Elise's POV
Guilt had become a constant echo inside me, like a whisper that refused to fade.
Every morning, it sat there behind my ribs, tight and heavy: the knowledge that I should end things with Mason—had to end things—but couldn't. The logical part of me screamed for distance, for clear lines. But the moment I saw him, those lines blurred as if they'd never existed in the first place.
We had fallen into a dangerous rhythm: quick glances, hidden meetings, stolen moments that made it impossible to stop. Every rule I'd built for myself had been broken one by one, and I told myself each time that it would be the last.
Then he called.
"I'm already at school," Mason said, his voice low, casual. "I'm in your office. I wanted to see you."
I hesitated for a second too long before answering.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," I said finally, trying—and failing—to keep my voice steady.
When I turned to grab my bag, Carter looked up from the kitchen table where he was reviewing some work files. "You're leaving already?"
"Yes," I said quietly. "I told Mr. Jones I'd finish some reports today."
He gave me a warm smile and stood up. "Then I'll drive you. I could use a break anyway."
I wanted to refuse, to make an excuse, anything. But the words stuck. Within minutes, we were in his car, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence between us. Carter looked peaceful, untroubled—and that alone nearly broke me.
When we reached the school parking lot, he walked around to open the door for me. "You're sure you'll be fine the rest of the day?" he asked gently.
I nodded. "Of course."
He smiled and leaned in to kiss me—a soft, familiar kiss. For a second, I almost wished I could freeze time there.
"Call me when you're done," he said.
"I will."
I watched as he drove away.
And then I turned toward the building—toward the mistake I couldn't seem to stop making.
Mason's POV
Elise's office was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. I stood by her window, staring down at the parking lot below, trying to calm the storm tearing through my chest.
When I saw her car pull in, a hopeful spark flickered—until I saw him stepping out from the driver's side.
Carter.
He walked around to open the door for her like some picture-perfect gentleman. She smiled up at him, thank-you written across her face. Then he reached for her hand, leaned in, and kissed her.
That single moment stung like salt pressed into an open wound. I didn't look away, couldn't—because watching was the only way to prove it was real.
But when Carter finally got back into the car and drove off, the ache inside me twisted into something else. A reckless kind of relief. He was gone now. For the rest of the day, she was mine.
When Elise walked in, she looked startled but calm. She closed the door softly, her hair still tousled a little from the wind outside.
"Mason," she started, setting her bag on the desk. "You shouldn't be here right now. I told you—"
I didn't let her finish. I crossed the space between us, grabbed a tissue from her desk, and stepped close enough that I could see the faint color on her lips.
She blinked, confused. "What are you—?"
Without a word, I reached up and touched the corner of her mouth with the tissue, wiping gently. "You had something," I said quietly, my voice strangely calm. "From him."
Her breath hitched. "Mason…"
But before she could speak again, I dropped the tissue and closed the gap between us. My hand brushed her jaw, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek—and then I kissed her.
The contact was sharp, desperate, full of everything I'd been holding back. She tensed for a second, surprised—but she didn't move away.
When I finally pulled back, both of us were breathing hard. Her eyes met mine, a thousand emotions flashing in them at once—shock, fear, want.
"Mason," she whispered, "why—"
I didn't answer. I slipped my hand to hers, intertwining our fingers just long enough to take her bag and toss it lightly onto her chair.
Then I kissed her again.
Elise's POV
The world blurred for a moment. Logic, reason, the voice of warning—all of it vanished.
I don't know if it was the intensity in his touch or the sound of his heartbeat pressed against mine, but suddenly I couldn't think. His lips were rougher than before, more certain, every movement challenging every wall I'd ever built.
"Mason," I breathed, half protest, half surrender.
He didn't speak, just deepened the kiss, his hand tracing down my back. The warmth between us grew heavier, deeper, until my knees went weak and I gripped his arms for balance.
Then, in one sudden movement, he lifted me carefully—like I weighed nothing at all—and sat me on the edge of my desk. My breath hitched again as he stepped between my legs, his face close enough that every breath mingled.
I should have stopped him. Told him this was wrong, that someone could walk in, that Carter wasn't gone for long. But the only truth that existed in that moment was that I didn't want to stop.
So I didn't.
The world narrowed to just us and the sound of our breathing, the faint creak of the desk beneath us, the small sighs that escaped before we could contain them. For a few fragile seconds, it was everything—reckless and heart-stopping, wrong in every possible way and yet the only thing that felt real.
Then the door opened.
We froze.
"Mason?" a startled voice said.
It was Luke.
He stood there for one impossible second, eyes wide, realizing exactly what he was seeing—then he turned on his heel and pulled the door shut again, hard enough to make the frame rattle.
I sat there frozen, the spell shattered. My breath came unevenly as Mason stepped back, guilt flashing across his face.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment. Then, quietly, he reached for my hand, helped me down from the table, and whispered, "See you later."
Before I could reply, he turned, opened the door, and slipped out, following the direction Luke had gone.
The silence he left behind was deafening.
I pressed a trembling hand to my lips, as if trying to erase what had just happened—and found that I couldn't.