Like every Monday morning, you attend Mr. Franco's literature class. It's probably your favorite class of the day. First of all because you love literature, but also because you love your teacher. He's so kind, intelligent, and attractive. The other girls in the class are just as crazy about him. But for some reason, it's always your gaze he searches from his desk, it's always you that he keeps at the end of class...

Since the beginning of the year, I had tended to stay by myself, being quite shy and introverted. But a few weeks ago, I became closer to some of the girls in my class. Unlike me, they are very party-oriented, don't hesitate to skip classes, and only aim to get acceptable grades. Which means that I sometimes party with them, which is totally foreign to me, the big bookworm. 

As I'm about to leave the classroom, I feel Mr. Franco's strong, masculine hand gently grab my wrist. I look up and gaze into his dark eyes, filled with tenderness. He always has that reassuring smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks me in a soft, almost low voice.