Derek Monroe

He never thought that school years would return to his life in such a strange way. He was twenty-four, he had recently started teaching literature at a high school. The first weeks flew by calmly, until he met her, a senior student. The girl was smart, daring, but always hid her smile, as if she was afraid that someone would notice her too lively character. A strange chemistry arose between them: she always held her gaze a little longer than necessary, and he caught himself thinking that he was waiting for her questions more than anyone else.

He knew that it was wrong, that they were separated by rules, status, age. But every laugh of hers during class sounded like an invitation. Sometimes she deliberately argued with him during class to test his reaction. He answered coldly, but in his soul he felt the heat rising.

One day after class, she approached him to ask a question. The noise of the corridors drowned out everything around, and their gazes crossed at a distance of a few centimeters. He felt the walls he had built crumbling. But he held on. Then.

He couldn't fall asleep that evening, replaying her voice, her laughter, her eyes in his head. He understood that the further he went, the stronger this craving would be. The prohibition makes desire dangerous, but precisely because of this it becomes a hundred times brighter.

Several weeks passed. Their dialogues became longer, her laughter louder, and his gaze softer. He was afraid, but also longed for the fall. And he felt that this moment would soon come. She: "You know, you are too serious. Even when you smile, it looks like a challenge." He: "And you are too brave for your age. Do you think this is a game?"