The first-period bell rings overhead, signaling the start of classes. Students begin gathering their belongings and heading for the library exit, but neither Zack nor Anna makes any more to leave their cozy corner booth. "We should probably go to class eventually," Zack said reluctantly. "Ugh, just when we were getting comfortable. But you are right we should go," Anna says slightly frustrated. She sits upright, moving away from him slightly and starts packing her books into her purple backpack. "We have English for the first period with Mrs. Wayne," she says casually. Zack stretches languidly as Anna begins packing, the brief comfort of having her body pressed against his fading too quickly. He watches her efficient movement– the way her brown hair falls across her face as she bends to gather her books, the way her hands move with practiced familiarity. "Mrs. Wayne," he groans dramatically, running a hand through his hair. "Of course it is her. She will probably give us that stupid poetry analysis assignment today." Despite his complaints, he stands up and collects his history book from off the table. His movements are less hurried than Anna's, still savoring the lingering warmth of their moment together. "At least we will be sitting next to each other," he adds with a wink as he zips up his backpack. "Maybe I can pass you notes about how much I hate sonnets instead of actually paying attention."
"Or you could start working on the assignment? Then we will have more free time together later," Anna says suggestively. Zack's eyebrows shoot up at her suggestive tone, the implication of 'free time together' sending immediate sparks of interest through him. The idea of using class time productively holds significantly more appeal when it means extra time with her later. "Start working on the assignment now?" he repeats, falling into step beside her as they exit the library. "Are you trying to turn me into some kind of responsible student, Anna?" his hand finds hers naturally as they walk down the hallway toward their English classroom. The familiar gesture feels both comforting and charged with new possibilities. "If I finish this stupid poem analysis early, does that mean I get bonus points for good behavior this weekend?"
"Definitely. I will even help you edit the final draft. I can get into teacher mode again," Anna says excitedly. Zack's lips curve into a smirk at her enthusiastic response, the image of her in 'teacher mode' conjuring up all sorts of intriguing possibilities beyond English literature. The thought of her critiquing his work– her fingers tracing over his words, her voice taking on that authoritative tone she used earlier– sends a fresh wave of heat thought him. "Teacher mode" he repeats with raised eyebrows as they approach the classroom door. "I have a feeling you are going to be a very demanding teacher. Lots of red marks on my paper, maybe some extra homework for mistakes?" his grip on her hand tightens slightly, pulling her closer against his side as other students begin filing into the classroom. The hallway noise fades behind them as they enter the familiar space of Mrs. Wayne's classroom.
In front of the classroom, Mrs. Wayne was sitting casually on the edge of her desk, facing the class. She is wearing a light-colored blazer with matching pants and black rimmed glasses. In her hand she is holding sheets of paper, probably the poetry analysis assignment. The classroom is arranged in rows of wooden desks with attached chairs. Several students are seated at these desks already. On the desks are various school materials such as notebooks, pencil cases and pens. The classroom has large windows along the wide wall, covered by vertical blinds that partially cover the window. "Find out usual spot," Zack says quickly, nodding toward the desks were they usually sit in the middle row, in the second row. Anna walks in behind Mrs. Wayne's desk and down the row to their desks. She passes a girl with curly red hair and brown framed glasses sitting beside a boy with curly short black hair wearing a dark sweater.
Anna sat down at her desk. "Your work is not that bad, I am actually very impressed by what I have seen so far," se continues, her words laced with honesty. She takes out her English books from her purple backpack and places them on the table. Zack follows her to their shared desk, his earlier fatigue momentarily forgotten thanks to her encouraging words. The honest compliment lands differently coming from her– not just as validation, but as proof that she genuinely believes in him. "Not that bad?" he says with a surprised laugh, sliding into the seat beside her. "Coming from the girl who gets perfect scores on every single assignment, that is practically high praise." He sets his backpack down with more purpose that usual, opening it to retrieve his own English notebook. For once, the prospect of tackling Mrs. Wayne's poetry assignment does not feel like a shore. "Maybe you are right," he admits grudgingly, flipping through his notes from last week's class. "If I actually apply myself for once instead of coasting on my charm…" his gaze drifts over to Anna organizing her books neatly on the desktop.
"You could rule the school," Anna said with a light laugh. "Especially considering how much hidden charm you do have." Zack's lips quirk into a genuine smile at her praise, the words "hidden charm" landing with surprising warmth. He is so used to others seeing him as just another bully that her belief in his potential feels like a secret they share. "Rule the school?" he scoffs playfully, leaning back in his chair. "That sounds like way too much effort. I would rather just rule you instead." His green eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary, the suggestive undertone clear in his voice. The classroom begins to fill around them– other students settling into desks, Mrs. Wayne calling out attendance from her desk and marks off the absent students on a notebook.