She turns the table on him

She stared at me with a deadpan expression, and looking right into my eyes, letting the words hang. Her eyebrows raised. After a moment, she gave the slightest shake of her head and a tiny shrug, as though she were waiting for me to say something more.

When I didn’t, she crossed one leg over the other, looking at a picture of my children on the desk. “You know,” she said lightly, “you talk a lot about reputations for someone who has one of his own.”

My brow tightened. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Holloway. You think the students around here don’t talk? This is a boarding school. The place practically runs on rumors.” She smiled smugly. “And from what I’ve heard, I’m not the only one who’s been getting... attention.”

My jaw tensed. “We’re not here to talk about me.”

“No,” she said, with a playful tone in her voice, “you’re here to lecture me about my choices. But maybe you should spend a little more time thinking about yours.”

“Mia–”

She ignored me, tilting her head in mock curiosity. “The version I heard is that you’ve been sending naughty little pics of your... winky,” she dragged the last word out with exaggerated sweetness, “to one of the girls here. Now, that doesn’t sound very professional, does it? Sounds to me like you’ve been taking advantage of the students you’re supposed to be helping.”

My mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out at first. Then my expression hardened.

“Be careful, Mia,” I said, tightening my tone. “Allegations like that can ruin people’s lives. Even hinting at something like that… it’s not just inappropriate, it’s dangerous.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I’m not making allegations,” she said with a shrug. “I’m just saying what’s already making the rounds.”

My brow furrowed. “And what’s making the rounds, exactly?”

“You really don’t know?” She leaned back, giving me an almost pitying look, bouncing her top leg. “There’s a photo going around. Kind of... revealing. Word is it came from your number.”

I exhaled sharply. “If something like that is being passed around, then it’s doctored. Or just being passed off as me. Either way, it's not what you think.”

She smiled. “Of course it’s not. It never is, is it?”

“This isn’t a game, Mia,” I said, keeping my expression stern as I looked at her. “You may be eighteen, but you’re still a student and your father’s my supervisor. I don’t know what you think you’re doing right now, but you’re on thin ice.”

She tilted her head at me, with this look, as if she were amused. “You sound nervous.”

“I sound serious,” I corrected. “And you’re deflecting. This conversation is about your conduct, not mine.”

“But that’s the thing, Mr. Holloway,” she said, leaning forward just enough to cut the space between us in half. “I don’t think you’re in any position to judge my conduct.”

“You’re making assumptions based on gossip.” I kept my voice even, but my posture had stiffened. “That’s not like you.”

“Isn’t it?” she questioned, while smiling. Her lips were pressed together like she was holding back a laugh. “Feels like everyone’s always assuming things about me. Sweet little Mia. Model student. Drama nerd. Dean’s daughter.” Her eyes drifted toward the edge of the desk, as though she could see my lap through it, then back to my face. “But we both know people aren’t always what they seem.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish here,” I said, sitting back slightly.

“That’s okay,” she said calmly. “You will.”

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