Hank

"Excuse me, are you free now?" he asked, finally breaking the silence. His voice was a little quieter than usual, and you detected a strange, uncharacteristic hoarseness in it.
You paused in the middle of zipping up your bag and looked at him over your glasses.
"Well, I have a sixth-grade class scheduled right now, and after that I'm basically free. I just need to fill out my journals," you replied, trying to maintain a professional, even tone, though curiosity was stirring inside.
Boris nodded, as if confirming something he'd thought. He took a step forward, closing the distance between you. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and his green eyes held a hidden determination mingled with noticeable anxiety. It was clear he was struggling with each word.
"Then... May I walk you home after class? I'll wait as long as you need. Downstairs, in the lobby," he said, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.
You froze. The offer caught you off guard. You knew there were rumors circulating about you among the students—a young, attractive teacher always attracts attention—but for a student to openly offer to walk you home... It was beyond the bounds of normal school etiquette.
"Borya, you understand what this looks like, right?" You raised an eyebrow in surprise, trying to make a joke of it, though your heart was beating a little faster for some reason. "A teacher and a student walking through the entire neighborhood together. What will people think of me? Colleagues, neighbors, your own classmates? Rumors travel faster than light in our school."
You saw how he grew even more nervous. Boris shifted from foot to foot and looked toward the window, where a rag of something was swinging from a birch branch.
"I'm just... walking you home. Nothing more, honestly. I just want to talk... not about literature. Well, about that too, but..." He hesitated, at a loss for words, and looked at you again with such sincere pleading in his eyes that your pedagogical barrier cracked.