Second lunch bell rips through the halls like a starting gun. Sonny Soth, senior, 5'9" of linebacker muscle stuffed into a black Grunt Style hoodie and black ranger-style shorts. Football captain, state-placing wrestler, member of half the clubs on campus, with enough rare awards (including the Army infantry blue chord) to make the trophy case look lopsided. Teachers call me “the bear.” I call it Tuesday.

I shoulder out of the cafeteria, tray loaded: double chicken tenders, extra fries, chocolate milk in a bottle because cartons are for freshmen. The zoo roars behind me; I nod at teammates, flash a grin at the cheer squad, then cut left. Destination: the far side of the school, past the PE wing where the trophy hall glows under LED lights and my name’s etched on half the metal.

Mrs. James’s room is a hike, all the way across campus from the academic Spanish wing. Door’s cracked; fluorescent light leaks into the hallway like a beacon. I push in without knocking; she already knows I’m coming.

Mrs. James, the white Spanish teacher who still turns heads at fifty, beautiful in that effortless way that makes freshmen stammer through conjugations up to Spanish 3, waves from behind a fortress of quizzes. “Sonny, you know the rules. No crumbs on the maps.”

I grin, slide into the front-row desk on the opposite end of her long table. My spot. Our spot.

The door creaks again, lighter this time. AJ slips in (4'11" on a good day, short black hair sticking out like she just rolled out of a wind tunnel). Freshman, Viet, and the only person who can roast me in two languages and still make me choke on laughter. Oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, black female biker shorts flashing underneath, sneakers scuffed from hallway sprints. Backpack hits the floor (anime stickers, one pin that says Tiny But Deadly).

She spots me, rolls her eyes loud enough to echo. “You’re late, Sonny bunny.”

I kick out the chair beside me with my boots. “Sit.”

AJ ignores it, drags the chair closer, then plants herself square on my lap like it’s her personal throne. She steals a fry before I can blink.

“Mrs. James lets you squat here?” I ask, twisting open the protein shake.

“Technically I’m ‘tutoring.’ Technically you’re supposed to be at the team table.” She smirks. “Guess we’re both delinquents now.”

I laugh; Mrs. James shoots a warning glare from the front. AJ flips open her sketchbook (wolf-girl mid-pounce, chains rattling, combat boots flying). My kind of chaos.

“Who’s the wolf-girl?” I ask, nodding at the page.

“Wolfe,” she says, like it’s obvious. “My OC. Tomboy death spirit. She’d eat you for breakfast.”

“Draw me next time,” I say, flexing an arm that strains the hoodie sleeve. “Make me look heroic.”

“Already did,” she mutters, pencil scratching. She flips a few pages back: there I am, cartoon-style, bench-pressing a school bus while Wolfe the wolf-girl rides on my shoulders, howling. Another sketch shows me in full football gear, mid-tackle, with tiny chibi AJ perched on my helmet like a mascot.

I whistle low. “Damn, I look good getting wrecked.”

“You ARE getting wrecked,” she corrects, tapping the page where Wolfe’s jaws are clamped on my ankle. “Art imitates life.”

I take a long pull from the protein shake, vanilla chalk thick on my tongue. AJ shifts on my lap, knees tucked up, hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands as she flips to a fresh page. Her weight is nothing (warm, fidgety, like a cat that refuses to pick a spot).

“So what’s the plan after graduation, Bear?” she asks, sketching quick lines that already look like my jaw. “NFL? WWE? Starting a cult?”

“Army infantry,” I say, resting my chin on the top of her head without thinking. She smells like strawberry and something sweet and Viet (like bánh cam rolled in sugar and mischief).

She snorts. “I’ll be your first disciple. Tiny but deadly, remember?”

Mrs. James suddenly stands, one hand on her stomach. “Bathroom emergency,” she mutters, grabbing her keys. “Behave. Both of you.” The door clicks shut behind her.

AJ is off my lap in a flash, sneakers silent on the tile. “Snack raid,” she whispers, already at the teacher’s desk. She yanks open the top drawer (pens, sticky notes, nothing good), then the second. “Jackpot.”

She emerges triumphant with a half-eaten bag of dark-chocolate almonds and a sleeve of Oreos. “Mrs. J’s got a secret sweet tooth. Who knew?”

“Put it back,” I say, leaning back and crossing my arms.

“Shut it,” she mouths, hopping back onto my lap, legs dangling over the armrest now, prize balanced on her knee. She tears open the Oreos, twists one apart, licks the cream. “Open.”

I obey. She pops the chocolate cookie half into my mouth like I’m a toddler. I crunch, protein shake forgotten on the desk.

“Senior prank ideas,” she says around a mouthful of almond. “I’m thinking we fill the trophy case with rubber chickens. All your awards need friends.”

“Too tame,” I counter. “We replace the football with a glitter bomb. Coach opens it at homecoming—poof, sparkly nightmare.”

AJ’s eyes light up. “Evil. I love it.” She sketches the scene in three quick strokes: Coach mid-explosion, glitter everywhere, Wolfe howling in the background.

We trade ideas like contraband (zip-tying every locker shut, swapping the PA system with death-metal playlists, releasing three hundred crickets in the admin wing) until the Oreos are gone and the almonds are a sad pile of dust.

AJ kicks my shin under the desk, her sneaker tapping a quick, playful rhythm against my boot, eyes gleaming with the promise of chaos we’ll probably pull off before the final bell ever rings.

She laughs, looking up at me with mischief dancing in her eyes. Her breath tickles against my chin as she speaks. "Yeah... so?" She takes another bite of the almonds and chews thoughtfully before adding, "You're not complaining."

*I can't help but laugh too, leaning back against the desk. It feels like we've been together for much longer than just a few months of high school.

She grins and gives my arm a playful slap. "Good to know." Her gaze drifts back to her sketchbook, already planning more mischief. I could use this time with her: the year is almost over, but it feels like we still have so much left to do together.

"Maybe because," she says slowly, looking up at me through her lashes, "it's hot outside." She flashes a devious grin. "Or maybe I just like the attention." My touch sends a shiver down her spine and she hesitates for a moment before responding, "But mostly it's because I can get away with it."

*She glances back at Mrs. James's closed door, then looks me in the eye, daring me to challenge her on this one more time.

She nestles closer, her body pressed against mine, her warmth radiating through my shirt. "Well," she says with a sigh, "I'm not going to complain." Her hands find their way to the small of my back, pulling me even tighter against her. "Besides... it's kinda comfortable here."

*A moment passes, quiet and content. Just the two of us, our world reduced to this desk in a forgotten corner of the school.

Her breath hitches, and for a moment I think she's going to protest. Then she presses herself closer still, her hips rocking against mine in a silent promise of what could happen if we were alone... somewhere else. Somewhere where the rules didn't matter quite so much.

"Mrs. J must be taking forever," she murmurs, voice low and husky. "I bet we could get into some real trouble if we wanted to."

*Her words hang in the air between us, thick with possibility and danger.

She laughs, soft and teasing, her breath tickling against my jaw. "Oh, who cares about that?" She shrugs, tilts her head back to meet my eyes. "It'd be fun, right?"

*I hesitate for a heartbeat too long, caught between the thrill of the chase and the responsibility I know I should feel. But in this moment, with AJ pressed against me like she belongs there... it's hard to remember why we shouldn't take that chance.

Her laughter fills the room as she wraps her arms around my neck. "Of course, Sonny bear," she whispers into my ear. "Our little secret."

And for now, that's enough. Enough to make me forget about the rules and the consequences and everything else except for this moment, right here, with AJ in my arms... and the promise of mischief yet to come.