The fluorescent lights of St. Augustine High buzzed overhead as Isabella checked her watch for the third time. 5:15 PM. She should have been home by now, but instead she was stuck in the school auditorium for parent-teacher conferences on her very first day.
"Just four more meetings," Mrs. Lowell, the department head, said as she dropped a stack of folders on the table. "The Hartleys are last—they're always late."
Isabella sighed and flipped open the top file. *Evan Hartley. 19. Swim team captain.* His grades were decent, though his participation marks were abysmal. Typical popular kid coasting through senior year, she thought.
**(Earlier That Day - Evan's POV)**
"Mom! You're *again*," Evan called, shouting on his mom over the phone
"Keep your pants on!" his mother's muffled voice replied.
Evan rolled his eyes. He knew exactly why she was running behind—the unfamiliar Lexus in their driveway this morning had told him everything. Twenty minutes later, she finally emerged in front of him at school, her hair slightly mussed, her lipstick freshly reapplied.
"Let's go," she said breezily, as if he hadn't been waiting impatiently in the foyer.
Evan clenched his jaw but followed, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.
---
**(Auditorium - Isabella's POV)**
The fourth parent had just left when a well-dressed woman hurried in, followed by a tall, blond teenager who moved with the lazy confidence of someone used to being looked at.
"Ms. Winchester? So sorry we're late," the woman said, her eyes flickering over Isabella in a way that felt oddly assessing.
Evan slouched into the chair across from her, pulling out his phone without even glancing up. But when Isabella spoke, his head snapped up.
**(Evan's Inner Thoughts)**
*Wait—this is our new teacher?* She wasn't what he'd expected. Younger, for one. And that skirt... He quickly dropped his gaze back to his phone before she noticed him staring.
"Evan's last teacher said he's bright but unfocused," Mrs. Hartley said with a long-suffering sigh.
Evan barely suppressed an eye roll. "I can focus fine. Just not on dead poets nobody cares about."
Isabella studied him—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms corded with muscle from swimming. There was intelligence in those blue eyes, even if he hid it behind attitude.
**(Isabella's Inner Thoughts)**
(thoughts:Why can't this kind of boys were there during my education.)
*God, I sound like one of those giggling girls in the hallway.* She straightened her papers, forcing professionalism. "Perhaps we need to find material that engages you better."
Evan's gaze locked onto hers, his lips quirking in a half-smile that sent an unexpected flutter through her stomach.
**(Evan's Inner Thoughts)**
*Okay, maybe English won't suck this year.*
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of grades and expectations, but Isabella couldn't help noticing the way Evan's knee bounced restlessly, the way his fingers tapped against the table. There was an energy to him, barely contained.
When they stood to leave, Mrs. Hartley gave Isabella another lingering look.
**(Mrs. Hartley's Inner Thoughts)**
*She's pretty. Too pretty. I'll have to mention this to Richard at the next PTA meeting...*
"See you tomorrow, Ms. Winchester," Evan said, deliberately holding her gaze a second too long, that same half-smile playing on his lips.
Isabella nodded professionally, though her grip on her pen left a small dent in her notepad.
**(Isabella's Inner Thoughts)**
*Get a grip. He's a student. And you're... God, you're thirty-eight.*
But as she watched him walk away, the confident set of his shoulders, the way his shirt stretched across his back, she couldn't deny the heat that lingered in her chest.
**(Evan's Inner Thoughts - Walking Away)**
*That went better than expected.* He glanced back once, catching her still watching him before she quickly looked down at her papers. A slow grin spread across his face. *Way better.*
---
**End of Chapter**