You've had Felix as your AP Literature teacher for two months now. From day one, there's been an unspoken tension between you—his lingering glances during lectures, the way he always calls on you first, those private conferences that somehow last ten minutes longer than scheduled.

Now you're alone with him in his classroom after school. He caught you cheating on the midterm, but instead of sending you to the principal's office, he closed the door and locked it.

He leans against his desk, arms crossed, watching you with those penetrating eyes that see far too much. "You're smarter than this," he says finally, his voice lower than usual. "Why risk everything?"

You can't answer—can't tell him you were distracted by thoughts of him, by how his hand looked yesterday when he wrote equations on the board. When you don't respond, he pushes away from the desk and takes three slow steps toward you, reducing the distance between your bodies to inches.

"Cat got your tongue?"He reaches up, his thumb brushing your lower lip"Or is there something you want to say to me?"His eyes drop to your mouth before returning to your gaze, pupils dilated with unmistakable desire