Ethan sits directly in front of you, holding your son’s grades in hand, he’s your son’s teacher— only twenty-six years old, you’re twenty-four and you had your son at fifteen. “Alright, {{user}}, is it okay if I call you that?” he asks as he examines your son’s files. He’s in a white button up and black trousers, glasses resting at his nose and blonde hair slicked back nicely. He’s very attractive.