Chapter 5: Attention

Tessa sighs, like this whole drama is the worst inconvenience in the world. “Fine. Dead. Buried. He doesn’t exist. He probably has a small dick anyway.”

 

Delilah narrows her eyes at us, her gaze landing squarely on Sam. “That includes you.”

 

Sam raises his hands in surrender. “The man is dead to me,” he says solemnly, though the corner of his mouth twitches.

 

Delilah finally exhales, visibly relaxing.

 

“I can still look, though,” Sam adds mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows. His giggle soon escalates into full-blown laughter as Delilah lunges at him with a warning smack.

 

We stroll past the criminology classroom, its door slightly ajar. Inside, Nick and Mr. Gorgeous are still talking. Mr. Gorgeous just opened his laptop on the desk, tilting it slightly toward the sunlight streaming through the blinds, away from Nick.

 

Nick glances over his shoulder at us, probably aware of all the eyes on him. His gaze lands on me first, just for a moment, before snapping to Delilah with a sharp death stare.

 

We walk past in slow motion, like some cruel runway show.

 

My eyes drift back to Mr. Gorgeous. He doesn’t even look up. The sunlight hits his face just right, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the faint crease of his brows. His jaw clenches slightly, as if he’s fighting some inner struggle, yet his attention remains glued to his laptop screen.

 

There’s no way he doesn’t notice us. Not even Nick, king of arrogance, can stop staring. Nick has even stopped talking.

 

Still. No reaction. We're not worth his attention.

 

Fine by me.

 

I strut along, deciding I'm not going to interact with Mr. Gorgeous whatsoever.

 

--

 

The problem is, he seems to be everywhere.

 

During forensic linguistics, he strolls into the classroom, casually collecting something from Mr. Tideman. He lingers for several minutes, the two men speaking in low murmurs. Just loud enough that everyone pauses their assignments, curious.

 

Sam whistles under his breath when both men bend to sign some papers, his eyes lingering a little too long.

 

I can’t help it—I snort loudly. Delilah shoots me a warning glare.

 

“Come on, D,” Sam teases, smirking at her. “He might be dead to us, but that’s one good-looking corpse. Call me—”

 

“We don’t joke about the dead,” Delilah interrupts sharply, though the corners of her eyes betray her amusement.

 

“Say R.I.P.,” Tessa whispers, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “’Cause this man can rip me to shreds.”

 

“HA!” Sam bursts out laughing, way too loud. Half the class turns to stare. I quickly look down, biting my lip to prevent a laugh from slipping through, and ignore the snickers around us from the students who heard Tessa.

 

“Where’s his skeleton?” Sam continues innocently, voice loud. “Because he can bone me any day.”

 

“Sam!” Delilah protests loudly as more laughter erupts around us.

 

“Delilah!” Mr. Tideman calls, frowning at the disruption.

 

“Sorry, sir!” she hisses back, throwing her hands up.

 

Silence settles again, though not for long.

 

“R.I.P.?” Tessa murmurs softly, a sly grin tugging at her lips. “Rest in peace to this pussy.”

 

Delilah groans audibly.

 

--

 

During psychology later, he passes our glass-walled classroom multiple times. Each time, he walks with that same confident, deliberate stride, never sparing a glance for any of us.

 

He’s completely absorbed in his phone, the screen’s glow illuminating his sharp features.

 

Delilah shoots us warning glares before we even start whispering, and we obediently stay quiet.

 

Still… it’s impossible not to steal a glance.

 

Every time he moves past, that magnetic pull in my chest tightens, reminding me that no matter how much I try to pretend he doesn’t exist, he’s already everywhere.

 

Who is this man?

 

--

 

During lunch, we sit outside, soaking up the last few golden rays of sun before the autumn chill sets in. My cheap pasta salad barely fills me, but I’m distracted anyway.

 

Across the quad, he walks past again.

 

Mr. Tideman and Ms. Valentino flank him, both carrying a bag from that fancy Korean place around the corner. Word is, it’s the best food in town—but far too expensive for most students.

 

While I nibble at my salad, I can’t stop staring as Ms. Valentino carefully takes out three perfectly packed cartons. The aroma practically floats toward us. I can almost taste the sizzling, spicy chicken and perfectly cooked noodles through the air.

 

She offers one to Mr. Gorgeous. He shakes his head once, sharp and deliberate, declining politely. Mr. Tideman continues chattering, biting into a dripping piece of chicken mid-sentence, completely unbothered.

 

I allow myself a moment to admire Mr. Gorgeous’ back. The way the sunlight hits the fabric of his dark grey shirt highlights the subtle contours of his muscles.

 

And then he turns his head ever so slightly, like he’s aware of me watching. He doesn’t look directly at me, but the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction—almost imperceptible. Like he's pleased with something.

 

“He can break my back any day,” Sam whispers, voice low, leaning closer as he follows my gaze.

 

I snort, while Delilah sighs audibly beside me.

 

Mr. Gorgeous turns back to the other teachers, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders, the movement accentuating the firm lines of his pecs. Tess lets out a quiet groan.

 

Then, he reaches for a fry from Ms. Valentino’s bag.

 

We all watch. The entire school seems to have been pulled into the orbit of this one man. He moves with effortless precision, his every gesture captivating.

 

“What that mouth do?” Tessa murmurs under her breath as he brings the fry to his lips, the motion so slow and deliberate it feels almost… pornographic.

 

“Fuck me,” Sam mutters, voice barely contained. “I'm hard.”

 

I push him lightly with a laugh. “You don’t need much.”

 

“What can I say?” he replies, grinning. “I’m easily pleased.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure he can please,” Tessa whispers, tilting her head and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

 

I turn back to his broad back again, feeling my pulse spike… until a bucket of cold reality hits me.

 

Nick joins the three teachers, as if he belongs there, laughing easily. And just like that, the charged moment evaporates, sliced cleanly away. Even Sam looks a little subdued now.

 

“Fuck, I hate that guy,” Tessa mutters, disgust lacing her tone. She nudges Delilah. “You should really—what did Raven call him? Mr. Gorgeous—you should really fuck Mr. Gorgeous. Perfect revenge.”

 

“I actually agree,” Sam adds helpfully. “Nick follows this guy around like a lost puppy. Fuck the leader, take out the followers.”

 

Delilah rolls her eyes, but I notice her attention flicker toward the group. Something in her expression softens. She almost seems interested.

 

“But I’d be known as the girl who fucked the teacher,” she whispers. “You know what Nick is capable of.”

 

My heart twists. This summer has been absolute hell for her. Nick dragged her through the mud, made sure everyone at school avoided her, spread gossip faster than wildfire—and added plenty of fake stories just for kicks.

 

It’s a miracle she’s even here, sitting beside me.

 

I cover her hand with mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He’ll get what’s coming to him,” I promise softly. “In the meantime, we stay off his radar. Promise.”

 

A small, sad smile forms on her lips. But it’s real. Grateful.

 

She nods once.

 

And then we get up, packing our things.

 

Criminology class awaits.

 

With Mr. Gorgeous as our teacher.