Envy - 2 by Robin Wasserman

“faculty lounge,” real y a dark, oversize closet with a few threadbare couches and a malfunctioning coffee machine.
    Students weren’t al owed in the room—it was to be a sanctuary for the underpaid burnouts whose snoozing students failed to see the applicability of algebra to a future career in tractor-pul ing, or the ability of Shakespeare to improve their application to the beauty academy. Two years ago the teachers had gone on strike, demanding shorter hours, fewer students per class, more pay; they’d received a faculty lounge.
    Kaia didn’t know any of that, of course, but if she had, she wouldn’t have cared.
    She did know she wasn’t supposed to go inside. The boldfaced NO STUDENTS sign on the door was a good tip-off. The sharp glare Mrs. Martin shot her as she scuttled out of the lounge was a better one. Teachers-only territory. No trespassing.
    Kaia didn’t care about that, either. She pushed through the door into the dark space, and there he was, Jack Powel —adorable, and alone.
    At first he didn’t see her. He was sprawled on one of the couches, reading by the dim light of a halogen lamp—the overhead lighting was about as much use as a half-dead flashlight when it came to lighting up the room, much less the page. He’d kicked his legs up on the makeshift coffee table and was poring over a thick hardcover, his face scrunched up in thought. He was completely absorbed, and failed to notice when the door swung open. It was left to Kaia to break his concentration.
    “Greetings and salutations, Mr. Powel ,” she said in a low voice.
    He looked up with an expression of absentminded bemusement; it disappeared as soon as he paired the voice with her face. He snapped the book shut in anger and quickly stood, backing away from her.
    “Did I not make myself clear the last time we spoke, Ms. Sel ers? Get out of here.”
    “Don’t trust yourself alone with me?” she taunted him. “Worried about what you might do?”
    “I’m not the one who’s worried—thanks to you, I’ve got half the school thinking I want to play Humbert Humbert to your Lolita. But I’m sure you know that already, since it’s exactly what you wanted.”
    “Al I ever wanted was you, Mr. Powel ,” she said sweetly. “Didn’t I make myself clear?”
    “Crystal. Now, did anyone see you come in here?”
    “Only Mrs. Martin,” she admitted.
    “Wel , that’s just great.” He shook his head and raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “She’l have half the town ready to lynch me if she figures out we were in here together. You have to get out of here. Now.”
    “You’re sounding a little desperate there, Mr. Powel —it’s not very becoming.” That was a lie, actual y. The sharp edge of desperation in his voice made the whole hard-to-get act even sexier.
    He paused and gave her a piercing look. It was the same intent gaze he’d given her in their very first encounter, just before explaining that even if she hadn’t been “trouble dressed up in a miniskirt,” he made it a policy not to get involved with students. That had been before she caught him trying to get “involved” with Beth, of course—it turned out the only students he stayed away from were the ones he saw as potential threats. She was too hot to handle, apparently—which was infuriating. And flattering.
    “Kaia, you seem like a bright girl,” he final y said. “Bright enough to know that you can make life here rather uncomfortable for me.”
    “I’m glad you noticed.”
    “So I’l assume you’re bright enough to understand that I can make life rather uncomfortable for you ,” he pointed out. “I could, for one, fail you.”
    “I could say it was sexual harassment,” she countered. “Retribution.”
    “I could say it was your word against mine.”
    “I could say that’s attacking the victim.”
    “And I could say the same—so it would seem we’re at an impasse.”
    “Why, Mr. Powel ,” she asked flirtatiously, “are you