The next morning

The sharp rap of knuckles against his office door startled John from his paperwork—three brisk taps that could only belong to one person. Before he could call out, Elizabeth White breezed in, balancing two steaming coffee cups in one hand and a pastry bag in the other. The rich, nutty aroma of freshly brewed espresso filled the room as she kicked the door shut with her heel.

"Morning, boss," she sang, plunking the cardboard tray onto his desk. A drop of coffee sloshed over the rim, staining the paperwork beneath it. "Oops. Consider that my abstract contribution to your budget report." She grinned, tossing her sleek dark hair over one shoulder as she settled into the chair across from him. Her pencil skirt hugged her hips just enough to be distracting, and the way she crossed her legs made the fabric ride up another inch.

John cleared his throat, reaching for the coffee. "You’re in a good mood."

Elizabeth took a slow sip from her cup, watching him over the rim with those gold-flecked hazel eyes. "Tutoring go well last night?" she asked innocently, though the way her toe tapped against his desk leg suggested she already knew the answer.

John felt heat creep up his neck. "Fine. We covered elasticity of demand." He focused intently on stirring his coffee, though he hadn’t added any sugar.

Elizabeth smirked, swirling her coffee with deliberate slowness. "You know," she murmured, "Elasticity of demand *can* be such a... hands-on topic." She arched an eyebrow when John choked on his sip. "Relax, I‘m just teasing you. But promise me one thing—keep our golden girl happy. Captaincy looks good on her."

John set his cup down harder than intended. "She's a bright kid. Doesn't need special treatment."

"Mm." Elizabeth uncrossed and recrossed her legs. "Still." She leaned forward, the neckline of her blouse dipping just enough to reveal the lace trim of her bra. "I’d be *so* grateful if you kept giving her those... extra lessons." Her manicured fingertip traced the rim of his coffee cup. "I’ll do *Anything* you need, Principal Lee." The way she stressed the word sent heat curling low in his stomach.

John exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his tie. "Elizabeth—"

"Relax, I’m kidding." She winked, popping a bite of croissant into her mouth. Crumbs dusted her lower lip, and her tongue darted out to catch them. Mostly. "Mostly," she amended, grinning at his expression. "Seriously though—thank you. Emily’s thriving, and that’s what matters." She stood abruptly, smoothing her skirt. "Oh! Speaking of thriving—the fall mixer’s next week. You *are* coming, right? The girls’ll riot if their handsome principal skips."

John leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he smirked at Elizabeth. "Wouldn’t miss it. Someone’s got to chaperone before you turn it into a bacchanal."

Elizabeth gasped, pressing a hand to her chest with theatrical offense. "Me? Corrupting innocent minds?" She winked, gathering her clipboard and coffee. "Please. They corrupt themselves just fine—I merely provide the venue."

The door clicked shut behind her. John exhaled, rubbing his temples. The mixer. Right. A room full of eighteen-year-olds in cocktail dresses, all giggles and lingering glances.