The ceiling fan was a total loss. It just churned the stagnant, humid air around the room, making it feel like we were breathing in someone else's sweat. Outside, the cicadas were screaming in that high-pitched, electric drone that always makes you feel like your brain is about to fry. Everyone else was at the beach, probably half-naked and covered in salt water, but here I was—Romy, the lone guy in a room full of girls, trying not to let my eyes wander while my shirt stuck to my back like a second skin.
I was face-down on my desk, my arm acting as a damp pillow. Next to me, Hina was being her usual, infuriatingly composed self. She was flipping through a textbook the size of a tombstone, her long hair tucked neatly behind her ears, not a single drop of sweat on her. A few rows back, Aya was a complete mess. She was sprawled out in her chair, legs kicked out, her phone held precariously over her face. Every few minutes she'd let out a groan that sounded more like a death rattle and mutter something about how much this sucked.
Then, the sound of heels—sharp, rhythmic, and impossible to ignore—echoed down the hallway.
The door swung open, and Sayaka-sensei walked in. She looked way too good for a woman trapped in a sauna. Her white blouse was stretched tight across her chest, tucked into a pencil skirt that seemed to emphasize every curve of her hips. As she dropped a heavy stack of papers on the desk, the thud felt like a gavel.
"Sit up, Romy," she said, her voice cutting through the heat. "This isn't a bedroom, though I'm sure you're used to spending your afternoons horizontal."
I bolted upright, my face flushing as I blinked away the brain fog.
Aya didn't even look up from her screen. "Sensei, come on. It's like a hundred degrees. Why are we rotting here while the rest of the world is getting laid at the beach?"
Sensei adjusted her glasses, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe if you'd spent more time studying and less time worrying about your social life, you wouldn't be here. This is your second chance. Don't waste it."
Aya finally sat up, a bratty smirk on her face. "Don't you have a boyfriend, Sensei? Or are you just a sadist who likes watching us suffer?"
I saw it then—a faint, sudden bloom of pink across Sensei's collarbone. "That is none of your business, Aya."
Hina chimed in without looking up, her voice like ice. "You failed because you're lazy, Aya. Some of us actually have reasons for being here. Right, Romy?"
Aya whipped around, eyes flashing. "Oh, shut it, Miss Perfect. Why are you even here then? Did you forget how to read for a day?"
Hina stiffened, her fingers gripping the edge of her book. "I… I was unwell during the finals."
Aya let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Unwell? What, did you have a cramp? Give me a break."
SLAM!
Sensei hit the desk with a textbook. "That's enough. I'm not running a daycare. If you want to pass, shut your mouths and open your books."
The room went dead, the only sound the frantic buzzing of the cicadas. I sat there, staring at the back of Sensei's neck, watching a single bead of sweat slide down into the collar of her blouse. I muttered, "This is hell."
Sensei's eyes locked onto mine. She put her hands on her hips, a movement that pulled her blouse even tighter, making the buttons look like they were under a lot of structural stress. "It's only hell because you made it that way, Romy. Now, Algebra. Page 147."
I fumbled with my bag, my mind definitely not on math. Hina was already writing. Aya was just staring at her book with pure hatred. "Ugh, Math. Can't we just talk about something interesting? Like, why Sensei wears those heels if she's just standing at a board?"
Sensei shot her a look that would have killed a lesser student. "Aya, one more word and you can spend the rest of the day in the hall."
Aya grumbled and opened the book. I leaned over, keeping my voice low. "Pst pst! Aya. You want some gum?"
She flinched, quickly covering a sketch she'd been working on—a very NSFW drawing of Sensei and some faceless guy. "Shh! You trying to get us caught? Give me some."
I slid a piece of blueberry gum under the desk. She popped it in, her jaw moving rhythmically. But Aya being Aya, she couldn't help herself. She blew a massive bubble, and when it popped, the sound was like a firecracker in the silent room.
Sensei froze mid-equation. She turned around slowly, her heels clicking ominously as she walked toward Aya's desk. She looked ready to tear her a new one. But as she stepped past a stray backpack, her heel caught.
Her eyes went wide. She gasped, her hands flying out to catch herself, and she went down hard. She landed on her hands and knees, her chest hitting the floor with a soft, heavy sound.
The silence was absolute. Hina looked horrified. Aya's gum-chewing stopped instantly.
As Sensei pushed herself up, her face was the color of a ripe tomato. She tried to brush her hair back, but as she stood, we all saw it. A button had snapped clean off. Her blouse was gaping open, the fabric straining to stay together, revealing a clear view of a black lace bra and the deep swell of her cleavage.
"Sensei… you okay?" I asked, my voice cracking like a damn teenager's.
"I… yes. Fine." She was shaking, her fingers fumbling with the edges of her shirt. "Hina, lead the class through the worksheet. I'll… I need to go to my office to fix my attire."
She practically ran out of the room, her heels a frantic mess on the linoleum.
Aya leaned over, a predatory grin on her face. "Whoa. Did you see that? Guess Sensei's got a bit of a wild side under that suit."
"This is your fault," I hissed, trying to ignore the way my pulse was hammering in my throat.
"My fault? You gave me the gum!" She poked me, her eyes dancing. "Besides, I bet you're glad I did. You were staring so hard that I thought your eyes were gonna pop out."
"Shut up," I snapped, shifting in my seat to hide the fact that she wasn't entirely wrong.
The door creaked open. Sensei was back. She looked like she'd tried to splash cold water on her face, but she hadn't fixed the shirt. She couldn't. The button was gone. She marched to the front, her blouse hanging open in a deep, distracting V that showed way more than it should have.
"Let's continue," she said, her voice high and tight. She kept her back to us, but every time she reached up to write on the board, the gap in her shirt widened.
I couldn't take the tension. "Uh, Sensei? It's… it's still open. Your shirt."
She tensed up, the marker hovering against the whiteboard. She stayed like that for a long five seconds before turning around. Her eyes were sharp, defiant, even though her face was still burning.
"I am aware, Romy. Unless you have a needle and thread in your bag, I suggest you stop staring at my chest and start staring at the board." She gestured at the math, but the movement only made the blouse shift further. "Now, are there any academic questions?"
Aya stifled a laugh. Hina looked like she wanted to die. I just nodded, my mouth suddenly very dry.
"Good," Sensei said, her voice trembling just a hit. "Then let's move on to the next example."