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Angel With A Shotgun Pt. 1

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Uploaded by on Sep 7, 2011

I'm dating my teacher. It was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing, didn't take more than a day to realize we were in love with each other.
It didn't start out as love, more hate...
"Mr. Venn, I deserved an A, not that stupid D," I snapped at him.
"Miss Roland," he called me by my last name, which I hated. "Although you are the Deans daughter, that doesn't mean I can just give you an A, if you don't deserve it,"
He leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses, and wiping them on his tie. I paid closer attention to Mr. Venn, he was young, not much older than me. My dad said he was the youngest one there, twenty eight years old. His hair was a mahogany brown that matched his dark brown eyes. Mr. Venn was muscular, and once showed it when he was late to class and was wearing his workout clothes. All the women in the class had a crush on him, but I didn't, or so I thought.
"Mr. Venn, I do not think that at all!" I hated that people thought I got into this school because of my father, was it my fault my father worked at Harvard?
"Miss Roland, there is nothing I can do, but next time you need help, I can tutor you,"
"Fine," I grumble. "Can you tutor me tonight, it's my only free night,"
"What do you have other nights?" he inquired.
"I do have a job," I roll my eyes. "Are you going to help me or not?" I ask.
"I didn't know Da-" when he saw my glare he just stopped talking, and blushed a bit. It was cute. Wait! Did I really just think that!?
"My apartment in an hour," I gave him my address.
"See you then, Miss Roland," I leave his office.

I opened the door as I was about to leave for my run, and I see Mr. Venn.
"Shit, I forgot," I let him in.
"It's only been an hour, and you forgot," he laughs.
"Well, I have a busy life,"
"So do I, lets get started," he sits in front of my coffee table, and looks around my apartment while I get my bag.
"I know I don't live in the best place," I point out.
"I would have thought the Dean would've helped you out a bit,"
"He offered, I denied," I took out my English paper.
"Daddy's princess said no?" he raised an eyebrow.
I looked at him straight in the eye.
"My dad may as well be a dead beat dad, he thinks he can buy my affection. Which is why I try not to include him in my college life,"
"What did he do?" I sat next to him, and handed him my paper.
"Cheated on my mom, and left us, he only recently started talking to me when he saw I got accepted into to Harvard,"
"So you're actually smart," he chuckled.
"Excuse me?"
"I always thought you only got in because you of him,"
"Everyone does," it was silent.
"My parents left me at foster care when I was eight and they never came back," he said.
"I'm sorry," I started saying.
"I always told myself it was because they thought I wasn't enough for them," I sat up straighter, and looked at him. "Then I decided that I would prove them wrong. Graduated at sixteen, finished college at twenty and began teaching here two months later. Don't think you're the only one with something to prove,"
His eyes kept moving from my eyes to my lips.
"I never said I was," I whisper, and I find myself getting closer to him.
Maybe he wasn't too bad as I always thought. He was just like me, with something to prove, and we are going to prove it.
He seemed hesitant when he started leaning in.

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This video is a response to Writing Contest Round Two
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