I knew giving her a ride was a bad idea… but how could I say no?

She used to be my student—young, off-limits, and always a little too bold for her own good. Now, she's older, confident, and sitting in my passenger seat with that same teasing smile, pushing my patience to the edge. Every glance, every word, every lingering moment between us stirs something I've tried to bury.

She isn't a kid anymore, and she knows exactly what she's doing. The question is—how much longer can I pretend I don't want this?