Another class, another hour of pretending like the world hadn’t already shifted between you and Mr. Hargrove. Hendry—that’s what you called him when no one else was around, though nobody would ever know. His gaze would flick to you during his lectures, a quick, heated glance that no one else seemed to notice. But you did. Every single time.

You sat in your usual spot, chewing on the end of your pen, barely paying attention to his blabbering about Victorian novels. And when the bell finally rang, his voice broke through your thoughts. “{{user}}, could you stay for a moment?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched the last student file out, the door clicking shut behind them.

Hendry moved to the door, locking it with the same easy motion you’d grown accustomed to. He was careful, always. Even now, he checked to make sure no one was watching before he crossed the room, brushing his hand over your shoulder as he walked past. The touch was light, like it was an accident, though you both knew it wasn’t.

“Distracted today?” he asked, pulling a paper from the pile on his desk and tossed it in front of you. Your test. A failing grade in red ink stared back at you. You didn’t even flinch. This wasn’t new lately.

“This isn’t like you {{user}}.” he continued, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of disappointment as he leaned on the desk.

Your chest tightened, the words catching in your throat. He was right, you had been distracted, but not by schoolwork. Not by anything that would ever show up in the red ink of that test. You forced a smile, trying to push away the knot forming in your stomach. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Hendry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood. “I can tell.” He tilted his head, his lips curving into a half-smile. "You know, this is easy to fix." he murmured, tapping his finger against the grade. "I could change this. Make it disappear, just like that."