Sensei turned and headed for the door, her posture so rigid it was a miracle her spine didn't snap. Even then, there was a subtle, hurried rhythm to her step. The sharp clack-clack-clack of her heels on the linoleum echoed through the hollow, empty hallways, sounding like a ticking clock in the dead silence.
I followed a few paces behind. The school after hours felt… heavy. Intimate in a way that made my skin prickle. The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of her—something floral and expensive that seemed to cling to the walls. I kept my head down, struggling to find a place for my eyes to land that wasn't the perfect, rhythmic sway of her hips right in front of me. It was the most distracting view I'd ever seen in my life, and it was doing nothing for my heart rate.
She stopped at a door marked Sayaka Natsume: Office and fished a silver key from her bag. The office was exactly like her: clinical, organized, and smelling faintly of paper and perfume. A few textbooks were stacked like towers on her desk, and a lonely potted plant sat on the windowsill, looking as parched as I felt.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to a chair while she moved behind her desk.
The leather of her chair creaked as she settled in. She crossed her legs—a slow, deliberate movement that pulled her tight skirt up way too high, exposing a smooth stretch of her panties. She looked composed, but her eyes were searching mine. "Now, about this detention…"
"Sensei, look," I blurted out, my voice sounding a bit too desperate. "I wasn't trying to cause a riot. This is all Aya. She dragged me into it, and I was just trying to get her to shut up so we could actually finish the lesson."
Her eyes narrowed, tracking my expression. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "I see. and what exactly was Miss Aya doing that required your… vocal intervention?"
She sounded professional, but there was a flicker of something else—curiosity? Or maybe she just wanted to see if I'd fold.
"It was… well, the button," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I couldn't help but glance at the gap in her blouse. "Aya wouldn't stop talking about it. She was saying it 'looked better open' and that you should just 'keep it like that.' I told her to knock it off. Please, Sensei, don't tank my grade for this. I'll stay for the whole month, I'll do the work—just don't bury me."
Sayaka leaned back, her fingers drumming a soft, hypnotic beat against the wood. Her face softened, just a fraction. "I appreciate the commitment, Romy. But a promise doesn't balance the scales of a disrupted classroom."
She reached up to adjust her collar, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her movement only made the blouse gape wider. My pulse thudded in my ears. "Since Aya has conveniently vanished into thin air, you'll be helping me with administrative work after school. Think of it as… an alternative detention."
She locked eyes with me. It was a challenge. A warning. And maybe a little bit of a dare. "Are we clear?"
Clear? My brain was a fog of hormones and heat. I just wanted to get out of there before my body betrayed me. "But what about Aya? Why am I the only one getting the hammer here?"
A flash of genuine annoyance crossed her face. "Aya will be dealt with. I have my ways of ensuring she understands the weight of the rules. Her next pop quiz is going to be… an experience."
A small, almost predatory smile touched her lips. It was the kind of look that made you realize she knew exactly how to make someone squirm. "Now, I have a mountain of filing. Shall we start?"
She slid a heavy folder across the desk. Her fingertips lingered on the edge of the paper a second too long, her nails catching the light.
"Wait, now?" I stammered. "I thought we'd start tomorrow. It's getting late, and I still have the homework you gave us. I need to get home."
She glanced at the clock, then back at me. Her gaze swept over me, and for a second, the stern teacher mask slipped. "Fine. Tomorrow after class. But don't be late."
She stood up, the movement fluid and sharp. As she walked me to the door, the afternoon sun caught the loose edges of her blouse, casting long, suggestive shadows. "And the homework—I expect perfection. No shortcuts."
Her gaze lingered on me at the door. It was unreadable, heavy, and it followed me all the way down the hall.
When I arrived at home, I practically collapsed the second I hit my bed. My head was spinning. "What a disaster," I muttered into my pillow. I thought summer school would be a boring slog, not… whatever this was. A month as her personal assistant? I didn't know if I had the self-control for that. She had this charm, this gravity, that was impossible to ignore.
I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep, only to be jolted awake the next morning by my phone screaming at me from the nightstand. I groaned, squinting at the screen. Sayaka-sensei.
"Hello?" I rasped.
"Romy. Why did it take four rings to answer?"
"Uh… I was dead to the world. Why are you calling this early, Sensei?"
"Get to the academy. Now. My office. You're my assistant, remember?"
I rubbed my eyes, checking the time. "Class isn't until ten. It's barely nine. I've got an hour."
"Class starts at ten for the students," she snapped. "Assistants start now. Get out of bed and get here in ten minutes, or I'm doubling your hours."
Click.
"Are you kidding me?" I groaned, throwing my sheets off.
Ten minutes later, I was sprinting through the school doors, out of breath and disheveled. I reached her office and stopped short.
She was leaning against her desk, her legs crossed, waiting for me. And for some reason her shirt was still the same, unbuttoned. Exactly like yesterday. The view was a vivid, physical reminder of everything I'd been trying to forget all night.
She didn't look happy to see me. She was frowning, her arms crossed over that revealing gap in her blouse, her eyes tracking my every movement as I walked into the room.