blurred lines in a forbidden fairytale

{15} that's how he gets the girl

A/N: I'm feeding you once again...I hope it tastes well....😁

Taylor's POV:

On Monday morning I stand at the front of the classroom, shuffling through the stack of graded papers - the surprise test I let my students write last week.
My eyes flick over each name, and my fingers tighten when I get to Aurora's. I knew it was bad when I read through it—rushed, disorganized, the essay barely meeting the requirements. She has the potential; I know she does. But this isn't it. I exhale slowly, fighting the feeling in my chest. I don't want to be disappointed, but I am. I'm not sure what I was expecting.

I begin calling out names, handing back the tests one by one. The students murmur among themselves, some faces lighting up with relief, others furrowing in frustration. Finally, I reach Aurora's. Her eyes are already on me, defiant, like she knows it's coming but at the same time somehow soft, the way they were on Friday evening in the dim light of my living room.

"Aurora." I place her paper down in front of her desk. A red 'F' is marked in the corner. Her expression shifts—just for a second—but it's enough for me to see the sting behind her eyes. She quickly looks down, her lips pressing into a thin line.

The air feels heavier, like everyone's waiting for her reaction. I try to continue as if nothing happened, but my gaze keeps drifting back to her. She doesn't look up again, her eyes fixed on the paper like it's a personal attack.

"Landon, nice job," I say, smiling at the student in the next row, but my mind is still on Aurora. The way she had looked at me when she was half-asleep on my couch—so confused and open—flashes in my mind. I wonder if she remembers any of it, or if it's a blur, washed away by the alcohol and the haze of the night.

I walk back to the front of the room, feeling her gaze burning into my back, even if she's not actually looking. I knew this would happen—knew that giving her a failing grade would set something off—but what was I supposed to do? Pretend it was fine when it wasn't? I've already blurred so many lines. I can't give her special treatment.

"All right, everyone," I start, trying to keep my voice steady, "it's just a small grade and for some of you, it might not have gone the way you hoped." My eyes scan the room, lingering on Aurora. "But there's room for improvement. We'll have plenty of opportunities to make up for it."

Aurora's shoulders stiffen, and I can tell she's not hearing any of it. Her hands clench on the desk, and I see the tension in her jaw. I half-expect her to throw the paper back at me or to say something snide, but she stays silent.

When the bell rings, everyone moves at once, shuffling out of their seats, crumpling their graded papers into backpacks. Aurora lingers, eyes still down. My chest tightens.

"Aurora," I call as the room empties. "Can you stay for a moment?"

She sighs, her head tilting back like it's the last thing she wants to do, but she doesn't protest. When the last student leaves, and it's just the two of us, I walk over to her desk. The silence feels suffocating.

"You failed the test," I say gently, as if the grade itself didn't already make that clear.
She looks up at me, and the defiance is there again, the wall she usually keeps up around everyone. "Yeah, no kidding."

I nod, leaning forward slightly. "I just want to know if you're struggling with the material. If English isn't your strong suit, that's okay. We can work on it together."

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need tutoring."

"I'm not saying you do," I reply, trying not to sound defensive. "I just want to offer help if you need it. Sometimes it's not about ability; it's about understanding where you're stuck." I pause, trying to gauge her reaction, but her expression stays guarded.