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Ms. Hontiveros POV

Mondays. Always a bit of a mess, aren't they? The class had that sleepy, sluggish vibe, like half the students were still in their weekend haze. The rest looked like they'd rather be in any other room, any other place, far away from this one. I didn't blame them.

I was probably the same way when I was their age-dragging my feet through the motions until the bell rang.

But this Monday, I had a plan. A little something to wake them up. And nothing did the trick quite like a surprise quiz.

"Alright, everyone," I said, using my teacher voice, the one that sliced through the chatter like a hot knife through butter. "We'll start with a quick quiz. Don't worry, it's just to see how much you've absorbed from last week's lessons. Shouldn't be too bad."

There was the usual collective groan from the class, followed by the usual attempt at pretending they weren't all frantically trying to recall everything they'd forgotten since the previous week.

I handed out the papers, keeping a neutral face. But inside, I was grinning.

And then I got to Alice Guo's desk.

There's something about Alice-sharp, but not always present. She's the type who's always somewhere else in her head. In class, she's often doodling in her notebook, zoning out for a second before snapping back to reality, her eyes wide, as if she'd just woken up.

The girl was an enigma wrapped in a school uniform. The kind of student you can't help but watch.

I placed the quiz paper down in front of her. "Good luck, Alice," I said softly, making sure my voice was calm, warm.

Her head shot up so fast I was half-convinced she was going to knock something over.

Our eyes locked, and for a brief, glorious moment, she looked like I'd caught her sneaking in the back door of a candy store. I could practically see the gears turning in her head-What did I do? Did I mess something up? Is she mad at me?

"Th-Thanks," she stammered, her voice small and trembly like she was trying to hide in her own skin.

I couldn't help it-I suppressed a laugh.

There was something about Alice's awkwardness that was just so... real. So genuine. It wasn't like the usual forced shyness I'd seen before. This was authentic-and it made me want to tease her just a little bit.

I turned and moved on, but I kept her in the corner of my mind as I made my rounds, handing out quizzes to the rest of the class. It wasn't long before I felt her eyes on me again.

It started as a brief glance, like she was just checking to see if I was looking at her. But then it lingered. Oh, I thought, we're doing this now, are we?

I pretended to focus on my tablet, but I could feel her eyes on me like a weight. It wasn't a threatening kind of stare. No, this was the kind of gaze that made you wonder if she was trying to figure you out.

I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

I glanced up from my tablet. Our eyes met once more, and I could see her face flush red in the span of a second.

"Is there something wrong, Alice?" I asked casually, not letting any hint of amusement slip into my tone. I was pretty good at keeping things neutral, but I could feel a smile creeping onto my lips.

Her whole body froze. And then, in the softest voice ever, she squeaked, "I-uh-no, ma'am!" Her face turned into a tomato, and she practically glued her eyes to her quiz paper, as if trying to make herself disappear.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. This was just too good.

"Just checking," I said, turning back to my tablet as if nothing had happened. But inside, I was grinning. Man, she's adorable.

The rest of the quiz passed in a blur. The usual scribbling, the occasional groan, the tapping of pens against desks.

But every now and then, my eyes would drift back to Alice, who was so clearly trying to act normal, even though she couldn't hide the nervous energy rolling off her like a tidal wave.

When the quiz ended, I did my usual rounds, collecting the papers. As I approached Alice's desk again, I could see her fidgeting, clearly trying to shrink into her chair as if it would swallow her up. She was avoiding eye contact like it was her job.

I paused in front of her desk, lowering my voice just enough so only she could hear. "Next time, try to relax," I said, offering her a small smile. "You seemed a little distracted today."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide, and for a moment, I thought she might say something, but she didn't. Instead, she nodded rapidly, her cheeks still pink from the embarrassment.

"I'll-uh-work on that," she mumbled, barely audible.

I couldn't help but smile wider. "Good girl."

And then, because I couldn't resist, I added, "You know, you're not the first student to stare at their teacher like that."

Her eyes widened even more. She was probably imagining a thousand scenarios, all of them horrifying. But I wasn't actually going to embarrass her.

"Relax, Alice," I said, turning to leave, "You're doing fine."

As I moved away, I caught myself smiling again.

It was funny how easily Alice could make me feel like I was back in high school, watching someone awkwardly try to navigate the complex world of teenage emotions. She wasn't my responsibility, not really-not like I had any claim to her attention-but there was something in the way she reacted, so openly, so genuinely, that made me wonder what was going on in that head of hers.

This year was shaping up to be a lot more interesting than I had first anticipated.