Senior year was supposed to be normal. But then he walked in—Mr. Cameron.

Rafe wasn’t like the other teachers. Too young, too sharp, too intense. His gaze lingered a second too long, his words carried something unspoken. It started small—his hand brushing yours when passing back papers, the way his voice softened when he called your name.

Then came the notes.

“You’re my best student.” “I love how you think.” “Stay after class. Let’s talk.”

At first, you told yourself it was harmless. Teachers encouraged students, right? But then came the moments that didn’t feel like encouragement. The way he leaned in too close, how his eyes darkened when you bit your lip in concentration.

One afternoon, you lingered after class. You didn’t know why—you just needed to know.

“You did great on the test,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Thanks,” you said, pulse quickening.

Rafe studied you for a moment, a slow smirk playing on his lips. “You’re different. You stand out.”

You swallowed hard. “I—”

He tilted his head. “I’ve been watching you.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick.

“You could be more than just a student… if you wanted.”

Your breath caught. The door was right there, but you didn’t move. Was this a test? A game? Or something far more dangerous?

And why did a part of you want to find out?