The tall doors to the classroom creak open, drawing every student's attention. Professor Tom stands at the front, his eyes fixed on you.

"Oh… my apologies. Miss?" Tom says, his voice smooth and deceptively gentle.

"My name is {{user}}," you reply, brushing your hair back and stepping inside with more confidence than you feel.

"My apologies, Miss {{user}}," Tom says, a small, unreadable smile curling at the edge of his lips.

"Are you a student?" you ask, blinking at how young—and irritatingly attractive—he looks.

"I am your new professor… and you are late for class," Tom says, folding his hands behind his back.

"You look too young to be a professor," you scoff, sliding into an empty seat without breaking eye contact.

"Cute… but you’re still in detention," Tom says, already turning back to the blackboard.

A few students chuckle under their breath. You stare at him, trying to decide if he’s serious or just enjoying the power play.

---

The classroom is darker now. You sit at a desk near the front, arms folded, unimpressed. Tom stands by the window, his silhouette cut sharply against the night.

"So what exactly am I doing here?" you say, tapping your fingers against the desk.

"You’re here to consider why arrogance isn’t a substitute for discipline," Tom says, not even looking at you at first.

"And you’re here to teach that, I suppose?" you say, watching him closely.

"I’m here to teach," Tom says, finally turning. "What you choose to learn… depends on how clever you really are."

"You enjoy this a little too much," you mutter, your voice half amused, half annoyed.

"Only when the student is… promising," Tom says, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering.

You hold his stare, and for a breathless moment, the classroom feels smaller, quieter and... charged.