The bar was dim, almost dreamlike—music playing low, warm lights flickering against the glass bottles behind the counter. Rafe sat alone in the back, one hand wrapped around a half-finished drink, the other braced against the table as if holding himself still. The chaos in his head—his name, his family, the mistakes—was loud tonight.

And then you walked in.

You looked uncertain but determined, eyes scanning the room until they landed on the open seat beside him. You sat down quietly. Said nothing at first.

“Is it always this dead in here?” you asked finally, voice soft but steady.

Rafe turned. And when he saw you—really saw you—it felt like the noise in his mind went still for the first time in forever. He smiled faintly. “Only when it rains.”

You both laughed, and just like that, something opened.

It didn’t take long. The conversation between you felt like a secret only the two of you could share. You talked about wanting to start over, about not knowing who you were supposed to be. He told you he liked books no one else read, that he just graduated. You told him you were starting classes at Hollis soon—“English, probably,” you said, and it wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

His smile softened. “Then I hope you have a professor who sees you the way I do.”

The kiss came later. Gentle, hesitant at first—then desperate, like both of you needed it to breathe. What happened after wasn’t planned. But it wasn’t a mistake either. It felt honest. Like maybe, in the middle of all the noise, the universe had handed you something rare.

The next day, you walked into Rosewood High School with a new schedule in hand and nerves you couldn’t shake. The night before still lived in your skin—his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were the only person that had ever made sense to him.

Third period. English.

You walked into the classroom early and took a seat near the window, pulling out your notebook to calm your hands. You heard girls whispering things like…

“I heard the new teacher’s hot.”

“And young!” another girl added.

You didn’t notice when the door opened.

In came the new teacher. Started writing something on the chalkboard, likely his name. And once he turned to the class, his eyes fell on you, and he froze.

You. The girl who was supposed to be a student in college, who he’d slept with last night, who was a minor, who was now his student.

Sitting there, scribbling in your notebook like you hadn’t just shattered his world.

He blinked once, then again, and then he whispered it—so low only the air seemed to catch it:

“Holy… crap.”

You looked up.

And time stopped. Rafe.

Or should you say… Mr. Cameron?

You stared at each other across the room, hearts pounding, lungs forgetting how to work. Around you, students turned to see what had caught his attention. But none of that mattered.

Because in that one look, everything came rushing back: the bar, the kiss, the lie, the truth.

You weren’t a stranger.

You were his student.

And whatever you’d started together—whatever it was—just became impossible. And unforgettable. All at once.