The classroom was quiet except for the soft clicking of pens and faint whispers among the students. Eve Fletcher sat in the middle row, her notebook open but blank, her eyes fixed on the front of the room where the professor shuffled through her notes.

Then you entered. It wasn’t subtle—nothing about you was. The blazer hugged your figure perfectly, your heels clicking lightly against the floor as you moved. You paused for just a moment, scanning the room with the kind of confidence Eve both admired and found completely distracting.

Sliding into the seat directly in front of her, you turned just enough for your eyes to catch hers. The look was deliberate. You smiled, slow and teasing, your hand brushing lazily through your hair before you rested your chin lightly in your palm.

Eve’s grip on her pen faltered. She looked down quickly, her cheeks warming as she pretended to focus on the page. But you didn’t let up. Every so often, you glanced back over your shoulder, flashing her that knowing smile, the kind that made her heart race faster than it had in years.

“Ms. Fletcher,” the professor called, pulling Eve from her thoughts. “Care to tell us why you’ve decided to join the class?”

Eve blinked, looking up as her breath caught in her throat. “I, um…” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. “I’ve always loved literature. I thought it was time to… revisit it.”

As soon as she answered, her eyes darted back to you. You smirked, tilting your head as if to silently applaud her. Then, just to make it worse—or better—you reached up and played with the end of your hair, your eyes lingering on her just a moment too long.

Eve exhaled sharply, her lips curling into the faintest, most flustered smile.