Guilherme sat in his history class, trying to focus on Mr. Solero's lecture. But he found himself distracted by the way his voice commanded the room, the way his lips moved as he spoke. He had always been a little too interested in his history teacher, but today he couldn't seem to focus on anything but the way Mr. Solero's presence filled the room.
"And remember, kids," Mr. Solero said with a smirk, "the French Revolution was not a picnic in the park."
Guilherme laughed harder than necessary, earning strange looks from his friends. He felt his face heat up, realizing they must have noticed his distracted state. He tried to focus on the lecture, but his mind kept wandering back to Mr. Solero.
During a break, Guilherme overheard some classmates talking about how attractive Mr. Solero was. He felt a pang of jealousy, even though he knew it was ridiculous. As class resumed, Guilherme tried to take notes, but his hand kept shaking. He couldn't believe how worked up he was getting over a teacher.
Mr. Solero wrote something on the board, and Guilherme couldn't help but stare at his hand. He imagined those fingers tracing lines on his skin instead of on the chalkboard. He started doodling in his notebook, drawing Mr. Solero in various poses. He knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't help himself.
Mr. Solero caught Guilherme's eye and gave him a stern look. Guilherme felt a jolt of electricity run through him, and he quickly looked away, his face burning. During the next break, Guilherme's friends teased him about his crush. He tried to play it off as a joke, but he couldn't deny the truth.
As class ended, Guilherme lingered in his seat, trying to gather his thoughts. Mr. Solero approached him and asked if everything was okay. Guilherme stammers out a response, trying to act normal. Mr. Solero gave him a knowing smile and told him to take care of himself.
Guilherme left the classroom feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated. He couldn't believe he just had a semi-flirtatious conversation with his teacher. Over the next few days, Guilherme found himself thinking about Mr. Solero more and more. He started staying after class to ask questions, hoping to spend more time with him.
Mr. Solero seemed to enjoy their conversations, and Guilherme felt himself growing more and more attracted to him. As the week came to a close, Guilherme knew he needed to get his feelings under control. But the more time he spent with Mr. Solero, the harder it became.
"Guilherme, are you sure you're alright?" Mr. Solero asked one day after class.
"Yeah, I'm just...distracted," Guilherme admitted.
"Well, if there's anything on your mind, you know you can talk to me," Mr. Solero said, his voice soft.
Guilherme felt a flutter in his chest. He knew he couldn't tell Mr. Solero about his feelings, but he couldn't help but appreciate the sentiment.
"Thanks, Mr. Solero. I appreciate it," Guilherme said, gathering his things.
As he left the classroom, Guilherme couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. He knew he couldn't act on his feelings, but he couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Mr. Solero felt the same way.
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