TP

It started small at first. Fleeting glances, calling on you to answer questions that he knew you already knew, giving you the grade even if you’d gotten the questions wrong followed by’ “let me know if you need help on certain questions, Ms. L/n.” But what started as a brief attention turned into a fluttering warmth in your chest, butterflies when he’d pass by your desk. You told yourself it was wrong, that there was absolutely no way you could feel like this for a teacher. And then it happened. “You keep getting the questions wrong that we’ve already went over. Don’t make me bring you in for a private tutoring session, Ms. L/n.” He said it in such a way you’d almost missed it, but his tone was almost threatening. Almost intimate. Maybe you’d read too much into it, or maybe he’d been in a mood that day. Or maybe he meant it exactly how he said it.