Alison has a new look

There is something different about Alison when she shows up for breakfast the next morning. She looks younger somehow and less confident. Her face is fresh and clean but lacking any makeup and her outfit feels a little off too. The sleeveless blouse leaves her throat and some of the skin on her chest exposed but is charming in its modesty and instead of the tight jeans that show off her long legs she's got on a frumpy skirt that falls below her knees. I get the feeling this outfit is something her mother would have approved of far more than the revealing tops she usually wears.

Most of all though, what I notice is the lack of that mischievous smile that I've started to look forward to every morning. In fact, I get the sense that we were about to have a serious conversation.

“You OK, Angel?” I ask as I hand her the box of Special K. Had we gone too far this weekend? Did this pretty coed finally come to her senses? Suddenly it feels two degrees colder in the room; it isn't even so much that I wasn't going to have a hot teenager to fuck any more, I had started getting used to opening up to someone ...

“Promise me you won't be mad at me, Mr. Patterson?” Alison's doe-eyes look up at me sadly and I can't help but smile at her reassuringly even as I prepare myself.

“I could never be mad at you, Honey.” I turn away to the coffeemaker, so she won't see the pain when she gives me the bad news. “Go ahead, Alison. Say what's on your mind.”

“I know this is wrong, Mr. Patterson. I know I'm just one of your students, but I'm afraid I can't stop thinking about you.” It takes me a few seconds to process what she is saying, in fact I spill a little of the coffee as I fill the mug when I realize that my tenant is not putting an end to our agreement but is instead diving straight into my schoolgirl fantasy. More than ever I'm glad I was facing away from her, but now it is my smile of relief and anticipation that she doesn't see.

“What do you mean 'thinking about me', Miss Miller.” I do my best to sound stern as I turn back to the table and hand her the coffee.

“I'm sorry, Sir.” She stares down at her uneaten bowl of cereal. “I think I have a bit of a crush on you.”

“Miss Miller, this is a very serious matter.” I keep my voice calm and cool as I scold the 'smitten' student. “Perhaps you should speak to a counselor about this, Mrs. Walker has dealt with this kind of thing in the past.”

“Oh, I couldn't, Mr. Patterson,” Alison is quick to shoot that safe option down, “it's too embarrassing.”

“Well, you're going to have to figure something out young lady, because I can't have you mooning over me in class.”

“I know, Sir.” She really sounds like a love-struck student, but then again, she's only a couple years away from actually being in high school herself, so I guess it's not that much of a stretch. “I know someone like you could never be interested in a nerd like me. I'm not even very pretty-”

“Ha!” I stop her self-depreciating with a snort. “Trust me Miss Miller, you are one of the prettiest students I've had the pleasure to teach.”

“Really, Sir?” Her question is a mixture of surprise, hope and skepticism. “If I'm so pretty, how come no one has ever asked me out? I haven't even been kissed yet.” The simple statement hangs like a burning invitation. If this actually was one of my students for real, it would be awkward but since we're just pretending there are all sorts of possibilities ...