Mason's POV
The classroom buzzed like a beehive without a queen. Papers were flying, voices bounced off the walls, and someone at the back was tossing a crumpled ball across the room. With Ms. Anderson still nowhere in sight, the class had officially turned into a free-for-all.
Luke, my best friend and seatmate, leaned over with his usual energy. "Bro, you won't believe what happened last night," he said, grinning like an idiot. "Lexy planned this surprise date at the lake. Candles, picnic, everything. I swear, she's the one."
I mumbled something that sounded like interest, but didn't bother looking up. My pencil moved on its own, sweeping across the page of my sketchpad—shapes slowly forming into faces, backgrounds, and shadows only I understood. It helped me tune out the noise. That was until the noisy chatter suddenly softened into a collective hush.
Mr. Jones, our principal, walked into the room with his arms crossed and his usual strict face. But my attention wasn't on him. It was on the young woman beside him.
She looked… out of place. Too young to be on that side of the desk, too calm for the chaos she'd just walked into. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, and when she smiled politely at the class, it felt like the whole room got a little quieter. I closed my sketchpad immediately and set my pencil aside, as if what I was seeing deserved my full attention.
Mr. Jones cleared his throat. "Class, I have an announcement. Ms. Anderson had a bit of an accident during her vacation and will be unable to return for a while. Fortunately, we have a substitute teacher for the summer."
So that was it—a sub. Normally, I wouldn't care. But then the principal turned to the woman. "Everyone, please welcome Ms. Morgan."
She stepped forward, straightening her posture in that nervous but confident way people do when they're trying their best to make a good impression. Her voice was soft at first, but it carried across the room.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Elise Morgan," she began. "I'm currently finishing my degree at Crest View University, and I'll be taking over Ms. Anderson's classes for the summer as part of my graduation requirements. I hope we can all get along, and if you have any questions or concerns, my door's always open."
She smiled again, the kind of smile that managed to look both professional and genuine. I couldn't look away. My brain told me to stop staring, but my eyes didn't listen.
Luke noticed, of course. He snorted quietly and jabbed his elbow into my side. "Dude," he whispered. "You good? You look like you just saw an angel."
I ignored him, but my cheeks betrayed me with a faint heat.
Elise's POV
I could feel dozens of eyes on me as I spoke, though I did my best to stay composed. Introductions were easy on paper, but standing before a group of teenagers who were only a few years younger than me, it felt strange. They all had that typical summer class energy: restless, barely focused, ready to be anywhere but here.
At least most of them did.
From where I stood, I noticed two boys at the far end of the row nudging each other, laughing under their breath. I tried not to take it personally—students will always be students. But when I finished speaking, my gaze naturally slipped toward them. That's when our eyes met.
For a second, everything seemed to go still. His gaze was deep, curious, unsettling in a way I couldn't quite define. He was handsome—too handsome for a high schooler—and there was a quiet confidence in the way he held my eyes. I should've looked away immediately, but I didn't.
Then he smiled. No, worse—he winked.
Heat shot through my face. My breath caught slightly, and I quickly turned away, pretending to adjust a strand of hair just to break the tension. Before I could dwell on the moment, Mr. Jones spoke again.
"That's all for now, students. Ms. Morgan will begin lessons tomorrow. You're free to use the rest of the period for independent work or other activities."
I nodded politely. "Thank you, everyone. If you need me, I'll be in my temporary office."
With that, I followed Mr. Jones out of the classroom, aware of the echoes of chatter rising again behind me—and maybe, just maybe, one particular pair of eyes still lingering on my back.