I stare down at Professor York’s shoes. Sensible black heels. She doesn’t need them. She must already be verging on six feet without them. I don’t say anything, waiting for the forthcoming punishment, but I sense Stone staring at me, can feel that familiar tug in his direction. Is that what it’s like to have a crush? To want someone even when you shouldn’t. Even when you know they are totally unsuitable and most probably out of bounds. Even when you hate their guts. It’s only as that last thought flits through my mind that I remember the goddamn professor can read them. Crap.
ISISKSKKSKD
