But my happiness was short lived when the door opened and I heard a deep, rough voice- rich and low, with a velvet-coated edge that rasped gently like gravel wrapped in silk.

"You called for me?"

For a tiny second, I thought it was Bianca who had walked through the door, so I didn't bother to turn around and see who came through the door, knowing it probably would have been her.

But the moment I heard that voice-deep, rough, and smooth all at once-I knew I was wrong. It wasn't the voice of my friend, it was the kind of voice that settled into the room and made the air shift, the kind that demanded attention without raising its volume.

My stomach tightened instinctively, and I turned around towards the door, pulse quickening. And there he was-Cole Owens.

Not at all what I'd imagined, yet somehow exactly the kind of presence the principal had described. Calm, unreadable, and already carrying the weight of someone who didn't care if he belonged there or not.

He walked in like he'd done it a hundred times before, unbothered, unapologetic, and completely in control of the space around him.

He was tall and lean, his body had enough muscle to make his posture look naturally strong, and carried himself with a casual arrogance that didn't ask for attention but demanded it all the same.

But his uniform, his uniform was a mess, shirt half-tucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie hanging loose like he'd only worn it because someone made him. He was messy, and I couldn't stand looking at a messy person.

I could see a faint bruise and some black ink having the structure of a tattoo, maybe it was a tattoo, peeking out from beneath the cuff on his forearm, but he didn't seem to care-or maybe he just wanted people to notice.

My eyes met up to his face, his hair was tousled in a way that looked accidental but almost too perfect to be, with a few stubborn strands falling over his forehead. And then there were his eyes, grey in colour.

At a first glance, his eyes looked almost light-grey and clear, like they belonged to someone who didn't carry much on his shoulders, someone who floated through life untouched by the weight of it. But the moment those eyes landed on me, I felt it-that shift in the air, sharp and sudden.

The lightness was a trick, a curtain pulled over something much darker. I could feel it, his stare wasn't careless; it was calculating and heavy. The kind that made you feel like you'd been seen and judged in the span of a heartbeat.

There was something buried in that gaze-something bruised and burning just beneath the surface, and even though he said nothing, I could feel it pressing against me like a silent dare.

And then his eyes shifted to a light, playful stare and I could see there was a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, subtle but noticeable, like he knew exactly how people saw him and didn't mind living up to the reputation.

He didn't just enter the room-he filled it. And as much as I told myself I was here for a task, a grade, a name in a file... something about him made it suddenly feel much more complicated than that.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. Me, trying to gather my thoughts, and him, clearly amused by my silence. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to be steady.

"You must be Cole." His eyes flicked over me lazily, like he was sizing me up and already half-bored with what he saw.

"And you must be the babysitter," he said, his tone dry, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

Something about the way he said it, or what he said, so casual, so smug--irked me instantly. I could feel my hand twitching at my side, burning with the urge to slap that damn smirk off his face.

Babysitter? I was not his babysitter.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could even get a word out, his smirk curled into a full smile. One of those slow, infuriating ones that said 'I got exactly the reaction I wanted'. His eyes lit up with quiet satisfaction, like he was already enjoying this a little too much.

And the worst part? He knew he was starting to get under my skin.

My jaw tightened as I narrowed my eyes at him. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice clipped, irritation clearly written all over my face.

I hadn't even known him for a full minute, and he was already getting under my skin and that he knew. He was enjoying this, the slight tilt of his head, the glint in his eyes-- it was all confirmation.

He sauntered in and dropped himself into the chair beside me, slouching low with a 'don't-care' attitude that clung to him like a second skin.

He stretched one leg out, arms folded loosely, he looked like he had no intention of taking any of this seriously, and he wanted everyone in the room to know it.

He leaned back slightly on his chair and turned his head sideways to get a proper look at me, as if settling into a show he didn't intend to pause anytime soon.

"Nothing," he said with mock innocence, drawing out the word just enough to make it worse.

"Just saying, you've kinda got that responsible, uptight energy. You know... Very.....tutor. Very..... adult." His smile widened, deliberately pushing.

Maybe it wasn't what he said, maybe it was the way how he said it. Lazy, deliberate, and just taunting enough to see how far he could go before I snapped.

And I was dangerously close. But I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to flinch. I knew what he was doing-testing boundaries, pushing buttons just to see how I'd react. He wanted a reaction and he would feed off of it.

But I'd dealt with people like him before. Maybe not as sharp, not as quick, but still carrying the same look, like the world was something they'd already figured out and stopped caring about.

So I said nothing. Just let the silence stretch, let it get uncomfortable enough to shift the weight back onto him. Let him wonder what I was thinking.

But who was I kidding? I couldn't just sit there and let him get through our first meeting with his smug little remarks and childish antics. I wasn't some pushover he could toy with for fun.

If he thought I was just another helpless duckling he could scare off with a few snide comments, he clearly had something else coming for him. I leaned slightly toward him, my voice low but firm.

"If you're done with whatever you're trying to play out, maybe we can focus on why we're actually here." I kept it calm and controlled, but laced with enough edge to make sure he heard it loud and clear.

For a second, he didn't say anything. His smile vanished completely and his eyes sparkled with some new found interest.

His eyes lingered on me a moment longer, like he was trying to decide whether to be impressed or annoyed. Then, with a lazy exhale, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossing behind his head.

"Feisty," he muttered, more to himself than to me, the smile creeping back onto his face-this time less mocking, more intrigued. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at that.

I wasn't sure what to make out of this, but I knew I had his attention now. And somehow, I knew this was only the beginning.

I turned my eyes back to the principal, pretending his comment hadn't left a faint heat crawling up my neck.

The principal cleared her throat, sharp and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a warning bell. "Cole," she said firmly, giving him a look that made it very clear she'd dealt with him more than once before.

"Try to behave for once. This isn't one of your usual classroom games." Cole didn't respond, just lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, like her words bounced right off him.

Just then, the door creaked open again, and in walked Bianca, slightly breathless but still managing to flash her usual, effortless smile. "Sorry! Got lost on the way back from the world's longest bathroom break," she said with a grin, sliding into the empty chair beside me.

Her eyes flicked between me and Cole, eyebrows lifting just a little,
as if she could already sense she'd walked into something she needed the backstory for.

She tossed me a quick glance, clearly reading the tension between me and Cole, before turning her attention to the principal with an easy smile.

"Glad you could finally join us," the principal, Mrs Miller said, though her tone was more amused than annoyed. "Now that we're all here, let me go over a few things."

I caught Cole glancing at Bianca from the corner of his eye, then back at me, curiosity flickering across his face for the briefest second. I straightened in my chair, trying to refocus. It wasn't a game. It was just an assignment. One I suddenly had the sinking feeling would be anything but simple.

Just as Mrs. Miller reached for the folder on her desk, there was a soft knock at the door. A petite girl stepped in, clutching a notebook tightly to her chest. She looked no older than fifteen-small-framed, with wide eyes and a quiet, hesitant presence that made her seem even younger. Her uniform was spotless, with her hair pulled into a neat braid, and she walked like someone who was afraid to take up too much space.

"Come in, Meera," Mrs. Miller said kindly, motioning to the empty seat beside Bianca.

Meera obeyed with a polite nod and perched on the edge of her chair like she might bolt at any second. Bianca gave her a bright smile and leaned over, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret.

"Don't worry, I'm not as scary as I look. I only bite before noon."

Meera's eyes widened in confusion, and I had to stop myself from laughing. Bianca could be a lot. Loud, unfiltered, always with some smart remark ready to go, but deep down, she meant well. Still, looking at Meera's nervous expression, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her. This girl had just been paired with a human firecracker in combat boots. I silently wished her strength.

Mrs. Miller cleared her throat and straightened the papers in front of her, bringing the room back to order. "Now that everyone's here," she began, her tone slipping into something firm and practiced, "let's go over what this mentorship program actually involves."

She looked between us, her gaze pausing briefly on Cole before continuing. "As mentors, your role is to offer both academic support and personal guidance. You'll be expected to meet with your assigned student four times a week-one session here at the school, and the other three in a setting where both of you feel comfortable. That can be virtual, a café, the library, wherever works as long as progress is being made."

She paused just long enough to make sure we were all paying attention. "You'll help them stay consistent with classwork, support them through any difficulties they may face, and maintain regular communication with their teachers. This program isn't just about tutoring, it's about connection. Trust. Stability. You're not just mentors, you're stepping in as someone they can rely on."

Her eyes settled on me again, softer this time. "I believe you can handle that kind of responsibility. Take it seriously."

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