Only You

Joey’s heart pounded as he stared at Miss Matthews. The air in the room felt thick, almost buzzing with something he couldn’t quite place. A second ago, he had been trying to swallow his anger, reeling from the news that he wouldn't be graduating from high school. Now, as if someone had flipped a switch, his teacher had completely changed course. Everything felt sideways.

She had just apologized to him. Miss Matthews, the stern, red-haired disciplinarian with the unshakable rules and sharp eyes that could pierce through excuses like arrows, had apologized. To him! She had taken his failed test, scratched out the red F as if it had never existed, and replaced it with an A, completely ignoring the fact that Joey had in no way passed the test. Not just a passing grade, an A!

His brain couldn’t make sense of it.

“What... what?!” The word slipped out before he could stop himself.

Miss Matthews smiled at him, a soft, kind smile he had never seen before. Her eyes, usually so cold and calculating, looked at him with warmth and something else. Fondness? Joey couldn't make himself believe it. Something was up. She folded her hands neatly on her desk and tilted her head, as if she were waiting for him to relax.

“I said,” her voice was calm, slow, as though explaining a simple truth, “and I meant, you were right. I’ve been far too hard on you, Joey. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you so harshly. That’s not what a teacher is supposed to do.”

Joey blinked, his mind racing. Something about this felt... off. He wasn’t stupid, no matter what his grades said, and he knew Miss Matthews didn’t act like this. Ever. The last time he had tried to explain why he hadn’t turned in an essay, she had cut him off with a sharp, “Excuses don’t change outcomes, Mr. Granger.” She didn’t apologize. She didn’t change her mind.

But here she was, looking at him like... like he mattered.

“I... um...,” he started, but the words tangled up in his throat.

Miss Matthews stood up slowly. She walked around the side of the desk, her steps measured and deliberate, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Joey’s eyes flicked downward as she moved, noting the sway of her hips in her fitted skirt, a dangerous place to put his gaze. He had seen more than one male student face the ire of his history teacher when she noticed them staring at her body. His cheeks flushed hot, and he **** himself to look away, focusing on the bulletin board behind her desk, hoping that she hadn't noticed.

But no outburst came. Instead, placed herself between him and the desk, casually leaning back against the desk, staring up into his face. Her perfume, something subtle, floral, reached his senses, making his pulse quicken. Had he ever been this close to her before? Had he ever been this close to any woman he found attractive? He could feel his teenage penis twitch in his pants, making his heart race faster.

Control yourself! he screamed in his thoughts. The last thing he needed was to get an erection and have his teacher see it.

“It’s my job," she said sweetly, "to help you believe in yourself. To build you up, not tear you down.”

“O-okay,” he mumbled, feeling less certain about where the conversation was going by the minute.

Her eyes searched his face, her expression softening even further. “You’re smarter than you think, Joey. You have so much potential. I’ve just been too blind to see it.”

What was this?! She was complimenting him now? Miss Matthews, the woman who had just called him lazy, who said he wasn’t ready to graduate, suddenly she was wrong, and now she was admitting it? No teacher did that.

“Listen, I admit that I should have studied more,” Joey said, feeling like he was starting to see through some complicated ruse his teacher was laying out, "It was my birthday and some of my friends wanted to..."

"Of course you wanted to go out for your birthday," she said with a laugh, "You turned eighteen, if I remember correctly. Going out on your eighteenth birthday is practically a rite of passage! Part of becoming a man! How can I hold that against you?"

"But I failed..."

"Stop," she said with another laugh, not mean or predatory, but warm and playful, "You don't have to be so nervous," she lifted her hand and placed it on Joey's shoulder, the warmth of her palm seeping through his t-shirt. His whole body stiffened.

What is happening?

Her touch lingered. “I believe in you,” she let the words slowly drip off her tongue, to make sure that he internalized them, "There will be no record of any failure on your part in my class. From now on I won't be holding you back, I'll be helping you succeed. You're going to do great things."

Joey swallowed hard. The heat of her pale hand, the arousing lilt in her words, it was all too much. Whatever was happening here, it felt dangerous. And yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if it was true. She seemed so committed, not a hint of sarcasm.

He **** himself to speak. “You’re, um… you’re really serious about this? About… helping me?”

Miss Matthews' smile widened, and something flickered in her eyes, something that looked like excitement. She nodded slowly. “Of course I am. You deserve it.”

Joey’s chest tightened. His voice dropped, “What's with the big change? Why do you want to help your students so much all of a sudden?”

She tilted her head, her brow furrowing as if the question confused her. “Students?” Her lips curved into a tender, playful smile as if she had a joyful realization, her eyes fixed on his. “No, I never said anything about students. You, Joey. Only you.”