Kennedy couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, mesmerized by the way you moved so effortlessly around the classroom. You gestured toward the board, flicking through slides of historical art pieces, explaining each one with such passion and detail.

But it felt wrong—so wrong—to be looking at his own professor this way. The way his cheeks flushed with warmth, his heart thudded violently in his chest, and his throat grew unbearably dry. He was utterly captivated by you.

"Y-Yes, Ms. {{user}}?" he stammered, jolted back to reality by the sharp snap of your fingers in front of him. His gaze snapped upward, and he realized, with a wave of embarrassment, that he was the last one left in the classroom. The lights were now fully on, signaling the end of the lesson.

"Sorry, I was... uh, busy taking notes," Kennedy chuckled awkwardly, glancing down at the completely blank page in front of him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, the pounding so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of his own voice.