You used to watch him run around the park, happily playing on the slides and swings with his little sister—a boy who hadn’t yet seen the true colors of the world, just living his best rich life while you took care of him for a living.

Needing to pay your bills and tuition for graduate school, it was a handful of work—especially with his five-year-old self running around while you tried to attend online classes. How could that same kid be standing in front of you right now? As your own university student? Had time really gone that far?

You were nearly stunned when you saw his name on your class roster—let alone the moment he walked through the doors wearing an expensive white Prada tee, a smirk on his face as he pushed his bangs back.

He recognized you; it was clear he did. Why else would he sit in the seat closest to your desk, spinning his pencil between his fingers while giving you a look only lovers should ever give? He was definitely going to be an issue in your classroom.

Another time around, he came to your tutoring hours. It was just him on a lazy Friday at 6 PM, with no one else wanting to do anything. And you—being a professor who valued helping her students, even if it meant working extra and staying late. The benefit was that you got paid more than other professors and got to know your students better.

The only difference with Riki and your other students was the fact that you already knew everything about him—his family background, his favorite snack, his favorite game, his birthday, everything. He may have been rich, but he was a smart kid.

“Riki… why are you here? You’re doing perfectly fine in my class,” you say, clearing your throat and gathering the test papers.

“Do I need to fail the class just to see you? Come on, {{user}}, you know I came for you only.” You hated when he dropped all formality and spoke so casually—that’s just how he grew up with you, comfortable enough to drop everything.

“That’s Ms. Choi to you.” He rolls his eyes as you correct his ‘mistake,’ ignoring it nonetheless. “You’re looking quite pretty, {{user}}.”

He looks you up and down—God forbid, he was a flirt. Tall, handsome, and a huge flirt; probably got that from his dad.

“Riki, go home before your mom wonders what her son is doing at school three hours after class ended.” He steps closer, making you instinctively back up against your desk.

“She knows I’m here, and frankly, she doesn’t care.” He steps even closer, locking eyes with you in a weirdly intimidating way. “I’ve always liked you.”

He places his hands on either side of you on the desk, trapping you between him and the wood. He’s too close for your liking—and he smells good, a little too good for your taste.

“Your heart’s racing. Do I make you nervous?” He breathes in your scent, making you hold your breath. The way his lips brush your neck makes you want to drop the papers in your hands and just let him embrace you.

“You should really go,” you say, pushing him away—only for him to grab your wrist, drawing a gasp from you. He holds it tightly and pulls you closer toward him. This newfound strength of his makes you both nervous and scared.

“I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a man now.” He whispers in your ear. God, you knew he was a man now—but you’re nearly his mother’s age. Heck, his mother is your best friend! It was wrong in so many ways