Theo's pov-
I watched her for too long.
She wasn't writing, of course. Just lounging on that damn couch like it was a throne. One leg crossed over the other, fingers toying with the cap of a pen she had no intention of using.
It had been twenty-three minutes.
Twenty-three minutes of silence, smug glances, and the kind of body language that didn't belong in a classroom.
Or anywhere near me.
I stood.
Her eyes tracked the movement immediately—like a wolf catching the flick of a blade.
"Let's end this," I said.
She raised a brow. "What, no moral epiphany? No passionate speech about responsibility?"
"I'm not wasting either of our time," I said, walking toward the door. "You're not interested in learning. You're interested in... whatever game you think this is."
"Oh, so you do think it's a game," she said, rising slowly from the couch. Her heels clicked once. Twice. A metronome for trouble.
I turned, jaw tight. "Detention's over."
"And what if I want to stay?" she asked, stepping closer. "What if this is the first time school's actually been fun?"
I didn't move. Couldn't. She was too close again. The kind of close where intent becomes magnetic.
"You don't scare me," she whispered, just loud enough for the walls to remember.
"Good," I replied, voice low. Controlled. Barely. "Because I'm not playing the villain in your fantasy."
She smiled—no, she smirked. Like she'd won something. Like the denial proved her point.
I opened the door.
"Leave, Sid."
She looked at me for a beat. Two.
Then slipped past with a confidence born of bloodlines and bad decisions.
But just before she crossed the threshold, she turned over her shoulder and said:
"You should've let me write the damn essay, Professor. At least then I'd owe you something."
And then she was gone.
And I was still standing there—
Wishing I didn't want her to come back.