After that, I'm out of here.

Later that night, way after curfew I decide to sneak out of the school again and into the soccer field. It's midnight, everyone is surely asleep, even the person at the front desk. I slide past him making minimal noise as I slip through the front door of the school.

I walk over to the huge soccer field, and take a seat on the bleachers. I feel at ease in my shorts and t-shirt. It's great to finally be out of that damn uniform for once. The slight autumn breeze keeps me feeling calm as I think over my decision.

Last week I was ready to leave this school and never return. However, right now there's something keeping me here. I don't know what caused the attraction, maybe I really want to attend the Autumn Welcome. I should celebrate one time, maybe meet up with that kid who slapped me and show him a piece of my mind.

I should probably trash the whole dance and get expelled for it. Maybe I could invite my old friends over and ask them to bring some alcohol. These boring schoolgirls have been getting on my nerves, so why not?

Would that really get me expelled or just deeply punished? I'd die before bending over Mr. Howell's desk, not because of the pain but because of the awkwardness. He basically rejected me. He kissed me and then told me we should stop everything. I could see this from his point of view a bit, he's a teacher. This is wrong but I couldn't help wanting more.

I want some type of validation that he likes me and the only reason he ended what was happening is because it's wrong. That would cure my confusion.

My mind flickers back to what Maci said to me in the cafeteria. Did I like Mr. Howell? All my teachers had been women, or very unattractive men. I've never had a crush on a teacher before. It wouldn't lead up to a relationship without the police sending the teacher to jail.

I think I do like him.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. That's who's keeping me in this school, not Maci or the stupid dance. It's him.

But why?

Why Mr. Howell? Sure, he's attractive but that isn't the reason for my feelings. When I think of the reason why, my mind immediately thinks back to the kiss and nicknames. No one has ever called me such names and if I knew how good it makes me feel I'd make sure every boy would call me that.

No, only he can say it. I roll my eyes at my own thought. Why am I acting so weird? Maybe those bushes caused an allergic reaction in my brain, or maybe I like him.

I really like him.

"Any reason you are on the soccer field so late at night?" Mr. Howell's voice startles me.

What horrible timing.

I turn quickly and take in his appearance. He's wearing black jeans and a black shirt, his dark appearance is casual. It makes me bite my lip.

I stand quickly and he takes in my appearance as well. "What?"

I had completely forgotten what came out of his mouth. I guess my realization that I have feelings for him has gotten me confused. I hold back the urge to flirt with him. This is very complicated, I never held back my feelings before.

"Ms. Williams, it's way past your curfew. You should be in bed." He says.

Why does he have to be a teacher? He's so attractive, none of these younger boys could compare.

"It felt so lonely being in a bed all by myself." I respond with a sigh. Damn, that sounds a bit suggestive, why am I doing this?

"You should be used to that by now. It's been a week and a half." He responds with a small chuckle. If he noticed the suggestiveness in my sentence he doesn't show it.

"Maybe it's just tonight." I say in disappointment. Why couldn't I just grow up quickly and have him all to myself? I sit back down on the bleacher.

"Ms. Williams, you need to get back inside." He stands next to me as he says it.

"I hate it when you call me that." I ignore his demand.

"Call you what?" He questions.

"Ms. Williams. It sounds stupid and makes me feel old." I roll my eyes.

"You prefer your first name?" He takes a seat next to me on the ground.

"Yeah, but only when it comes out of your mouth. It sounds really nice when you say it." I admit. He looks at me with a small smile.

I need to stop.

"Oh really?" He asks in a teasing tone. I shove him slightly and he laughs.

"What's your first name anyways?" I curiously ask. Surely his friends don't calm him Mr. Howell or Sir, that would be really strange.

"I don't think you should know your teachers first name." He dismisses me. I pout slightly and he rolls his eyes. "But it's Dan."

"Dan..." I let the name roll off my tongue.

"So, what other things do you liked to be called?" He questions with a raised eyebrow.

The flirting is being reciprocated. My insides heat up and I stop holding back.

"I like darling and baby girl. It's gets me all hot and bothered." I casually say as if he is one of my friends back home. I look him, he bites his lip slightly.

"I'll be sure to let that slip." He comments.

"What do you liked to be called?" I switch it back to him. He sighs and looks me once over again.

"To be honest, I love being called Sir. Only when it coming from you of course." He admits with no shame.

"Now ask me a question, Sir." I demand with a slight laugh.

"Are we playing 21 questions or something?" He looks away from me. I desperately crave for him to look at me again.

"Yeah we are. How old are you?" I continue the game by grabbing his face and turning it to me.

"Twenty-six. How about you?" He fires back with a smirk as he brushes a piece of hair away from my face.

"Eighteen. Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I ask while putting my hand on top of his.

"Yes, but not in a very long time." He answers.

"How long?" I feel a bit jealous of this girl. I should find out if he's over that relationship.

I imagine him kissing a girl his own age, she isn't some schoolgirl that he tries to distance himself from. She probably has a job and does taxes and shit. I don't even know what mortgage is. I mentally make a note to google it later.

"Hey, it's my turn to ask." He points out breaking me from my thoughts.

"Fine." I reluctantly hold back my question. A short silence falls over us before he asks.

"Are you a virgin?"

I blush. "Sir, is that appropriate?"

"You don't answer a question with a question." He informs me as he rests his hand on my neck. He seems to be waiting for my answer before he makes any further movement.

"I'm not giving you that information." I flash a playful smile.

He gives me a blank stare. "Fair enough."

"Why did you break things off with me?" I curiously ask. His hand immediately drops from my neck and he distances himself. I internally slap myself for ruining the mood.

"This isn't right. You're my student, I shouldn't be doing this to you." He gets off the bleacher and I immediately follow his lead.

I grab his arm. "Don't."

"Ms. Williams..." He seems he wants to be serious, but he sighs. "Omera, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I grab his arm again as he tries to walk away.

"You don't understand. I'm your teacher, this shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't disrupt your education or get involved with you. Look at what's happened so far, you're skipping class, leaving school, and getting hurt. I shouldn't let that happen, I-" he tries explaining but I silence him.

"I didn't just start doing this. This is how I am. I break rules, get hurt, and constantly try to fix it. My parents don't want to deal with me anymore, they hate me, so they sent me here. To be honest, compared to the past I've been acting like an angel here." I angrily fight back.

"Ms. Williams-"

"There you go with that crap. Whatever, I would have been out of here if it weren't for you. First thing tomorrow, I'm leaving." I roll my eyes as I walk away from him. This time he grabs my shoulder.

"Listen, I want the best for you. You're still young, I don't know why you want to throw your life away like this." He sadly says. I turn back around and study him.

"My life is trash, I threw it away long ago." I run my fingers through my hair.

"That's not true. I...I really want to be with you but this isn't right. I feel like I'm going to ruin your life." He confesses, I grab his hands and intertwine our fingers. He looks down at our hands with hesitance but doesn't make a move to disconnect them.

"I don't care." I say hoping this would be enough to convince him but of course it isn't.

"You should care. You have a whole life ahead of you and I don't want to be the reason to stop you from living it." He disconnects our hands and leaves.

I don't stop him, it's hopeless.