Do Mine Eyes Deceive Me...A Gorgeous Sadistic Vampire?

"So, you guys know the plan, right?" I asked looking around at my teammates as we finished our huddle talk. Apparently, immortals didn't really do football. Most of them hadn't even heard of it. I wanted to ask them if they were all living under a rock, but I feared that might offend them. They're not used to having their knowledge questioned . . . ever.

Lancelot the wolf-boy was on my team. You can imagine what a joy that was. Thankfully, however, so was Rosco. His being a troll meant he was perfect girth for a full back. That left me as Quarterback, and the play maker. That was fine, though. I'd spent enough time with my dad cheering on the Greenbay Packers football team, watching NFL to know how to make up a good play with a bunch of guy who'd never played before.

Ah, that's right. They weren't all guys. Female Novice immortals were pussies. There, I said it. I would have thought that all immortals were totally abrasive of their strength, and would love getting down and dirty. Sure, the males were all like that. But every single female aside from my self either stood in front of the bleachers cheering, or justsitting laying on the bleachers, boredom dripping from their posture.

I yelled "Break," and we split before going to our rightful positions. I noticed the opposing team imitate this. They all had very smug looks on their faces, and I wasn't quite sure why. It was 3rd down, but I was the only one who'd even heard of the game before a few minutes ago. However, I guess I was also the newest immortal. I couldn't possibly imagine what they had up their sleeves.

Once everybody was ready, I whispered the word "Hike," and it echoed all throughout the gym at a surprising volume. The center hiked the ball back to me from in between his legs and I caught it lightly between my hands, pulling it up to my chest to protect it before looking for Lance. He was the running back I was supposed to hit it to, and Rosco was my blocker. I had confidence in both of them.

But I couldn't see Lance anywhere. I searched the face of every single player in the span of about half a second, and he wasn't anywhere to be seen on the playing field. I grunted before preparing my trek through the players. We hadn't planned on anyone else needing to be open, so I would have to run it in.

Then I was spun around from behind and thrown over a shoulder. I looked down to see the familiar back or sir Lancelot himself. He was attempting to weave through the players without the two of us getting tackled. And he was doing a fair job. But I wasn't about to let him take credit for this.

Therefore, with a sigh I grabbed onto his back and flipped myself over his shoulder so I was facing the opposite direction. Then I pushed off the floor with my hands and feet and leaped over his standing figure, before landing in the end zone on the tippy-toes of my right foot.

I turned around with a big grin on my face to see everyone just kinda staring at me. They didn't look super shocked or amazed, and they didn't look angry or upset. They were just kind of confused looking.

That's when I heard the clapping. I turned my head to see the Coach clapping madly and looking at me with this wild expression on her face. "Well done, America!"

"Erm, thanks?" Thankfully, the bell rang just then, saving myself from further uncertainty.

I rushed into the girls locker room, changing my clothes in peace. None of the other girls even bothered changing clothes because they never planned on participating so it was like my own private changing room, which was nice.

Now, which class do I have next?

Developmental Studies. Um, okay. I've never had that class before.

Regardless of another potentially interesting class, I made my way to the appropriate room, and realized I'd been here before. Looking down at my schedule, I saw that it said a certain Mr. C. Livend taught this class. Now, why did that name sound familiar? . . .

Oh, that's right. (please note sarcasm.) It was time for my re-encounter with the weird elf teacher. This really should be interesting.

"Class is started," Mr. Livend announced. Then, he was quiet for a while, and I was able to get a good look at him. His tall, confident posture of an immortal was only increased by his elvish nature, and his skin was so white and pure, it almost seemed to sparkle if he turned or moved a certain way. His short blond hair was surprisingly unkempt, and he wore the simple attire of loose jeans, tennis shoes, and a pale green button down, rolled up at the sleeves.

"Seeing as we have a new student, I'm going to go over the basics of Developmental Studies. The purpose of this class is to study different mortal jobs that any of you might wish to acquire if you wanted to be active in the mortal world. Is that easy enough to comprehend, Miss Rivers?" Mr. Livend asked, talking down to me. Frankly, I didn't appreciate it.

"I think I could handle that . . . considering I was mortal for the first 17 years of my life," I retorted through clenched teeth.

"As I supposed. Very well, then. Today, we'll be studying the art of massage therapy," he said stiffly.

"A masseuse or a masseur is a practical job choice for the mortal world?" I bit back a scoff.

"Who ever said this class was practical?" Mr. Livend asked, poorly hiding a smirk. "Now, get into partners, and I'll demonstrate to everyone the most useful techniques for eliminating stress from human bodies."

I looked around. The only ones in this class that had been in my first class were the girls who sat around doing nothing. They weren't exactly standing in line to be my partner, so it looked like I would have to wait and see whoever was left.

I didn't count on there being an odd number of students in this class. Henceforth, leaving me the only one without a partner, and also leaving Mr. Livend needing a guinea pig.

"Why, isn't this just the perfect opportunity for the new student to really get a feel of this class?" Mr. Livend asked the class. They all snickered in agreement. "Miss Rivers, if you would, please?"

I walked up to the front of class, not being able to disobey a teacher even with my immortality and newfound sense of dislike for this teacher. There were two chairs in the front of the class. He indicated for me to sit on one, facing the back of the chair. I did as I was told.

Mr. Livend sat in the one behind that, and began speaking. I tuned him in as his hands worked their way over my back muscles. Now, you'd think the foremost thing going through my mind would be that this has got to be some sort of sexual harassment. Apparently things were different at UPA. Nobody in the room was giggling or cracking perverted jokes about Mr. Livend and I. Actually, most of the people were moaning. It was obvious that immortals would really make quite fantastic massage therapists. I bit my lip as Cal kneaded through imaginary knots in my back.

I was not going to give him the satisfaction of uttering a sound. However, in all honesty, I was in pure ecstasy right now. I could have fallen asleep . . . if that were actually possible for me. This went on for the entire class period. I sat there with my fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut, and my teeth biting so hard into my lip that I was pretty sure there were two puncture holes in it.

It didn't make any sense to me how someone I was developing such unpleasant feelings toward could make me feel this way. His hands knew all the right places to rub into, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep these sounds to myself for much longer.

Then, thank the good Lord, the bell rang. I quickly sprang up from the seat and rushed back over to my original desk. I picked up my things and looked at my schedule. I had a free period before lunch. Thank God.

"Joan,' he said. Looking around, I realized everyone else had already exited the classroom. We were alone.

"You have free period next, am I correct?"

"If you don't mind me saying, why is that any of your business?" I replied coolly.

"Curious, that's all. I wanted to chat with you a bit, perhaps?" he answered.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea . . . Cal,' I said.

"Why not?" he asked stubbornly.

I took a deep breath. I was guessing that an immortal like Mr. Livend would be able to see right through any lie I would tell, so I had to tell the truth. I didn't see any way around it. "I'm not very comfortable around you."

He was then behind me, exhibiting some of his masseur techniques on my back once again. "Why is that?" he breathed.

"You're my teacher. I don't have feelings for you, Cal," I explained to him, clenching up my muscles like I did before.

He laughed. It was a breathy sound, cool against my neck. It made me shiver unpleasantly. "But here at UPA, Joan . . . there is no rule against student-teacher relationships."

My jaw dropped open. Did he just say what I think he said? I ran out of that classroom, all the way back to my dorm. I don't even know if I flew there, or transported there (if that's possible) or what. All I know was that I was back in my room within a matter of milliseconds.

'Harrison, you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.'

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