“Mr. Hart?” Mira looked up, pencil poised. “You stopped mid-sentence.”
“Sorry,” he said, voice drier than he intended. “Distracted.”
His lesson plan burns. Not with knowledge, but with what if .
Mira smiled—slow, deliberate. “By what?”
She’s eighteen, he reminded himself. Your student. Your responsibility.
He froze again. This time, it wasn’t temptation. It was terror.
Freeze frame: Tutor. Temptation. The space between right and ruin.
He’d tutored a hundred students before her. But when she solved the problem and looked at him like that? Tempted tutor freeze. ❄️📚