The school gate loomed ahead like the final boss in a video game. That I cannot pass without permission. And Mr. Wright holds that authority!I stood there, arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t nervously waiting for him. And then, like clockwork, he appeared just on time.Let’s talk about Mr. Wright for a second—the criminally handsome man whose mere existence in a button-down, rolled-sleeves shirt should come with a warning label. Today’s choice was a black shirt, sleeves pushed up just enough to show forearms that could probably sell luxury watches, and the top three buttons were casually undone. Like, sir, is it your mission to cause heart palpitations? His tan skin practically glowed, his hair was the perfect level of tousled, and that smile?That should be illegal.For a moment, I genuinely forgot how to breathe. Then my brain rudely reminded me, He’s your teacher, Alina. Snap out of it.But honestly, how was anyone supposed to focus when faced with a man who looked like he’d jus
The boat was tiny and wobbly, and getting in without falling over was a small miracle. I sat stiffly on one end while Mr. Wright started rowing, his sleeves pushed up higher, revealing arms that should honestly be illegal. I tried not to stare, but it was very difficult when the alternative was looking at the water and imagining myself falling in.I am getting goosebumps just by imagining it.“Relax,” he said, his voice calm. “You’re safe.”“Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “You’re not the one who feels like a human seesaw.”He laughed again, and this time it was loud enough to echo across the water. “I didn’t realize you were so dramatic.”“Dramatic? Oh please…” I splashed a little water his way with my hand. “Says the guy who probably practices brooding in the mirror.”He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Brooding?”“Yes. Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean. It’s all ‘look at me, I’m mysterious and wear rolled-up sleeves and break hearts by accident.’”What are you even say
Just as I was starting to relax, he nudged my shoulder with his, catching me off guard. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Thanks for dragging me out here. It’s... better than what I planned!”For a second, I forgot how to speak. Then I managed a half-smile. “You’re welcome.”The moment stretched, filled with an unspoken something I couldn’t quite name. And as I looked out at the water, I couldn’t help but think that this was one of those days I’d remember. Even if I didn’t fully understand why.After some quiet moment, where we both just sat there like a pair of lovers… no no no… better say awkward peoples—me trying not to hyperventilate because my teacher was literally sitting too close for comfort—Mr. Wright finally broke the silence."Hey," he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "Are you hungry? Let’s grab a bite before we head back. It’s almost 3 PM. What say? I blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I’m starving," I admitted, realizing I hadn’t eaten anythin
The afternoon passed in a blur of easy conversation, laced with teasing that felt strangely... comfortable. Naturally, Ethan became the topic of conversation—because, of course, he was the one thing tying us together in this weird, twisted narrative.“I’m still baffled you voluntarily hang out with Ethan,” I said, sitting cross-legged on the sand. “Like, you choose that chaos. Are you okay?” Mr. Wright grinned, leaning back on his elbows. The sunlight bounced off his absurdly perfect hair, which—let’s be real—was so effortlessly tousled it had to be intentional. “Ethan’s not chaos. He’s...Ah…lively.”“Lively?” I snorted. “That’s an understatement. Are we talking about the same guy who thought it was hilarious to fill my shoes with mayonnaise? It squelched. Squelched, Mr. Wright.” Mr. Wright laughed, low and warm, leaning back on his elbows. “You make it sound like I signed up for a prison sentence. Ethan’s a good guy. A bit... colorful, sure, but solid.”“Colorful? That’s generous
Mr. Wright’s POVThe sun dipped toward the horizon, casting the river in amber light. I watched her from where I sat on the bank, her silhouette a study in contradictions—lightness and weight, confidence and something… else. Something quieter.Alina moved through the water as if it had called her, her steps deliberate but unthinking, her gaze lost to the distance. She didn’t notice how the hem of her jeans clung to her ankles or how the current swirled playfully around her feet. There was a stillness to her that didn’t belong in someone like her—a girl of fire and sharp edges.And then I saw it.Tears.They slid down her cheeks, catching the waning sunlight. The sight rooted me in place for a breath too long before instinct pulled me forward.I rose without a second thought.“Alina.” Her name left my lips as a question, barely above a whisper.She didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.I moved to her side, careful not to crowd her. “Are you hurt?” I kept my voice low, steady. A touch of calm for
He led me to a quieter spot, away from the noise of splashing teenagers, lovely couples wrapped in each other like human pretzels and the too-happy laughter of families.The sand was cool, soft, and the river murmured in the background—a soothing rhythm that did nothing to calm the chaos in my heart.I sat down heavily, cross-legged, wrapping my arms around myself like I could physically hold all my feelings in.I tried. Believe me! I tried my best…Mr. Wright crouched beside me, his eyes steady and too focused, the kind of look that made you want to squirm because it felt like he could see right through you.“Why were you crying?” he asked again, his voice calm, low, like he had all the patience in the world.I sighed. “It’s nothing.”His brow lifted. Just one. It was enough to say, Really? You expect me to believe that?I picked up a handful of sand and let it sift through my fingers. “I’m serious. Nothing happened!”“Hmm.” He watched the last grains fall. “Nothing happened. Got it
How can my day end without drama? It’s practically my trademark. And I mean it! Sitting by the river, the darkness wrapped around us like a thick, cold blanket. I felt the peacefulness that only comes when the world goes quiet.The moon was doing its thing—glowing all ethereal and poetic, as if it had some exclusive VIP invitation to this very moment. And then, bam! It started raining. Not just a drizzle, mind you. It was a torrential, sky-is-falling, Noah’s-ark-level downpour.My jaw literally dropped. The audacity of the weather! I mean, I checked the forecast before coming, and there was not a single rain emoji in sight. Not a single one! Thanks for nothing, meteorologists. You had only one job.It’s not like I hate rain. On the contrary, I love it. I love the way it feels against my skin, the way it smells like fresh beginnings, the way it lets me live my main character fantasy for a hot second. But I didn’t have time to process any of that because suddenly, out of nowhere,
The rain felt glorious. A perfect combination of wild freedom and cool bliss, making the chaos of my life momentarily slip away. I laughed with my arms wide open like a lunatic, twirling like the universe’s most dramatic ballerina in this impromptu rainstorm. Water streamed down my face, my hair sticking to my skin in messy, rebellious strands. For a fleeting second, I felt infinite.And then Mr. Wright looked at me—I mean, really looked at me. I noticed his gaze lingering on me a little longer than usual... not in a creepy way, though! At first, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. His gaze was normal. Stern but amused, like a teacher watching a kid playing with water, who’s way too immature. His eyes held that same calm, thoughtful demeanor he always carried — the type that could disarm a riot with a single glance. But then… his gaze lowered.From my face...To my neck…To my—OH SWEET HOLY MOTHER OF ALL THINGS…EMBARRASSING...TOO EMBARRASSING…I followed his line of si
Silence is a crueler punishment than words.I’d rather he yelled at me, scolded me, told me I was a reckless, impulsive girl who didn’t know what she was playing with. I’d rather he looked at me with disgust, with regret—hell, even with anger.But he gave me nothing.Not a glance.Not a word.Not even the barest acknowledgment that I existed.Cristiano Wright had vanished.Not literally, of course. He was still here, in the same classroom, standing at the same podium, his deep voice filling the space with lectures about history that I wasn’t listening to.But he wasn’t here.Not for me.And it was driving me fucking insane.It started the moment I walked into class.His eyes skimmed over the room, pausing on every student but me.I sat in my usual seat, watching him, waiting for the subtle smirk, the flicker of emotion, the challenge in his gaze that always made my pulse quicken.Nothing.He didn’t look at me once.“Alright, let’s continue where we left off yesterday,” he said, voice
The kiss was wildfire—devouring, insatiable, reckless. Cristiano’s hands gripped my waist, not forcefully, but with the kind of desperation that made my pulse stutter. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was raw and filled with something neither of us dared name.I knew this was wrong. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to stop, to pull away, to regain the control that had already slipped through my fingers. But how could I, when his lips moved against mine like he was memorizing me?His hands skimmed the fabric of my blouse, fingers flexing like he was trying to ground himself, to hold back. But I didn’t want him to hold back.I deepened the kiss, pressing closer, feeling the hard lines of his body, the way his breath hitched. My hands tangled in his hair—so soft, so inviting, so maddeningly perfect—and a shudder ran through him.But then, like a snapped thread, everything shattered.Cristiano wrenched himself away from me so fast it left me breathless. His chest heaved, his
Honestly, does it even matter anymore? Time’s just a blur, a fleeting concept that slips through my fingers, especially when I’m stuck in the suffocating hell of History class, pretending to care about monarchies and powdered wigs.I couldn’t focus on the lesson, though. How could I? My eyes were locked onto the back of Mr. Wright's head, as though it was some kind of magnetic force pulling me in. He'd insisted on being called Cristiano now—no longer ‘Mr. Wright,’ no longer the untouchable figure I once saw as my teacher. And every time he said my name, every time those deep brown eyes flickered to me from the front of the class, something in my chest twisted with a hunger I couldn’t ignore. The worst part? He knew it. And that infuriated me.The way his dark hair—messy, like he'd just rolled out of bed, trying to look all tortured artist chic—begged to be touched, ran my thoughts into a frenzy. Not that I wanted to think about touching him, of course. That would be... wrong. But ther
The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled, pressing my back against the wood. Silent. Still. Every move calculated. I was a ghost, a shadow, a fugitive in my own damn dorm room.Mission: Get to bed.Obstacle: Mia Carter, the world’s nosiest roommate.If she so much as sniffed out a secret, she’d gnaw at it until there was nothing left. And tonight? Oh, she was on the hunt. She’d been circling me all day like a damn vulture, eyes gleaming with the thrill of my supposed “date.”Too bad for her—I was slipping in unnoticed. No interrogation. No prying. Just sweet, glorious peace.I crept forward. One step. Two. Almost there—“I thought you weren’t coming back tonight.”HOLY FU—I sucked in a breath so hard I nearly choked on it. My knees buckled. My soul left my body.“MIA, WHAT THE HELL?!” I hissed, clutching my chest like a damsel in a 19th-century novel. “Are you TRYING to send me into cardiac arrest?!”She cackled. Not giggled. Not chuckled. The sound that left her mouth was pure
The whole goddamn situation was wrong. I never ever wanted to bring her off-campus. Not even for a second. But no, Ethan, that bastard, emotionally blackmailed me into this. He made me take her out. Made me buy her things, like I wasn’t already dealing with enough shit. God, I should’ve just told him to fuck off. I should’ve stood my ground, told him I wasn’t his damn babysitter. But no, like a fucking idiot, I agreed.But here's the twist — Goddamn it, she’s Ethan’s little sister. His sister. And somehow, that makes it even worse. Like, how the hell do I walk away from that? I should’ve kept my distance. I should’ve turned him down. But no, Ethan shoved her into my hands like a ticking fucking time bomb. I could already feel the explosion coming. I should’ve seen it, I should’ve known, but no — I let my guard down.Then, there's this. Technically, I’m supposed to treat her like my own sister, right? I’m supposed to look out for her, keep her safe, protect her... like any decent human
Mr. Wright's POVThe clock ticks.A steady, methodical sound. A sound that should be comforting, grounding.But tonight, it’s deafening.I sit at my desk, back stiff, fingers curled into the polished wood as if holding onto reality itself. The glow of the lamp casts long shadows across my apartment, but none of it—none of it—feels real.Not when my mind is trapped in her.Clara.The rain.The dress.The way the fabric clung to her like a second skin, exposing her in ways she didn't intend.I shouldn’t have looked. I know that. But knowing and doing are two very different things.I close my eyes, exhaling sharply, forcing myself to retreat into logic, into discipline—the very things that have always anchored me. But she is there, waiting in the darkness behind my eyelids.Her hair, dark and wet, slicked against her skin. Her lips, slightly parted, trembling from the cold, from the sheer weight of what had just happened.And that dress. God, that fucking dress.The rain had betrayed her
The car stopped suddenly — he actually parked the car and stepped out into the darkness — to give me privacy — that was when I realized…I didn’t even know how to open the bag.I was doomed.I don’t know how to address these feelings! I sat there, in the car, like a pile of human embarrassment on top of existential dread. My entire body was frozen — a mixture of cold sweat and a warm blush I couldn't seem to shake. Mr. Wright stood outside, too cool, too composed. The typical him! His figure against the streetlights was like the calm before a storm, but which storm? Oh, that was my inner turmoil which was about to drown me.---I sighed, staring down at the bag in my hands, willing myself not to flip out. Just change, Alina. You’ve been through worse. You can handle this. It’ll be over soon!‘Never trust a man’s choice when it comes to clothing’—that was a universal truth! And I knew it. So, I hadn’t expected much either. Now, I just needed something—anything—to cover myself. That
The car was moving steadily.I sneaked a glance at him. His hands gripped the steering wheel—firm, steady, capable. His jawline was sharp, his expression unreadable.What was he thinking? It couldn’t be about me, right?Alina, you idiot! He’s not thinking—he’s just driving!I looked away so fast I might’ve given myself whiplash.Stop it, Alina. Don’t be weird. You’re already wet and miserable — don’t add “creepy” to the list.We drove.And then, without warning, the car slowed.He pulled up in front of a brightly lit mall — with too many lights and too many people, all dry, clean, fancy and judgmental.“We’re here,” he said, like I’d asked to stop at an emotional torture chamber.He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me.“Do you want to come in, or…”Before I could find my voice, he added,“Actually, stay in the car. I’ll get it. No need to go out.”I didn’t argue.Didn’t nod.Just acted like a statue, clutching his coat tighter.As if I’d go into a mall right now.Looking like this
His coat lay forgotten on a stone by the riverbank. He reached for it, shook off the dust, and without a word, draped it over my shoulders. The heavy fabric swallowed my shoulders, covering every inch of me that I wished had never been seen.His hands lingered on the edges for a second too long, his knuckles brushing against my damp skin before he pulled away like he was electrocuted.I swore I could feel his warmth through the rain.The coat was warm and smelled faintly of him — he really smelled different, something unique and something impossibly comforting.I stared at him, my lips parting, my breath caught somewhere between embarrassment and gratitude.“Th-thank you,” I stammered, pulling the coat tighter around me.He didn’t say anything. His eyes softened as they met mine, steady and unreadable. Rain trickled down his temple, catching on his lashes. He looked heavenly!Then, with a slight, almost imperceptible smile, he murmured, “It’s nothing.”But it was.It was a shield. A k