His classroom always felt quieter after lunch. Maybe it was the way the sun slanted through the tall windows around this hour, painting golden lines across the tiled floor. Or maybe it was the hush that came with digestion and drowsy teenagers returning from the chaos of the cafeteria.
Callum dropped his bag onto his desk, rolling his shoulders. A few more hours. That's all he needed to get through. Just finish the day, get home, ignore the drawer, and try to feel like a decent man again.
He stepped closer to the window, instinctively drawn to the view just outside.
And there she was.
Her.
Seated on the far bench beneath the tree where seniors liked to kill time before next period. One leg crossed over the other, her fingers idly scrolling through her phone. She wasn't doing anything. Just existing. Just… being there.
But it was enough to send a jolt through his spine.
Her skirt— regulation length, but barely. Her blouse— pressed to perfection. And the sunlight caught on her skin like it was worshiping her.
God, she was beautiful.
And he hated that he noticed.
Hated how he felt that electric thrum of awareness whenever she was nearby. Like a low voltage humming just beneath his skin.
She's just a student.
He was about to look away—force himself back into professional neutrality—when his door swung open.
"Mr. Hayes!" a familiar voice called. "Yo, quick question before next period."
It was Nate, tall and gangly, one of his brighter students. Two other boys trailed behind him, followed by Sophia, always chipper and perpetually chewing gum.
Callum smiled smoothly, pulling himself away from the window. "What's up, guys?"
"I bombed that quiz, didn't I?" Nate groaned, slapping his forehead. "You're gonna tell me I should've actually read the chapter, right?"
Callum raised a brow, pulling out a folder from his desk drawer. "Well, I'm not in the habit of crushing teenage dreams, but… let's just say guessing C for every question isn't a strategy I'd recommend for college."
"Damn," Nate winced. "You caught that?"
"Buddy, it was all C."
Sophia laughed, flopping into one of the front desks. "You're too nice, Mr. Hayes. If I was a teacher, I'd just write 'Why are you like this' on top of the page and move on."
Callum smirked, resting against his desk. "That's tempting, believe me."
"So, like, are we gonna do another debate soon?" one of the boys asked. "The last one was fun. Even though Sophia tried to verbally murder us."
"I'm passionate," she shrugged, grinning.
Callum nodded, grateful—momentarily—for the distraction. "Yes, we'll be doing another debate next week. Topic will be up tomorrow. Start prepping arguments."
Nate leaned forward, mock-whispering. "Please, for the love of God, no politics this time. My mom went on a full rant when she read my paper and now I'm banned from watching the news."
"Duly noted," Callum chuckled.
He was slipping into the rhythm now—the familiar ease of teacher-student banter. His charm returned effortlessly, polished like armor. This was who he was. Callum Hayes: upstanding, respected, admired. Nothing dark. Nothing hidden.
And yet.
His eyes flicked—once, just once—back to the window.
She was still there.
Only now, she was looking up. Right at him.
She met his gaze like she had been waiting for him to look. And then—slowly—she tilted her head to the side, that same unreadable smile curling on her lips. Like a challenge. Like a dare.
His stomach tightened.
"Mr. Hayes?" Sophia asked, suddenly.
He blinked. "Hmm?"
"You spaced. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Just… thinking about the lesson plan."
"Dude," Nate grinned. "You're so intense. We need to get you, like, a hobby or something. You don't even eat with the rest of the teachers."
"Not a fan of the microwave aroma," Callum muttered, forcing a smile.
Sophia stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You're weird, but like… weird in a cool way. You're the only teacher who doesn't make us feel like morons."
"High praise," he said dryly.
The bell rang in the distance, signaling the five-minute warning for the next class.
"Alright," he said, standing straight again, "clear out. And Nate, read the damn chapter this time."
"Got it, sir," Nate groaned. "No more C's. Scout's honor."
As they left, he walked to the door with them, laughing along, keeping his voice easy.
But once the hallway swallowed them, once the chatter dimmed—
He turned back to the window.
She was gone.
He sighed disappointed with himself.
He was already at his desk before the first bell rang, sleeves rolled up, pen in hand, trying to grade a stack of late essays. He hadn't slept well. He never did lately—not with her face creeping into his thoughts every time he closed his eyes.
He was halfway through a sentence on passive voice when the classroom door creaked open.
He didn't look up right away.
He knew.
He felt her enter.
The shift in the air. The faintest whisper of expensive perfume. Like white flowers wilted in heat.
"Morning, Mr. Hayes."
Her voice. Soft. Sweet. Soaked in sugar and something sharper beneath.
He looked up.
She wore her uniform—but differently. The skirt wasn't rolled, but it fit her too well. Her blouse was buttoned to code, but barely. She wore a cardigan today, slipping off one shoulder like she had no idea it had fallen. Her lips held a pinker tint than yesterday, and her hair… too perfect.
"Evans," he greeted. Formal. Controlled.
She smiled like she hadn't noticed the tightness in his tone. "I brought your favorite," she said, holding up a small cup of coffee, steaming and suspiciously just how he liked it.
His brow furrowed. "How do you know what I like?"
She blinked, head tilting innocently. "You always buy the same thing from the café across the street. I was in line yesterday behind you."
He took the cup slowly. Not because he wanted to—but because not taking it would create tension. And that would make the other students ask questions.
"Thank you," he said tightly. "Take your seat."
She obeyed. But not before brushing past his desk… and letting her hand graze his.
Callum flinched like she'd burned him.
She just smiled and walked away.
Throughout the lesson, he couldn't focus. Not fully. His delivery was steady, his words were sharp, but his brain was screaming. She was too attentive. Too responsive. Her eyes locked onto his mouth every time he spoke. She leaned forward too often. Laughed too softly.
And then… she dropped her pen.
He shouldn't have looked.
But he did.
She bent slowly to retrieve it. Straightened. Caught his gaze.
Smiled again.
You're losing your goddamn mind, he thought.
The bell rang and the class started to pack up.
"Evans," he said abruptly before she could leave, "Stay behind for a moment."
Some students gave her looks, eyebrows raised.
"Oooh, someone's in trouble," Nate muttered with a smirk.
"Go," Callum said flatly.
They left.
She remained.
And for the first time… her smile faltered. Just a flicker.
He shut the door.
"Sit."
She sat.
He stayed behind his desk, arms crossed, posture strict. Like it would protect him from how she looked in the sunlight. "I need to speak to you about your behavior in this class."
She blinked, face open and unreadable. "My behavior?"
"Yes. You've been… physical. In ways that aren't appropriate."
Her brows drew together slightly, a small frown forming on her lips. "I don't understand."
"You touched me this morning."
"I gave you coffee."
"You brushed your hand over mine."
"I was handing it to you."
He exhaled harshly. "Don't play dumb with me."
Now she looked truly hurt. "I'm not… I'm sorry, Mr. Hayes. If I made you uncomfortable, I really didn't mean to. I thought… I thought I was just being friendly. You're my favorite teacher."
That landed like a stone in his gut.
His grip on the edge of the desk tightened. "This isn't a joke, Evans."
"I'm not joking." Her voice cracked, just a little. "I didn't realize being kind was… crossing a line."
Her eyes glistened. She wasn't crying. Not really. But she knew how to make it look like she might.
Callum stared at her.
And slowly… doubt crept in.
Was I imagining it?
Was he?
Was he really projecting that much? Was he so far gone that he was starting to see innocence as seduction?
He rubbed his jaw, now ashamed of how sternly he'd spoken. "I… apologize."
She looked down at her hands. "It's okay. I know some teachers think I'm… weird."
"No," he said quickly. "It's not that. You're a good student."
She looked up.
Her eyes were wide. Wet.
"Thank you," she whispered.
And just like that—she stood, adjusted her bag, and walked to the door.
She paused there. Just for a second.
Then turned her head, a soft smile on her lips again. "Next time I'll just bring the coffee and set it on your desk."
Before he could say anything, she left.
The silence she left behind was louder than anything.
Callum sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
What the hell is wrong with me?