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Official Mentor… My Ass
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2025-05-22 10:00:53Monday arrived dressed in fake peace.
Whispers still floated around the classroom like pollen during allergy season, but at least they weren’t allergic to my existence anymore. No more daggers shot from every angle, no more symphony of gasps every time I breathed too close to Nick. Just muted curiosity and a few gossipy glances that I could pretend to ignore.
So yeah. I was surviving.
Nick and I sat like we always used to—not too close, not too far. A deliberate kind of distance that said: Yeah, we know each other. No, we’re not dating. Yes, you can shut up now.
And then, just when I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d made it to the other side of the scandal tunnel, the universe stood up, grabbed a mic, and screamed:
“NOT TODAY, BITCH.”
Because right after one of Mr. Wright’s driest lectures yet—seriously, he was quoting Byron like it was a eulogy for joy—he looked straight at me, e
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Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Official Mentor… My Ass
Monday arrived dressed in fake peace.Whispers still floated around the classroom like pollen during allergy season, but at least they weren’t allergic to my existence anymore. No more daggers shot from every angle, no more symphony of gasps every time I breathed too close to Nick. Just muted curiosity and a few gossipy glances that I could pretend to ignore.So yeah. I was surviving.Nick and I sat like we always used to—not too close, not too far. A deliberate kind of distance that said: Yeah, we know each other. No, we’re not dating. Yes, you can shut up now.And then, just when I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d made it to the other side of the scandal tunnel, the universe stood up, grabbed a mic, and screamed:“NOT TODAY, BITCH.”Because right after one of Mr. Wright’s driest lectures yet—seriously, he was quoting Byron like it was a eulogy for joy—he looked straight at me, e
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Just Coffee and Cold Wind
As I left the group chat, feeling like I had just slammed a door in someone’s face without even meaning to, my phone buzzed again.A new message.From Nick.Nick: “Don’t think anything about it. You know I’m here for you—and I always will be.”Just that.One single sentence.And yet it was more than anyone else had said to me all day.Not a question. Not a pity-soaked “Are you okay?” or “What did they say?”Just... him. Quiet. Solid. Like a wall I could lean on without needing to explain why I was collapsing.And God, I loved that.Maybe I’m becoming addicted to that kind of support.Maybe that’s exactly why I was ever drawn to Mr. Wright in the first place.Because before Nick, before this chaos, before the rumors and the hallway and the suffocating need to either scream or disappear—there was him.Cristiano Wright.
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Hallway Ghosts and Razor Eyes
Worst of all?Cristiano Wright saw us.Nick and me. In the hallway.His eyes locked with mine. His gaze—cold, unreadable, razor-sharp. He didn’t say a word.But his silence screamed.It happened right after that goddamn meeting.After the too-white office with its fake plants and real judgment.After the smiling ethics teacher who spoke like she was brushing my hair but kept twisting it until it hurt. After the clipboard scribbles, after the word inappropriate floated between us like a curse no one dared to say out loud.After I walked out with my skin buzzing and my stomach in knots, wondering if everyone already knew.I didn’t even make it five steps from the office before I saw him.Nick.Leaning against the wall, scrolling his phone like he didn’t just rearrange his whole lunch break to wait for me. Because of course he did.He looked up, caught sight of me, and immediatel
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Whispers and Lies
Oh, the rumors?They don’t just spread—they erupt like a teenage wildfire with glitter, venom, and no mercy.Here’s what goes down after detention, in all its chaotic, dramatic glory.By the next morning, the school was buzzing. Like, hornet-nest-was-kicked levels of buzzing. I hadn’t even stepped into the damn corridor yet, and I could already hear it. The whispers. The smirks. The side-eyes.It was like every locker I passed whispered "slut" in stereo surround sound.“Did you hear what happened in Mr. Douglas’s class yesterday?”“Nick Morgan threatened Kayla with nudes—said he had her tits on his phone or something!”“All because of Alina. What is she, some kind of witch? Got that b
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Say That Again, Bitch—See What Happens
It was one of those classes where the teacher didn’t give a shit anymore.The fan clicked uselessly above us, swirling the heat like an insult. Half the class was either sleeping, doodling, or pretending to “take notes” while texting under the table. Mr. Douglas, our world history teacher, was old enough to have lived through half the textbook and bored enough to read it like he was allergic to punctuation.I was trying my best to be invisible. Again.Head down. Eyes on my notebook. Pen in hand—but the ink had run out fifteen minutes ago. Didn’t matter. No one was paying attention to the lesson. But they were paying attention to me.Again.“There she goes, the slut of the season,” Kayla whispered behind me with a sugar-sweet giggle.I froze.Of course.Of course it had to be Kayla fucking Reynolds. Queen of whispers. Dictator of locker room rumors. She never missed a single chance to po
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths What Dress?
After what felt like years of academic torture compressed into four soul-shattering periods, the three of us finally made it to the cafeteria like survivors crawling out of war trenches.Nick, Mia, and me.A new trio. Unofficial, but functional.Nick was adapting fast—laughing with random classmates, waving at people like he’d known them forever. Classic Nick. Still, let’s not pretend he was doing it all on his own. His smooth transition? Yeah, that was me.You’re welcome, universe. (Smirking face. Insert wink.)We grabbed our trays, ordered the usual mess the school claimed was food, and sat at a table in the corner, the one where the sun hit just right—warm enough to feel human but not enough to melt your soul.It was time. I’d put it off all morning, but I couldn’t avoid it anymore.“Mia, this is Nicholas Blake Morgan,” I said, gesturing across the table. “Nick, this is Mi
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Miss Hart?
Class began like any other Monday morning—slow, painful, and entirely unnecessary.Except… something was off.From the moment Mr. Wright walked in, I felt it. That... thing. The heat. The pressure. Like someone turned the classroom thermostat to judgmental inferno and then dared me to stay still under it.I wasn’t even looking at him.Okay, maybe I glanced. Once. Twice. Fine—three times. But it wasn’t intentional. It was more like a reflex. Like when you check to see if someone who ruined your life is still breathing.And he was. Oh boy, he was.Standing there in his signature crisp shirt with his sleeves rolled just above the elbow—because of course he had to show off those brooding forearms like they were part of the curriculum. His hair looked like he’d lost a fight with sleep and won anyway. And his face… well. Still sinfully unreadable. Sharp jaw. Quiet fury. Those glacier-blue eyes that
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Welcome Back, Nicholas Morgan
The next day came too damn soon.I barely slept. Not because I was haunted or heartbroken or overthinking like usual—but because, for the first time in five years, I was actually excited. Giddy, even. The kind of restless joy that makes your toes curl under the blanket and your stomach buzz for no good reason.I woke up before my alarm. Before Mia’s godawful K-pop ringtone screeched through the room. Before the sun fully bled through the curtains.And I got ready.Like, properly.Washed my hair. Put on the blue sweater he once said brought out the stars in my eyes—whatever that meant. Wore actual matching socks. Even brushed my hair instead of letting it air-dry into a tangled bird’s nest like usual.Mia didn’t say a word. Not last night. Not this morning.No teasing. No interrogation. No dramatic reenactments of yesterday’s hallway chaos.She just gave me a weird look, soft and unreadable, b
Silent Flames, Forbidden Paths Nick?
I knew it the moment our eyes locked again—we had too many questions buried between us, all sharpened by time and silence, clawing to surface. But this? This wasn’t a conversation meant to be squeezed between poetry metaphors and Mr. Wright’s dry sarcasm. This wasn’t something that could happen under fluorescent lights and a ticking classroom clock.So, I did what any emotionally fried, half-rehabilitated, still-grieving girl would do.I ditched class.I grabbed Nick’s hand like it was the anchor I’d been searching for in the middle of my storm and yanked him down the hallway, past the chaos, the bells, the whispers behind hands and turning heads.We slipped out the back stairwell like fugitives, adrenaline pumping, the rush of rebellion fizzing through my veins like soda bubbles.It wasn’t just about avoiding Mr. Wright’s class.It was about breathing.It was about space.It was
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