In His Office

I walked into Mr. Wright’s office, fully prepared for the usual. 

You know, the kind of chat where I’d be scolded for not doing my homework, or told how much potential I’m wasting because I don’t care about physics or whatever, or how I could’ve gotten an A if only I would have tried. 

It’s always the same, right? 

Just once, I’d love for someone to throw in a "You’re doing great, Alina!" or "Take a break from all the stress." But nope, I wasn’t so lucky.

Instead, I got a curveball. No, scratch that. It wasn’t just a curveball; it was a full-on baseball bat or a full force punch on the face.

I should’ve known that something weird was going to happen the moment I walked into Mr. Wright’s office. You know, like when you enter a room and instantly feel like you’re being watched, but it’s not creepy, it’s just… him.

Mr. Wright always has this “I’m effortlessly cool and totally unbothered” vibe. He's the kind of guy who wears the same white shirt every single day like it’s a uniform. And let’s be real, he looks damn good in it.

Honestly, he probably knows it too. The way he leans back in his chair, hands casually folded on his lap, his piercing eyes gleaming like he knows exactly what’s going to make me squirm. It’s infuriating. 

And here I am, just trying to get through another tedious chat with a teacher I barely tolerate, expecting the usual drill: lecture, disappointment, and more fake smiles than I can handle.

Instead, the moment I sit down, he does something completely insane.

“Hey, Alina,” he says, voice unusually calm, almost… friendly? It throws me off, and I instantly hate that I’m off balance.

“So,” Mr. Wright says, looking at me over the top of his coffee mug with that same annoying smirk, “how’s the week going?”

Typical Mr. Wright. Always trying to act like we’re pals. I roll my eyes. “You know, the usual. Survival mode. Exams, homework, that guy in the hallway who thinks it's funny to trip me on purpose.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like you’re really living the dream.”

“Yeah, right,” I deadpan, crossing my arms.

Living the dream by hiding in a corner of the library like a hermit.

“I can’t wait for the weekend so I can not do any of this stuff.”

That’s when he hits me with it.

“So, Alina,” he starts, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, “do you want to go off-campus this Sunday?”

I freeze. I honestly think I misheard him for a second. He’s doing what now? My teacher, who spends his days lecturing us about literature and rolling his eyes at our “lack of enthusiasm,” just casually invited me to go off-campus with him. 

On my one day off. What is this, a bad rom-com or some malfunctioned brain of some author?

I blink at him. “Wait, hold up. You’re… asking me if I want to spend my Sunday with you? Like, out of school? Off-campus? As in away from my bed? Just you and me?”

Mr. Wright raises an eyebrow, that damn smirk still plastered on his face like he’s just offered me a free ticket to Disneyland. 

“Yeah, I was thinking it could be a good opportunity to, you know, get some fresh air. Maybe grab some lunch? Take a little break from all the stress around here?”

Now, at first, I’m just trying to process the idea. Me, hanging out with my teacher on my sacred day off? Like, what do I even wear? Do I need to be on my best behavior? Is he secretly trying to make me do extra credit in a cafe or something? This feels like a trap.

No, that's not the main point!

I stare at him. My mind is racing with all the logical reasons to prove why this is a horrible idea? 

First of all, he’s my teacher, not my friend. 

Second of all, I don’t even want to be out of my room this Sunday—this is my escape, my only chance to be left alone with N*****x and no one yelling at me about grades or responsibilities.

Third of all—how much more awkward could this get?

“Uh…no,” I say, shaking my head. “Why would I want to go off-campus with you? First of all, I’ve got plans this weekend. Second of all, it’s Sunday. My off-day. My day to binge-watch dramas in bed. You know, the important stuff.”

He chuckles again. “I get it, I get it. You need your ‘me-time.’”

“Exactly!” I practically jumped out of my seat with excitement. “And you know, I think I cannot manage to survive the weekend without sleeping.”

But he doesn’t give up. Of course he doesn’t. Because Mr. Wright is relentless when he wants something. 

“It’ll just be fun, Alina. You’ve been looking a little... stressed lately. A change of scenery might be good for you. You never know.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. “Are you trying to get me to bond with you or something? You do realize that my ‘fun’ involves zero human interaction, right? Like, my idea of fun is getting food delivery and not having to talk to anyone for an entire day. I’m literally allergic to socializing.”

He raises an eyebrow like I’m just being difficult for the fun of it. “You don’t think you could stand spending a few hours with me outside the classroom?”

I scoff. 

Oh yeah, definitely. Spending time with the guy who assigns me homework I’ll probably never do on a Sunday? Sounds like a blast.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure? I thought it might be good for you to get some air.”

I roll my eyes, my sarcasm dial cranked to eleven. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘I’m getting my life together’ like spending a Sunday with my teacher. That’s literally the stuff of nightmares, Mr. Wright.”

“Is it, though?” He leans forward slightly, and I swear to God, he looks like he’s genuinely considering this. His smirk deepens.

“Could be fun. You never know.”