After-Hours Lesson

Zoey spent the next few hours trying to shake the feeling that had been hanging over her since Ms. Monroe's offer. It was strange she wasn’t used to this. After years of coasting through school on minimal effort, the thought of actually spending time with her professor, discussing… math, of all things, felt like stepping into unknown territory.

What was she doing? This wasn’t Zoey Jane Devon, the girl who barely made it to class on time, the one who flirted with her friends and dodged responsibilities like a pro. She wasn’t supposed to be the type to try and impress her teacher. But something about Ms. Monroe’s quiet confidence had gotten under her skin in a way Zoey couldn’t explain.

After dragging her feet through the rest of the day, Zoey finally made her way to Ms. Monroe’s office. The hallway was eerily quiet as she approached the door at the end, a small, brass plaque reading: Ms. Agatha Monroe, Mathematics Professor. Zoey took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," came the voice from inside soft, yet somehow commanding.

Zoey turned the doorknob and stepped into the small office, her nerves suddenly rising. Ms. Monroe was sitting behind a cluttered desk, her glasses perched on her nose as she sifted through papers. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled to the brim with textbooks, papers, and a few decorative plants. A whiteboard stood in one corner, full of scribbled equations. It was a cozy, almost comforting space nothing like the intimidating presence Ms. Monroe had in class.

"Zoey," Ms. Monroe greeted, looking up from her papers, her expression unreadable. "I’m glad you made it."

Zoey felt a jolt in her chest at the way Ms. Monroe said her name. It wasn’t like before, when she’d addressed her in front of the whole class with just a hint of sarcasm. This was different more intimate, almost… warm.

"Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you were, like, serious about the whole catching up thing," Zoey admitted, feeling her cheeks flush as she walked further into the room. "I don’t usually… um, ask for help."

Ms. Monroe raised an eyebrow, setting her pen down. "I figured that much. But you showed up anyway. That says something."

Zoey shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure of why she’d decided to come. Maybe it was because, despite her laid-back attitude, she really did want to understand the material. Maybe it was because Ms. Monroe was different unlike any teacher Zoey had ever encountered. There was something about her that made Zoey feel like she wasn’t just a lazy student anymore. She was… a person.

"So," Zoey said, trying to clear the awkwardness, "what’s the deal with that equation? It looked pretty simple in theory, but when you explained it, I swear my brain just short-circuited."

Ms. Monroe smiled slightly, and Zoey swore her heart skipped a beat.

"Let’s start with the basics," Ms. Monroe said, standing up and walking to the whiteboard. "You’re having trouble with the concept of variables, right?"

Zoey nodded, trying to suppress the feeling of being completely out of her depth. "Yeah, it’s like… I get it, but then I don’t, you know?"

Ms. Monroe turned to face her, her gaze softening. "It’s okay. Most students don’t grasp it the first time. It’s all about patterns. Think of it like a puzzle. You just need to figure out the right pieces."

Zoey swallowed, feeling a strange warmth wash over her as Ms. Monroe continued explaining. She was calm, patient, not at all frustrated with Zoey’s cluelessness. There was a certain kind of grace in the way she spoke like everything was always under control, and Zoey was just a small piece in a bigger picture.

It was a weird feeling, the kind of feeling you don’t expect to get from someone you’ve only seen in a classroom. Zoey was used to seeing her professors as distant figures authoritative, often impersonal. But Ms. Monroe… Aga, Zoey reminded herself, felt different. There was something intriguing about her calmness, about the way she carried herself as if she wasn’t just a teacher, but someone who truly knew the world and how to navigate it.

After a while, Zoey found herself genuinely listening. Ms. Monroe’s explanations didn’t feel like lectures. They felt like lessons not just about math, but about life.

"Okay, so this is how it works," Ms. Monroe said, drawing a complicated-looking equation on the board. "You see this? It's not just about finding the answer. It's about understanding the relationship between these numbers, between these variables."

Zoey stared at the chalkboard, trying to follow along. Ms. Monroe’s voice was like a steady anchor, guiding her through the waves of confusion. The world outside this office felt distant, like everything was narrowed down to this moment, this room, with Ms. Monroe’s presence wrapping around her like a quiet storm.

"So, what I’m saying is," Ms. Monroe continued, her back to Zoey now as she worked on the board, "you can’t just passively absorb information. You need to engage with it. Ask questions. Be curious."

Zoey leaned in slightly, her eyes following Ms. Monroe’s movements. There was something so hypnotic about the way Ms. Monroe worked, like she was unraveling mysteries right before Zoey’s eyes.

"I guess I never thought about it like that," Zoey admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "Usually, I just wait for stuff to make sense. I don’t… engage with it."

Ms. Monroe paused, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes softened. "You’re not the only one. A lot of students do that. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters."

For a moment, Zoey thought she saw something else in Ms. Monroe’s eyes something warmer, something more than just the professional distance of a teacher. It sent a flutter of discomfort through her chest. Was she reading too much into it?

"Let’s move on," Ms. Monroe said quickly, turning back to the board. Zoey, trying to shake the strange feeling creeping up her spine, focused harder on the lesson.

The next hour passed in a blur. It wasn’t just the math. It was the way Ms. Monroe's presence filled the room, her calm energy slowly pulling Zoey out of her usual haze. By the time they wrapped up the session, Zoey realized she understood the material far better than she had in class.

"You got it," Ms. Monroe said with a satisfied nod as she looked over Zoey’s notes. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Zoey’s lips tugged into a small grin, more to herself than to Ms. Monroe. "No. I guess it wasn’t."

Ms. Monroe gave her a small, approving smile. "I’m glad to see you took it seriously. I can tell when students care. It makes all the difference."

Zoey’s heart skipped. Was that a compliment? Her usual cocky, carefree demeanor seemed to falter under Ms. Monroe’s gaze. She wasn’t sure why, but the simple praise made her feel something… something she wasn’t ready to admit.

"Thanks," Zoey said quietly. "I—I’ll try to keep up from now on."

"Good," Ms. Monroe replied, her tone lighter now, almost amused. "And if you ever need help again, you know where to find me."

Zoey nodded, suddenly aware of how close she was to Ms. Monroe. She quickly grabbed her backpack, wanting to escape the tension that was slowly building between them.

As she turned to leave, she paused at the door.

"Ms. Monroe…" Zoey started, her voice hesitant. "You’re… not so bad for a teacher."

Ms. Monroe’s lips quirked in a half-smile. "I’ll take that as a compliment, Zoey."

Zoey grinned, though it was nervous now. "Yeah, well, don’t get used to it."

With that, she quickly left the room, her heart racing as she tried to process what had just happened. She wasn’t sure where this was heading, but one thing was for certain: Zoey Jane Devon’s college life had just become a lot more interesting.

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