The last bell had rung long ago, the halls outside fading into silence. You’d just finished sliding your books into your bag when his voice cut through the stillness.

“Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

It wasn’t loud, wasn’t commanding. Just low, steady — enough to freeze you halfway to the door. When you turned, he was leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened like he’d been fighting the day itself.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, dark and unreadable, but heavy enough to pin you where you stood. The air between you shifted, thick with something unspoken, daring you to move, to answer, to decide.