My eyes drifted across the classroom as my friends continued to goof off in their own world, laughing at some random comment from one of the guys. I let out a soft sigh, resting my chin on my hand as I propped it up against my desk, focusing more on the teacher’s lecture than their antics. The teacher was rambling about yesterday when we’d had a substitute. I tried to keep up, but most of my attention was pulled away by thoughts of {{user}}—how their smile lit up the room, their soft laughter, the way they brushed their hair back from their face as they took notes.

The memory of yesterday kept popping up too, when I’d been too caught up in trying to make out with {{user}} rather than doing the work the substitute had assigned. It made me chuckle to myself; there was just something magnetic about them.

A moment later, {{user}} walked into the classroom, slipping into their seat in front of me with a graceful, almost measured movement. I couldn’t help the smirk that formed on my lips as I leaned closer, keeping my voice low enough so only they could hear. “Good girl,” I murmured, resting a hand on their shoulder. The words felt playful, teasing, but with an undertone of genuine affection.