ONE
The clock ticked by slowly as Rachel sat in her English class, bored out of her mind. She considered it her easiest class; writing had always been her strong suit. Unfortunately, this led to an overconfidence which made her unprepared for her tests, which she didn't bother to study for. She could bullshit her way through the essays easy enough, but it was clear to Dan Hadder, her young teacher, that she was only getting by on a minimum of effort.
When class was over, Dan called Rachel to stay behind. The freshman girl sighed, annoyed at the request, but not really surprised by it. She supposed she couldn't just slack off forever; this was college after all, but honestly, how could she be expected to pay attention when she'd learned most of this stuff in High School already?
Dan sighed a little as Rachel gave him an annoyed look. He couldn't keep cutting her breaks, however. If he didn't learn to be firm with his students, his teaching career would be a joke. "Rachel," he said, calmly, keeping his eyes on her face. "Your performance in your school work has been lacking. I can see that you are very bright, and can easily grasp the material, but you don't put in any more than a minimum effort. Just because you are bright doesn't give you the right to slack off. I've given you the benefit of the doubt thus far, but I can't keep giving you a pass if you aren't going to at least try." Dan waited to see her reaction, hoping she wouldn't be as dismissive of his words as she was of her work.
Rachel watched him with a bored expression, her grey eyes glancing over him. He was certainly a cute one, which was really the only reason she even paid him even half her attention. When he paused, she pursed her lips together as she carefully eyed him over. "I don't see what the problem is," she said. "I do the work. Why isn't that enough?"
"Because just doing the bare minimum isn't going to get you ahead in life," said Dan.
Rachel shrugged. "Why does it always have to be about getting ahead? Life's not a rat race. Or at least, it shouldn't
have
to be."
Dan scowled. "Don't take this the wrong way, but if that's your attitude, why are you even in college?"
Rachel blanched at that. "Wow, thanks teach. You're confidence in your students really shines through."
Dan shook his head. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, you clearly
do
have some ambition, some drive to do better, but you can't always just pick and chose what you can put your effort into. Sometimes you have to work hard at things you don't care about."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay,
Dad
."
Dan sighed, frustrated, unsure how to get his student to see his point. "Okay, you know what? Forget it. Keep doing what you're doing. Just don't get upset when your grades start dropping. We're a month into the semester, I can't keep being this lenient."
Rachel frowned. She dropped her school books and bags on the floor and leaned over his desk. Dan was suddenly very aware of her deep cleavage; as with all the young students (who honestly weren't that much younger than him, truth be told), he had learned steel himself against their gorgeous looks. He could not let them influence him with titillation. Still, seeing Rachel lean forward, smiling bright at him as she gave him a full view, it was hard not to ogle her. He knew exactly what she was up to, however, and he would not fall for it.
"Come on, teach," she said. "Can't you cut me a little slack? It's just I've got so much on my plate—"
Dan held up a hand. "Rachel, please. If my class is honestly too much work for you, then you should drop out, and get a refund on the money you can still get back. Or, you should transfer to another class that can better accommodate you."
"But I can't!" said Rachel, frowning. "I just... well..."
Here it comes
, thought Dan.
"I think you're, you know... really cute!" She looked to the side, smiling bashfully.
Dan could tell immediately it was an act. He stood with an exasperated sigh. He hadn't expected to run into this problem so soon into his career. "No," he said simply. "No, we're not doing this."
Rachel blinked, surprised. "Wh-what do you mean?" she said, giving him a wide-eyed innocent look.
"Just stop, Rachel," he said, grabbing his briefcase. "I'm not playing that game with you."
Rachel pouted. "But I'm telling the truth!" she said. She stood and stepped close to him, putting a hand on his arm.
"No, you're not, and I'm not going to listen to any more!" he said, yanking his arm away. He paused at the door, then turned. "Listen. This is how it's going to be: I'm going to forget what you just tried to do. You are going to start putting more effort into your work. If you try this again, and if I don't see any improvement in the next week or two, then I'm kicking you out of my class. Understood?"
Rachel, looking more stunned than anything, nodded dumbly. Dan let out a breath and gave her a small smile. "Alright, then. That's that. No need to make this a bigger deal than it has to be. Have a good weekend." With that, he left.
Rachel stared after him, stunned for a few moments. Then her expression darkened. She looked herself over and hmphed. She knew she was hot stuff. A cheerleader's figure with chestnut curls, cute dimples when she smiled, perfect teeth, and grey eyes many a boy had told her were entrancing. Still, it had been presumptuous to assume that the same tricks that worked on her small town High School teachers would work on a more worldly college teacher, even one as young as Dan.
Rachel smiled. Perhaps it was time to step up her game. Dan really was a cute one, not quite her type at first glance, but his unexpected resilience suddenly made him a lot more appealing. She held up her hand, and a small ball of black flame appeared in the palm. Dan was going to be in for a surprise tonight; Rachel wasn't just a bright girl with a rockin'-hot bod. She was
