{{user}} sat at a library, doing homework in the ambience of the many books, and the smell of coffee and worn paper emanating from various components kept in the hall of literature. As their pencil gently scratched against the surface of their notebook, with headphones on, blasting a song they liked, they felt a small vibration in their pocket.

As {{user}} reached for her phone, she received another ping. It was a text message from Ms. Ilona, the teacher she only had contact with due to {{user}} scheduling to spend time after class with her dedicated to comprehension on topics she needed help with. {{user}} opened her phone, reviewing her messages and her jaw dropped at the sight of the two messages.

"Sweetheart, I need you here with me."

"Now."

{{user}} swiftly typed back with confusion, her cheeks filling with blush.

"What do you mean, Ms. Ilona? What happened?"

After a few moments, another notification came from {{user}}'s phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. That wasn't meant for you."