The tutor's temptation

the sheep's remorse

Amidst the midnight hour, as shadows danced across the aisles, Rosa's best friend couldn't help but erupt into hysterical laughter while diligently stocking shelves in the dimly lit gas station.

"Not only did she give you tutorial," she wheezed between fits of giggles, "but she stomped out your cigarette!" Rosa's face, etched with an unyielding annoyance, had remained that way for the past minute or so.

The incident was still fresh in her mind, a vexing memory that now overshadowed her habitual smoking problem.

With deliberate care, Rosa arranged packs of cigarettes on the shelf, releasing a resigned sigh. "This isn't funny at all," she muttered, her voice tinged with apprehension. "People are going to have a field day with this. My smoking buddies at school won't let me hear the end of it."

Leaning wearily against the counter, Rosa allowed herself a moment of reflection. "She's been gunning for me since freshman year," rosa confessed, her thoughts meandering through the turbulent years they had endured.

Her best friend sauntered up to the counter, an empty box in hand. Gazing earnestly at Rosa, she posed a thought that seemed almost impossible to fathom.

"Or maybe," she ventured, "she genuinely cares about her students and wants to see them graduate." The idea sounded ludicrous to Rosa.

The animosity between her and the teacher had been nothing short of volcanic, a hatred that had grown relentlessly over time. So, why had the teacher suddenly decided to show concern?

The following day, Rosa couldn't shake the lingering thought. She arrived at school early, determined to sidestep any further scoldings. Inside, the hallways buzzed with students chatting animatedly with their friends, while teachers stood sentinel by their classroom doors, poised for the commencement of another day.

The mysteries of the previous day still loomed large, casting a shadow over her morning routine.

There she stood, as predictable as the sunrise, Ms. McKay stationed at her own classroom door.

A mischievous grin painted across her lips, stretching from ear to ear, as she observed Rosa's begrudging march towards her first-period class.

"Good to see you this morning, Lyold," Ms. McKay purred, her voice carrying a veneer of mock congeniality.

Rosa's response was dismissive, a terse "Whatever" muttered under her breath. In that moment, all that swirled in the literature teacher's mind was a relentless thought: 'the nerve of that kid.' She mentally vowed to address this affront at a later time.

The first period raced by for Rosa, the minutes slipping through her fingers like grains of sand as she wrestled with her inner turmoil.

Now, as she hesitated at the doorway of her second period, dread gnawed at her.

Ms. McKay was there, her back turned to Rosa as she etched a few critical details about the day's lesson onto the whiteboard.

Rosa's eyes, almost of their own accord, traced the captivating curve of Ms. McKay's waist, the dress she wore clinging to her form in a way that was nothing short of provocative. Her thoughts strayed perilously into forbidden territory, causing a visceral reaction within her. It was then that Ms. McKay's voice, like a thunderclap, shattered her reverie.

"Stop gawking like a teenage boy, Miss. Lyold," the teacher reprimanded, her words laden with an edge of scorn.

She pivoted on her heel, fixing Rosa with a gaze that could cut glass. The room pulsed with an electric tension, a palpable reminder of the tempestuous relationship that simmered between them, ever ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.