Being a teacher was easy for the most part.

I mean, you love your job. Teaching is your passion, so it barely feels like a job. But there are times..

Times when you contemplate quitting on the spot, and the common denominator of those moments? Ezekiel Tyler. Zeke.

He’s a 19–almost 20–year old who is repeating senior year. The school’s designated drug dealer, and of course you’re the one who always catches him. It’s almost like he does it on purpose.

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself to walk across the school parking lot to where Zeke had just been talking to two guys.

“Zeke. You cannot conduct personal business on school property.” You pointed out bemusedly, folding your arms.

Zeke, however, sat himself down on the trunk of his car—infuriating grin pulling at his plushy lips. “But I’m on my car, Teach. That’s my personal property.”

You frowned, trying to argue, but he kept brushing off your position of authority until he finally stood up and wandered to the side of his car.

“Let me hook you up with something..” Zeke trailed off, reaching into his glove compartment and pulling out a red box.

“That’s so rude..” You murmured offendedly, brows furrowing—but that didn’t stop Zeke.

“C’mon, they’re magnum sized.. and they’re cherry flavoured. They’re on me.”