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She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
It does, but trust will take time, and what I did to her last night has fucked up the usual process of a headmaster winning over a new student. “Shall we talk about the three credits you need to graduate?”
She exhales, then sits primly across from me.
“I’ve heard you have an independent thesis project.” Her back gets even straighter. “I want to do that. And take whatever class it is you don’t teach, so no creative writing.”
She knows a lot for having only been in the building ten minutes at most. “Would you take creative writing if I wasn’t teaching it?”
“Would you not teach it so I can take it?”
“Absolutely.” I would resign my whole damn position if it was what she needed to graduate.
She leans back in her chair. “You’re not like other headmasters.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I force myself not to linger there, wondering what she would look like naked, her arms pressed against her slight breasts, nipples peeking out at me.
I never even got her tits in my mouth.
I should hope I’m not like other headmasters. I’m a fucking pervert. It’s obviously a newly gained problem, and one I’m not sure how to handle. I close my eyes, which doesn’t help, because then she’s naked in my mind.
Clenching my fist against the edge of my desk, I force myself to pretend she’s anyone else. Stacey, the office helper this morning. What would I say to her?
“If you do an independent thesis, what would your area of interest be?”
“What are my options?”
“Something that builds on your previous areas of interest. Do you prefer science or the arts?”
“Arts.”
“Comparative literature, then?”
She smirks. “Can I compare Jane Austen to modern retellings?”
I won’t raise to the bait of her smirk when the question is entirely appropriate. She needs to learn her experience here will be different from whatever trauma she had in the past. “Of course.”
Her gaze narrows. “What about fan fiction?”
It’s on the line for a senior thesis, but I know Mrs. Taylor will guide her appropriately. “It’s a good direction.” I encourage her. “Our English Lit teacher will be a great advisor. You can ask her about the wizard world fic she writes.”
Lily’s eyebrows hit the roof. “What now?”
I grin. “Welcome to Edgewood Academy. We do things differently here.”
“How different?”
I take a deep breath. “Not differently enough that we can repeat last night.” Unfortunately. “But we will do our best to foster your curiosity over the next three months and help you get to the next stage in your academic career.”
“That’s a good line.”
“It’s the truth.”
Her chest rises and falls, matching my controlled inhale. “What would you say if I wanted to take creative writing? With you?”
I should say it is a bad idea. I should regretfully decline to teach the seminar this term because I am a bad man who made a big mistake. But there will be other students in the class, and another teacher can grade her final assignment. I sometimes ask for help when my workload gets to be too onerous.
