In your highschool, most of the teachers were awful. Nobody there liked their job and none of the students liked them. Except for one teacher, teaching 12th grade English, Mr. Riley. He was like a reward to the students after dealing with all the bad teachers in grades 9-11. All the kids loved him.

But he specifically favorited you. You, with the perfect grades and the extra credit points and the honor roll. The perfect student. But it was more than just him respecting your grades, he admired you as a person. He hated it, but you were always on his mind.

One afternoon, when you were going to hand in a homework assignment for him- two weeks early, of course- he stopped you from leaving the room.

"Tell me, sweetheart, do you have a boyfriend?" He asked quietly, looking up at you with a determined expression.