Elise's POV
The next morning, I stood at the front of the art classroom, pretending to look fully in control while supervising the students. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the scratch of brushes on canvas. It was peaceful—at least, it should have been.
But it wasn't.
Even without looking, I knew someone's eyes were on me. That silent pull, heavier than curiosity, lingered in the air. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my clipboard instead, walking slowly between easels to jot down notes on progress. Every few steps, though, that awareness crept back. Someone was watching.
Supervising wasn't a hard task. My job was simple: guide, record, and encourage. Still, every time I reached his side of the room—Mason Cole's side—my pulse picked up slightly. I hated that it did.
He looked entirely focused on his work, sketching carefully, almost too carefully, as though his brushstrokes were more deliberate when I was near. When I stopped beside him to observe, he'd greet me with that calm, knowing smirk. Just enough to make me look away first.
By the time the bell rang, I felt oddly breathless.
Later that day, Mr. Jones called me into his office to assign additional duties. "Since you have a background in psychology," he said kindly, "we're appointing you as the temporary vice counsellor until Ms. Green returns."
I nodded, caught off guard but honored.
"You'll be responsible for mentoring and providing basic guidance," he added. "Students might come to you if they need advice or counselling. I'll make the announcement during my daily rounds."
That was fine, I thought. Helping the students emotionally wasn't new to me—it was something I was trained for.
Mason's POV
The moment I heard Mr. Jones' announcement, something inside me sparked.
Vice counsellor.
And not just any kind—temporary, which meant she'd be available. For private sessions.
I probably should've taken the information like a normal student would—with indifference—but I wasn't exactly known for doing things the ordinary way. A plan immediately began to form in my head.
If she was giving counselling, then that meant any student could book time with her. So the next morning, I walked up to her office during lunch and politely asked if I could "talk about some stress issues."
It worked.
She gave me a look—mildly suspicious—but she agreed. Sitting across from her in that small office, with the smell of coffee and printer ink and the quiet tick of the clock, felt strangely comfortable. I told her about school, about art, about "dealing with expectations." None of it was untrue—it just wasn't the real reason I was there.
By the end of the first session, she asked if I wanted to schedule regular appointments. I did.
And then another. And another.
A week passed, and soon visiting her became part of my routine. Morning, lunch, after school if she was still around. She didn't say much about it at first, but I could tell it was starting to bother her. Her sighs grew longer, her responses sharper. Yet she never told me to stop coming.
To me, that meant she didn't really want me gone.
Elise's POV
"Mason," I finally told him one afternoon, after yet another unannounced visit, "you've been coming here every day. I appreciate your openness, but this office isn't just for you, you know."
He smiled faintly, leaning back in the chair. "I know. But talking to you helps."
I folded my hands on my desk, forcing a professional tone. "Mason, I think what you need isn't counselling—it's distance."
His brow arched slightly. "Is that your way of telling me to stop visiting?"
I hesitated. "What I'm saying is that you might be—investing too much interest—in something that's not… appropriate."
He met my eyes directly, expression steady. "So you've noticed."
Silence. Thick and still.
My chest tightened. "Mason… you're my student. You need to understand your place. You shouldn't blur the line between admiration and something else."
The words came out softer than I intended. I meant them as a warning, but they sounded almost pleading.
He didn't argue, didn't apologize. He just smiled—subtle, assured—and ko
And that was that.
Except it wasn't.
Mason's POV
Her words should've stopped me. If anything, they only sharpened my focus.
I knew I was toeing a line I shouldn't cross. I also knew I wasn't going to step back. I couldn't.
Elise Morgan wasn't like anyone else in this place. She was different—not perfect, but real. She tried so hard to set boundaries, but every time she let her frustration show, I could tell she cared more than she wanted to admit.
To most of the teachers, I was just another kid who joked too much and drew too often. But when she looked at me, I felt seen. That was rare. Dangerous, maybe. But so was she.
Her rejection didn't turn me away—it fueled me.
So I started testing little ways to get her attention. Volunteering during class. Asking more questions. Staying late to clean brushes or sort the supply shelves. Each time she'd sigh, maybe roll her eyes—but she'd still let me stay.
That was good enough for me.
Elise's POV
Maybe I should've been stricter with him. Maybe I should've reported his unnecessary visits or dismissed his small, lingering smiles. But every confrontation ended the same way: him walking away with that same quiet confidence, and me left staring at the door after he left.
The walls I'd built, the ones that had always kept my emotions in check, started to crack. Bit by bit.
It started with curiosity—wondering what he'd say next, what expression he'd have when he walked through the door. Then it grew into something harder to ignore—a faint warmth when he spoke, a strange lift in my mood whenever he was around.
I told myself it was nothing. Just part of being kind. Just part of being human.
But deep down, I felt it—the slow, heavy sway of something dangerous.
And despite every reason I had to resist, I could already feel myself beginning to lose my grip.