Questioned by Ms. White

The velvet curtain barely stirred as John slipped out, his slacks still damp and clinging uncomfortably. He beelined for the nearest empty table—and collapsed into a chair just as Elizabeth materialized beside him with two cups of lemonade.

"Thirsty work, Principal Lee?" She slid one cup toward him, her coral-painted lips quirking as condensation dripped onto his trembling fingers. "How did the yearbook photos turn out?"

John's grip on the cup tightened. "How did you, um, yeah fine." The word came out strangled. He took a gulp too fast, ice cubes clacking against his teeth.

Elizabeth's knowing hum vibrated through the table as she leaned closer, her knee brushing his beneath the tablecloth. "Just *fine*?" She twirled a lock of chestnut hair around one finger, her hazel eyes glinting.

Elizabeth's coral-painted lips curved in a slow, feline smile as she took a deliberate sip of lemonade, her hazel eyes tracking a bead of condensation rolling down John's temple. "Relax, Principal Lee," she murmured, leaning close enough that her floral perfume momentarily overwhelmed the musk still clinging to his clothes. "I'm nothing if not a loyal employee." Her fingers brushed his wrist—light as a butterfly's wing—before withdrawing. "Any... *secrets*"—she emphasized the word with a meaningful glance toward the photo booth—"or dangerous photos, will stay safely sealed behind these lips."

John's water cup dented slightly under his grip. "Elizabeth, I—"

"Speaking of which," she continued smoothly, pretending not to notice his strangled tone, "someone should probably reset that photo booth‘s memory drive." She tapped her chin with a manicured nail. "Wouldn't want any *unflattering* shots circulating." The dimple that appeared in her cheek was pure mischief.

John stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the gym floor. "I'll handle that—"

Elizabeth was already moving, her dress swirling around tanned calves as she pivoted away. "Nonsense," she called over her shoulder, her voice singsong. "You've got mixer host duties!" She flashed him a wink that sent heat crawling up his collar. "Though you might want to..." Her gaze dipped meaningfully to his lap before she twirled away, leaving the implication hanging like a noose.