CH10

When Azalea woke up the next morning, the quiet felt strange—almost unsettling. There was no yelling, no sudden hits to the face with a pillow, no annoying alarms blaring in her ear. And, maybe the most obvious thing missing... no Jackson. It felt weird not having him around, and her mind couldn't help but wander back to the painfully quiet ride to the dorm.

That drive had been so awkward it almost didn't feel real. Neither of them had said a single word the entire time. No jokes, no teasing—just silence. When they finally got back, it didn't get any better. Azalea had been the first to jump out of the car, desperate to escape the suffocating tension. Jackson, on the other hand, stayed behind for a few minutes before coming in. He hadn't followed her or tried to talk about what happened, and honestly, she didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed. Either way, they both seemed to agree to just leave it there.

Now, here she was, sitting in class, her head swirling with thoughts about last night. She couldn't shake the feeling that things were different, that something between them had shifted.

And then, of course, there was the fact that she was late again—an hour late this time. Jackson hadn't bothered to wake her up, and that hit differently. Usually, he'd be throwing a pillow at her or dragging her out of bed, teasing her about being a sloth or something. But not this morning. It was like he didn't even care anymore, and honestly, she kind of understood why. After what happened last night, maybe he just didn't want to deal with her. She hated how that made her feel, but at the same time, she couldn't really blame him.

Azalea sighed, staring at Thompson as he paced back and forth. She couldn't process what it was he was talking about since she toned out his words the moment she came to class.

She just couldn't get Jackson out of her mind no matter how much she tried. And the kiss they shared last night. She closed her eyes, taking in a sharp breath.

The way he stared at her lips, like he'd been dying to kiss her, like he'd waited forever for that one moment. His scent still lingered in her memory, intoxicating and impossible to ignore—pulling her closer like the mouthwatering aroma of cherry pie cooling by a kitchen window on a hot summer day. And then there was his tongue...

So sweet, so warm, and completely, utterly breathtaking.

Azalea quickly shook the thought away, her cheeks burning as she wiped her mouth, as if she could erase the kiss still lingering on her lips. What was she thinking, letting herself get caught up in Jackson, the school's infamous manwhore? She should've been smarter than that.

But... as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't regret it. Not one bit.

"Fuck me." She groans aloud.

"Excuse me?"

Azalea blinked, snapping out of her thoughts when she realized someone was standing in front of her. It was Thompson. She froze for a moment, noticing the faint smile playing on his lips before her eyes darted around the room. That's when it hit her—the room was empty.

"Oh crap," she muttered under her breath. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was talking out loud," she quickly blurted, her cheeks heating up.

Thompson chuckled softly, his footsteps echoing as he strode back to his desk. Azalea scrambled to close her notebook and shove her things into her bag, feeling entirely too exposed.

"This is the second time you've shown up late to my class," he said, his voice calm but firm.

Azalea tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, forcing a dry chuckle. "My alarm kind of... stopped working," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"And it's also the second time you've completely tuned out my teaching," he added.

Her head shot up, eyes meeting his. There was something about the way he said it—matter-of-fact, yet oddly personal. Thompson took a slow sip of his coffee, not breaking their gaze, and then set the cup down with deliberate care. Azalea's eyes followed the movement, catching the subtle curve of his dimple as he pressed his lips together in thought.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, focusing on zipping up her bag like her life depended on it.

"Um...sorry about that. Just have a lot on my mind right now."

"Well, I don't wish to invade since I'm your professor, but I hope it's not that kid you showed me yesterday, his energy was a bit...aggressive." Thompson took his seat at his desk and grabbed a pen. Azalea snorted, her brows scrunching a bit.

"Really? I don't think so, bothered maybe, but not aggressive." She calmly defends. Thompson rose his brows before they fell back into place.

"Well, if you need any form of protection from the guys in this school, let me know."

She grins. "I'll make sure I do that."

"I'm serious Ms. Moore, you have prepossessing features, and I care about the safety of my students. The young, horny males roaming the corridors might see you as an easy target. Be careful always, okay?"

There was a bit of a pause before she nodded. "Thank you, professor." He nods and places his attention to the papers in front of him. Azalea made her way to leave and caught Thompson taking one last glance at her as she left.

He smiled and Azie returned it. When she left the room her smile dropped instantly.

"Get it together Azie."

Jackson shot to his feet, his glare fixed on Thompson. "Stop talking to her," he demanded, his voice sharp and cutting through the room.

Thompson barely flinched. At the sound of his son's voice, he glanced up from his desk, his calm blue eyes meeting Jackson's fiery stare. He let out a slow, deliberate exhale. "She's a student of mine, Jackson. Words will inevitably be exchanged. And might I suggest you stop sneaking into my classroom?"

"Fuck you," Jackson hissed, his voice laced with venom.

Thompson set his pen down with an exaggerated sense of calm, folding his hands on the desk as he gave Jackson his undivided attention. "What is it that you want, Jackson? I'm dead to you, remember?"

"I don't want you talking to her," Jackson shot back, his fists clenching at his sides.

Thompson raised an eyebrow, his expression cool and unreadable. "Well, she's my student," he replied, his voice steady but pointed. "I don't see how your request is remotely possible."

Jackson didn't bother holding back his frustration, storming down the row of chairs and stopping right in front of his father's desk. His jaw was tight, and his anger radiated in waves as he glared down at Thompson.

"I saw the way you looked at her."

Thompson sat back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Jackson, I know you hate me because of your childhood or whatever, but don't be delusional."

Jackson clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together. As he shot daggers at the man sitting on the other side of the desk, he couldn't help the anger growing inside of him.

Thompson noticed this, the clenching and unclenching of Jackson's fists, his minor shaking due to his anger, his heavy but short puffs of breath.

He hates bickering with the boy, and to be honest, he's tired of it. But if Jackson wants to act like his life is still falling apart even after he allowed him to do what he wanted, then so be it.

"You can head to your next class now." Thompson finally says. Jackson reached over and grabbed his father by the tie.

"You don't fucking tell me what to do anymore." He grits out. Still, the boy glared and Thompson noticed surface tears.

"Well I just did. Now go on...don't want to be late."

Jackson released the man and stormed out of the room. When he left, Thompson sighed and fixed his tie, continuing his work.

Jackson headed to his next class, his steps heavy and deliberate. He was still simmering with frustration, but he knew he couldn't walk in with the storm cloud hovering over him. He had to pull himself together, especially since he'd be seeing Azie soon.

Just thinking about her was enough to take the edge off. As he strolled across the grassy campus, the cool breeze brushing past him, his thoughts drifted back to their kiss.

Kissing her was something he had dreamed of for longer than he cared to admit. But he never imagined it would happen like it did. The memory of it was enough to send his heart racing all over again. It had been perfect—unexpected but perfect. No interruptions, no noise, just the two of them. Quiet, warm, sweet, and utterly intoxicating.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm. Jackson exhaled deeply, his lips curving into a small, almost sheepish smile.

He wanted more. He wanted to kiss her again, to feel her in his arms, to breathe her in. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't just about the kiss—it was her, all of her. And that scared him almost as much as it thrilled him.

Jackson shook his head and kissed his teeth. "Why'd you have to kiss me back, Azie?"

Jackson reached his class about five minutes later, adjusting his posture and clearing his throat as he stepped inside. A small smirk played on his lips, his mood still light from thoughts of Azalea. His eyes naturally drifted to where he expected her to be seated.

But the smirk disappeared the moment he spotted her on the opposite side of the room, talking and laughing with Tony.

The sight made his chest tighten. It was only when Tony caught sight of him that Azalea seemed to notice his presence. Her laughter faded, her gaze following Tony's to meet Jackson's.

Her smile dropped the instant their eyes locked.

Jackson looked away quickly, his jaw tightening as he strode to his seat, alone, on the other side of the room.

"Now, before we dive into today's lesson, I want everyone to know there's a test tomorrow," Mr. Magwell's voice filled the room, cutting through the tension Jackson was trying to swallow. "So please, pay attention and study."

A collective groan echoed from some of the students, but Magwell wasn't fazed. He clapped his

hands together, his enthusiasm contrasting sharply with Jackson's mood.

"Alright, let's get into it, shall we?"