's lips twitch.

I take out the apple that I've brought with me, and smirk at Mr. Cullen as I stop in front of his desk, sinking my teeth into the crisp skin, and then placing it on the wooden surface. He surveys me for a moment before going back to his book. He's reading Crime and Punishment, and the corners look so worn that he must have read it a thousand times.

I study the pages, all pristine, without the slightest dog ear, and understand instantly that he treasures this book, that it's special to him. Warmth flickers in my belly. It's one of the only books of that nature that I've actually read, and more than once. My dad is a big fan.

"Mr. Cullen," I say softly, placing my hand on the desk. I don't lean forwards, there's no cleavage to be seen today, but I am braless, and my nipples could cut glass.

He doesn't look up. "Yes?" He says disinterestedly.

"Man has it all in his hands, and it all slips through his fingers from sheer cowardice." I tell him, my words chosen carefully. It's not my favorite quotation from the book, but it's significant.

It says, don't be afraid; if you want me, I'm yours.

His head jerks up sharply, emerald eyes locking with mine. My body bursts into flames at the intensity in his gaze. For a beat we just stare at each other, then he looks back down. "Take your seat, Miss Swan."

I turn around and head to my desk, feeling dejected.

I've just sat down when he announces loudly, "We're doing a Pop Quiz. I'm putting them on your desks now, you have ten minutes."

There's a collective groan, including from me.

He hands out the papers, and when he goes to put mine on the desk, I take it from him, pulling it to just under my breasts and staring up at him under my eyelashes. His eyes slowly travel from the paper, up, past my breasts, my neck, my mouth, and finally meet mine, that enchanting green flickering a little before he lets go of it, turns and heads back to the front of the room.

"You may begin," he states, leaning against his desk, his large hands gripping it either side of his body as he stares at us, looking sullen. His position is dominating and distracting, and my eyes linger on the faint outline of his cock in his slacks, and the sliver of skin I can see at his throat.

I shift in my seat, biting on my lip as I stare down at the paper, he's given us. I'm not in the mood to answer this, and it doesn't count anyway. I decide to answer in a cheeky way, giving the right answer but without censoring myself.

How does Julia and Winston's relationship transcend the physical, despite it being rooted in carnal relations?

Despite Julia wanting to fuck Winston's brains out, every chance she gets, and vice versa, their relationship isn't just about sex. Julia represents temptation, rebellion, but also warmth, connection, a vis a vis of the mental sort. It's not just about release, or about fucking for the sake of it, it's an act of basic rebellion, and underneath, an act of desperation, humanity seeking humanity. In a physical sense, his cock is inside her, but mentally, the stimulation isn't sexual, it's a release of inner turmoil and the seeking of sanctification, unity and acceptance.

I hum, biting my pen, glancing up under my eyelashes to the front of the room. Mr. Cullen is sitting at his desk again, marking papers. I sigh breathily and his eyes suddenly dart up, meeting mine.

I suck my pen into my mouth and his eyes drift, like I'm nothing of importance, just another desk. My teeth clench on the plastic a little and I read the next question.

Did Winston love Julia? Explain your answer.

I think he did, deep down. I think that's why he couldn't bear to look at her, after he gave her up, after he knew she'd given him up too. She was a walking reminder of all the things he couldn't have, wrapped up in a pretty fucking sweet looking package. Individuality, sex, freedom, free will, pleasure, excitement, wonder. It's why he loved her, and why in the end, he couldn't love her. The loss of that love, at the end of the book, represents the breaking of his individuality. His capacity to love, to fuck was rooted in his sense of self. In the end, by giving into Big Brother, he lost that concept of 'self'; he became part of the collective. The love, and loss of Julia signifies Winston's loss of individuality, and more significantly, his agency.

After the 10 minutes are up, he takes our papers and sits back down again, telling us to review our essays that are due the following Wednesday. I don't bother taking out my laptop, I'd rather just watch him.

There's a tiny furrow between his eyebrows as he marks. My paper is at the bottom of the pile, he picked mine up last, so I watch him with bated breath to see what his reaction is.

He leans forward on his desk suddenly, then his head lifts, those intense green eyes finding mine. He tilts his head a miniscule amount and then looks back down, scribbling away.

His lack of reaction frustrates me, and I sulk for the rest of the class. When everyone packs up their things, I plot, wondering what I can do next.

I get up and just as I start to walk towards him, he picks up the apple on the desk and bites into it, the crisp snap of the flesh between his teeth almost shocking. As he takes the apple away from his mouth, I can see he's bitten right where I bit, replacing my teeth marks with his, leaving a missing chunk with sharply curved edges, that bright red now marred by silvery white.

I stumble in surprise and he studies me for half a second, before he starts chewing on the apple in his mouth, his eyes dropping back to the papers in front of him again.

If this was happening in one of the stories we studied in class, I could say it was symbolic, him biting the apple I placed on his desk, especially because he's never sunk his teeth into anyone else's. I could talk about the biblical allusions, about Eve and the idea of temptation, about sin and tasting the forbidden. I could talk about how it means he desires me, just as I desire him.

But this isn't one of Mr. Cullen's books, and he's just as unaffected as ever.

For now.

Fun fact: I actually did this once, for an exam, though it wasn't English and I didn't have a hot teacher *sighs* probably for the best though...

Thank you for all the love so far, you guys are awesome. There'll be a teaser in the FB group for tomorrow's chapter + a song that goes perfectly - so come find us at creaaatingmadness on FB.

More tomorrow ❤️