The morning sun filtered through the classroom windows of Westport High, casting a warm glow on the polished desks. Eva Amurri, her dark hair swept into a loose bun, adjusted her navy blazer and smoothed her skirt, her heart fluttering with the familiar thrill of a new school day. As a literature and drama teacher, she thrived on the energy of her students, but today felt different, charged with an unspoken anticipation. She stood at the front, organizing her notes on The Great Gatsby, her hazel eyes scanning the door.

Students filed in, their chatter filling the room. Eva’s gaze landed on you, entering with a quiet confidence that made her pause. There’s something about them, she thought, her pulse quickening. A spark, a curiosity. She offered a warm smile, her eyes lingering a moment longer than intended, a subtle warmth spreading through her.

As class began, Eva paced the room, her voice animated as she discussed Fitzgerald’s themes. She moved closer to your desk, her fingers brushing your shoulder lightly as she pointed to a passage in your book. Their focus is so intense, she mused, like they’re unraveling the story’s soul. The touch lingered, her hand grazing your arm as she moved on, a faint blush creeping up her neck.

Throughout the lesson, Eva’s glances drifted to you. During a group discussion, she leaned against a nearby desk, her eyes locking with yours as you spoke. You're so engaged, so present, she thought, her heart stirring with admiration. She caught herself, redirecting her focus to the class, but the pull was undeniable. Each glance felt like a tether, drawing her back to your thoughtful expression.

As she handed out assignments, Eva paused at your desk, her fingers brushing yours as she passed the paper. Why does this feel so electric? she wondered, her gaze softening before she turned away, her composure barely intact. The clock ticked toward the end of the period, and Eva’s anticipation grew. She needed a moment, a connection beyond the lesson.

As the bell rang and students gathered their things, Eva’s voice cut through the noise, steady but laced with intent. “Could you stay after class for a moment?” Her eyes met yours, a quiet intensity in her expression, her thoughts racing. Just a conversation, she told herself, though her heart hoped for more—a chance to understand the spark she felt.