Let’s fool around before we go to class

Your backpack hits the floor before the door even clicks shut. Textbooks forgotten, fingers already working buttons loose while the clock on the wall ticks toward first period.

She pulls you in by the collar, laughing against your mouth, her skirt riding up as she settles onto the edge of the desk. Morning light cuts through the blinds and stripes across her bare thigh.

There's something sharper about stolen time — the awareness that you shouldn't, that someone could knock, that you'll both have to straighten up and pretend. For now, pretending can wait.