I found my obsession to be utterly ridiculous and tiresome. I tried to ignore him and the way my chest exploded when I thought about not being able to have him. Sickness. All inspiring sickness. He gave us a pop quiz, and I failed it. I knew the information, but couldn't bring myself to strike correctly. My hand and pencil were an angry alliance.
He asked to see me after class while others gathered their belongings so they could trudge to fourth period.
At his desk, his beautiful fingers left red ink in their wake over and over again. Mr. Cullen pushed those thick frames onto his nose and held up my fortunate mistake. "You know this material. Can you tell me why you failed?"
My shoulders answer for me.
"Don't give me that, Miss Swan. We're so close to completing this year on a high note. I don't expect this from you. You're capable of doing better."
I nod. "Yes, sir." Those words coming out of my mouth. To him. My skin crawls with delight. I want to say it more.