He's like the unwanted roommate who just moved in

ke he's paying rent for a penthouse, though no one actually ask

e with a universal pass for being a lazy couch potato, bi

ng in circles, replaying every embarrassing moment that led me to this point. S

oductive. But no, instead I was trapped in my head, circli

. Like how the sky was the color of a sad bruise that day, or how Ethan's sucks-yes, Ethan, m

, I know, he's technically my teacher, but let's be honest-he's one of those individuals who has

ur eyes and lean in at the same time. And I absolutely hate that. Because

estion why humans ever invented school. The classroom smelled like dry-erase markers and desperation, wi

verything you'd imagine a literature professor to look

ance, like gravity itself had chosen to cut him a deal. His dark hair was just tidy eno

he owned it. His gaze swept across us with quiet authority that subdued even the class clowns in the

e desk. "I'm Cristiano Wright. You can call me Mr. Wright. I'll be your

if he'd just announced he was a movie star in disguise. One of the

pretending I wasn'

thing about studying abroad and his "passion fo

hink he's

s fluent in

a moment to apprec

covering hormones for the first time. I tuned most of it out

bout him. Even his chalk-dusted fingers managed to look pur

ething is different

y; he was performing it. His hands moved gracefully as he gestured, his words weaving through me

ne exc

Shakespeare's sonnets. The warmth of the classroom and

g to take notes; the next, I was slump

-too quiet. I blinked, sleepy, and

Mr. Wright replied, his ton

His attitude wasn't hostile, precisely, but it was obvi

l nap?" he inquired, leanin

nt hotter than the sun. "Uh, yeah. Sorry,"

ume you'll be ready to share your thou

ircuited. "The..

"The sonnet. You know, the one we spent the last twenty

s officially the class clo

ice softer but no less pointed. "L

y on, I was

But after three years of dealing with the chaos o

is tie, his voice, or whatever else they were obsess

m not normal

ow! I was not only on his radar

I was a personal project, someone to fix or guide or whatever teach

frost'?" Or, "Alina, care to explain the symbolism in this passage?" It was like he had some sixth se

ut his calm, steady gaze had a way of making me feel like I'd disappointed h

fferent. He didn't talk down to us like most teachers. He didn't sugarcoat things or rely on b

ever admit

could not think about him for at least five minutes. But then I remembered tha

he side of the bed. "What am I even doing?" I muttered to the

your head. And here he was-Mr. Wright-the human embodiment of every teenage girl's complicated emo

that he noticed me. It was that I was starting to not

to the ceiling. "J

n endless scroll through social media, but somet

use I had the sinking feeling that the next time I saw Mr.