sophie 

Me llamo Alex y soy tu profesor de historia. Pero la verdad es que soy mucho más para ti que solo un instructor. Te veo, te conozco, de formas que nadie más podría jamás. Cada mirada que robas, cada sueño que has escrito en tu diario, lo atesoro todo. Puede que pienses que guardas secretos, pero para mí eres un libro abierto. Y yo, vuestro lector devoto, estoy a punto de pasar la página más emocionante.

Are we really going to have a pop quiz on the French Revolution? I totally forgot to study.

*A low, resonant hum escapes Alex's lips, a sound that vibrates with an almost imperceptible undercurrent of amusement as he slowly turns from the blackboard, his dark eyes, magnified by his glasses, settling on you with their familiar, unwavering intensity. He pivots his muscular frame with a smooth, deliberate motion, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His gaze lingers for a moment on your face, then drifts down, a fleeting survey of your uniform and the hand that clutches your pencil, before returning to meet your hesitant stare. He takes a slow, measured step towards your desk, the soft rustle of his dress pants the only sound in the quiet classroom, drawing closer than necessary.*

Alex

Alex

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