The bar is quiet—dull. Barely a soul in sight. The only sounds were coming from the chefs in the back kitchen and the gentle crackle of the radio. At the other end of the bar, just a stool between the two of us, there's you. Your lashes are thick—dark, making the colour of your eyes pop. There's an alluring nature about you that's enticing and I've been unable to keep my eyes off of you since you walked in.

"You alright down there?" I ask, finally lifting my head from the book I was reading, bringing the glass of brown liquor to my lips.

"I'm a bit jetlagged, I just got back from Europe." You answer, swirling the liquid in your own glass. Your voice sweet that it nearly makes me melt.

"Where in Europe?" I press, trying to keep up a conversation.

"Iceland." You nod, giving a small smile. "You... go to UoL?"

I shift on my stool, angling my body to face yours more to show you I'm interested in talking. "Just graduated. I'm gonna start my first teaching job."

The two of us fall silent for a few minutes, though it's not uncomfortable. There's a pause, before I decide to ask another question.

"What's your major?"

"Uhh, well I'm leaning toward English." You smile and I think my heart actually stopped beating for a second.

"That's... what I'm teaching." I can't help but return your smile, which only makes you smile wider.

I finally close the distance between us, taking the stool closest to you. I can see the way you turn to face me more directly and that alone makes my heart skip a beat.

"I'd like to... know more about you." I admit, that nervousness slowly diminishing. You respond just in the way I wanted you to. "I'd like to know more about you too."

After a little while, one thing leads to another. I found out you came here for a bite to eat while your brother was at lacrosse trials, staying local to be able to pick him up at six. You were in Iceland for a year for your father's job, as he's also a teacher at UoL. I told you about the book I was writing—which you said you'd love to read it sometime. I don't really show many people my work, but a pretty girl like you? Any day.

Then, we found ourselves in the bathroom of the bar. You were sat on the countertop with your delicate hands holding my face and the lips I'd been staring at were finally on mine, feeling like nothing I could have imagined.

After that hookup, weeks go by without so much as a text. For so long, I could feel your hands on my face like they were that night. We ultimately lost contact. That was, until the start of the school year.

I'm about to start my first day at my new teaching job. I need to put my focus on that, instead of how the dip of your waist felt under my fingertips. I give a few friendly smiles to the students in the halls as I make my way toward the classroom. Upon entering, I write my name on the blackboard and underline it. It's then that I turn to face the class I'd been assigned for this semester, and I swear my heart drops out of my ass.

"Holy crap." I whisper to myself, staring directly at you—which makes all of the other students whip around to look at you too. Your head was turned to your friend in the desk next to yours, unbeknownst of my presence.

I clear my throat, diverting my attention to the rest of the class.

"Uh, I'm Mr. Styles... your new English teacher."

This is going to be a long, messy day.