A/N: I got this idea from Swan Queen AU week and after reading a few of the student/teacher fics, I decided to try it out myself. I hadn't gotten the time to review it, so please excuse any mistakes. Please R & R and tell me what you think!
Warning: Rated M for language and future chapters
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
It was that day of the year again. That day that marked the end of summer vacation as the school bells rang once again after three months of hibernation. It had been dreadfully hot this summer, leaving little days to be enjoyed. This day was no exception even though, as Emma Swan would have thought it to be, the end of summer. Really, though, summer wouldn't end for another month.
But still, this day would be the end of the late nights playing video games with her friend, Graham. The two wanted to spend as much time with each other over the summer, since he would be moving to Boston for college. It would also end the nights out with Ruby, and sometimes Belle, as they went about town, sneaking into various parties held by some of the recently graduated seniors. Her friend Ruby, being one of them, threw her own little party for herself and Graham.
The four friends had decided to keep cool and stay indoors for a majority of the summer. Hence was why they mostly engaged in said topics throughout their break.
Although, now, all of that was over. Emma couldn't sleep in until noon every day. Instead, she had to wake up in the early morning, a time she sometimes went to bed after playing a marathon of her favorite game with her buddies. The morning hour of seven o'clock caused the blonde teen to groan as she hit the dismiss button on her phone.
School. Emma took the liberty to dub Storybrooke High as Hell. Most of the students there were too chipper, nice, snobby, or rude. They were opposite Emma, who liked it quiet so she could read and do work in peace. She steered clear of them, usually, but in her classes, there was always at least one that would have to be sat next to her, and, that would ultimately ruin her entire year. Hopefully she'd be able to pick her seat in the upcoming classes. It was her senior year, after all. Perhaps they would oblige to her wishes. But, then again, teachers never really do.
Grudgingly, Emma dragged herself out of bed and picked out an outfit consisting of her usual black attire of jeans, a t-shirt, and an overlarge hoodie. It may have looked insane that she would wear such attire outside in this sweltering heat, but the school was like Antarctica inside. The idiots that run the school apparently had no idea how to control the temperature.
Shaking those thoughts from her head, she picked up her phone and checked if she had any messages. Ruby had promised to text her in the morning before her shift started at her grandmother's diner.
Despite graduating from high school, the brunette girl had decided to stay in Storybrooke to help her elderly grandmother with the diner. Of course, her granny had insisted that she hadn't needed the help, although the collapse in the storage room months prior had told otherwise.
Emma was glad that she wasn't leaving, although that may be selfish of her. She only had Belle to talk with in school now, and with Graham leaving, she had no one else outside of school to hang with. Hopefully one of the girls would be up to playing the new game system that she had gotten for her birthday over the summer as their male friend had.
Speaking of Ruby, a smile crossed over her face as she saw a text from said girl.
Hey, Swan. Ready for a new day in Hell?
She chuckled and shook her head, the Hell joke about school between the four never got old. As far as they knew, the principal was the devil and the teachers his little minions.
Emma hit send and set her phone down so she could quickly strip from her sleeping attire and don the casual clothing that she set out. Then her phone buzzed again, lighting up with a new message from Ruby.
The blonde teenager dropped onto her small, twin-sized bed with a pair of boots. Simultaneously checking the message and pulling her boots on, she read what her friend had replied.
Good luck. Sorry I can't be there.
Emma smiled sadly and replied with an, it's okay, I'll survive.
There soon was a knock on the wall of Emma's bedroom, which had made the blonde look up. A woman with short, black hair stood in the doorway with a friendly smile on her face. The colors she wore were quite pastel and very conservative. The woman standing there was her mother, Mary Margaret.
Mary Margaret Nolan, along with her husband David Nolan, had adopted Emma into their family just a year and a half ago. The young girl's parents had, what she assumed, abandoned her at an orphanage and left her to be tossed from family to family every time she did something that they didn't like. She had yet to do just that with the nice, young couple that had taken her in. Somewhere deep down, she knew that they wouldn't. The two wore fresh and loving smiles on their faces and they were all too eager to have her lodging in their small loft.
Emma was dubious about the two at first upon her arrival. The apartment was small and run down. It seemed to be on the ghetto side of Storybrooke. Or so she thought, at least. The town was pretty immaculate and quiet. Teenagers and drunks were the only problem that the sheriff's station had, because word travels fast and she was sure if something much larger and important were to happen, she would hear of it immediately. After all, her new father worked at the station as the sheriff.
Whatever judgements and accusations she had towards the Nolans, though, quickly vanished when they provided her with everything that they could afford, including her very own room equipped with an older laptop model. Emma hadn't minded at all, for it would be the very first of her own.
Emma and Mary Margaret had hit it off quite well and the blonde soon learned that she and David had been too busy to try for a baby at the moment. They wanted kids, but it was too hectic for them to care for a little one while also juggling with their jobs. They had heard about the foster care system and had become immediately interested in signing up to take in an older teen. Of course, the blonde, upon hearing this, was a bit angry that they were just using her as a filler for their own desire for children, but her resentment soon vanquished as the two grew on her. She was more than happy to oblige to whatever they tried to include her in. It had always been a losing fight to win over her previous foster parents' affection, especially the ones that only used her as a check for their own selfish desires.
Here, despite such a small age difference between them, Emma felt wanted for the first time since the very first family she was put into. They were concerned enough to ask her how her day was or what was wrong if she were to show any sign of distress. Although, the teen could admit that they could be quite smothering.
"Hey," the blonde greeted the woman in her doorway with a smile.
"Are you ready for your first day of senior year?" Mary Margaret asked, pushing herself from the door frame. "You look pretty."
Emma blushed slightly at her comment as a slender finger flicked a blonde curl from her face before cupping a cheek. "Thanks."
"I made breakfast. Might as well eat before we head off to school." She chuckled.
"I guess," Emma shrugged slightly and bent to grab her backpack that leaned against the bed. She slung the bag over her shoulder and walked behind her foster-mother.
"At least take a piece of toast before you leave." The brunette woman pleaded. She knew that Emma never really ate breakfast in the mornings. Her foster daughter usually liked to take the extra time to sleep and just dart out the door after getting ready.
"Fine." Emma playfully rolled her eyes. "For you."
"Thank you, Emma." Mary Margaret quickly wrapped her arms around Emma, leaving the teenager to stiffen momentarily before awkwardly hugging her back. "See you later, okay? Love you. Have a good day and tell me about your classes when you get home!"
"Love you, too and I will!" The blonde sheepishly replied, pulling away so she could jog down the stairs. Footsteps behind her told Emma that Mary Margaret was following on her trail towards the kitchen, probably to make sure that she would grab that toast.
After toasting up a piece of bread, Emma quickly left the apartment and started on her way to school. She preferred to walk, even though Mary Margaret had offered many times to drive her since the high school only a few blocks before the elementary school where she worked. Emma had politely declined until wintertime when the pixie-haired woman had insisted on taking her to school. The blonde teen reluctantly obliged, secretly glad that she had since it there were usually nasty storms during that time.
Often times she carpool with Ruby, but since her friend had graduated this year, she was out of luck. And now she really wished that Ruby was still attending school because it was hot as hell and she was already drowning in her own sweat. Slowly, she regretted ever putting on this damn hoodie.
After what seemed like an eternity in the grueling heat, Emma had finally arrived. Students were scattered through the halls, most standing and chatting with friends that they hadn't seen over the summer. The myriad of voices in the air very nearly gave Emma a headache. There was always a reason why she hated school. It wasn't so much for the courses, no, but the students instead.
She made haste to get away from the crowd, maneuvering every which was so she could get through and find her home room. She surely hoped not many people would be in there right away. Silence already seemed so nice. With that on the brain, she continued to push through the people stuffed in the main hallway, but not before she had run right into another body. Or so to say, they ran into her.
"Watch it," a voice warned, but then stopped as eyes met her own. "Swan."
"Killian." Emma gritted through her teeth, forcing a smile on her lips.
"Fancy seeing you here."
"It's school. Of course I'm here." She rolled her eyes.
Killian had always been on her trail like a damned lost puppy ever since her arrival to Storybrooke high. She knew the boy had an infatuation with her, for if his constant following her around was not evidence enough, he shamelessly flirted with her. She told him several times that she was not interested, but all he kept saying was that she would change her mind eventually. But little did he know that, that would never come true. She just wasn't interested in any man, but of course, she wouldn't say anything. Why not have a little fun in teasing him?
"Where are you headed?"
"Oh? Ms. Nova isn't in there."
Emma rolled her eyes. Did she mention that he even had his home room changed so he could be in it with her?
"She usually has her door unlocked."
"Where's your shit?" The blonde quirked a brow, finally looking over the boy in front of her. He had nothing on him. Not even a pencil.
"Yeah. Move. I wanna get my schedule." She pushed passed him, hoisting her backpack further on her shoulder as it began to slip again.
"Yeah! I wonder if we have any classes together." His brows waggled as he caught up with her.
Emma looked at him and rolled her eyes again. "Knowing you, probably. You stole my schedule before the break."
"Pft." Killian smirked and followed her into Ms. Nova's classroom.
"Emma Nolan!" A light and cheery voice greeted the blonde as soon as she dropped her bag by the desk she usually took towards the back of the room. Her head raised to see Ms. Nova step towards her with a piece of paper in hand.
"It's Swan," she corrected.
"Right. I'm sorry. I was just reading the name on the schedule." she smiled apologetically, handing the paper over to Emma. "Are you excited for senior year?"
"As excited as I'll ever be." She drawled in response, her eyes glued to the paper. "Thanks."
"What do you have first period?" Killian's voice immediately broke the momentary silence as Ms. Nova walked away and Emma's eyes roved over the paper in her hand.
"First period I have composition." She said, looking up at his crestfallen face. "What? Don't have it?"
"No. I took comp last year." A small pout formed on his lips. "What else do you have?"
"I have algebra two-"
"I have that, too! Second?"
"Yeah…" Emma glared at him before continuing. "Then I have gym. And after that creative writing, open lunch, my government class, and finally some art class that Belle's taking."
"What?" Killian looked at her with wide eyes. "All I have is gym and creative writing. When do you have them? Who do you have?"
"Stop asking all these questions! You're giving me a headache." Emma grumbled, looking at the paper for names. "I have Mr. Hurst for gym and Mrs… Mills?"
"Oh. You got Ms. Mills." His eyes looked sympathetic as he looked at her.
"Why, because you don't?" she teased.
"No. Because she's a bitch and she grades like one, too."
"How do you know?"
"I had her for English." he visibly grimaced. "I barely passed that class, and you know how good I am at writing. She hates everyone and no one's work is good enough. Rumor has it, no one had ever gotten anything higher than a B in her class before. And the people who got a B were the smart ones."
"Shit, really?" Emma narrowed her eyes at him in disbelief. "Mary Margaret had promised me her old car by the end of the year if I got straight A's."
"You're fucked out of a car, then."
"I'm gonna ask Belle. She had her… I think. Well, she took a lot of English classes." Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose and slumped into the desk, head buried into her arms. "I thought this year was going to be easy."
"Emma?" A soft voice reached the blonde's ears. It held a familiar accent that immediately made the teenager jump up from her seat and grab the source of disturbance.
"Yes? Emma, what is it?" she looked at her worried, eyes big.
"Have you had that... Mrs. Mills?"
"Ms. Mills? Yeah. She's pretty tough on grades." Belle tilted her head.
"You're a brainiac. What did you get? Numb nuts over here says no one has ever gotten an A in her class."
The brunette bit her lip and looked down. "I had all straight A's except for that class. No matter how much effort I put into my papers, she always seemed to give me low grades. I never understood why."
"Holy shit. I'm fucked." Emma slumped back down into her desk.
"You got her?"
"Yeah. For creative writing."
"Don't worry, Em. You're a brilliant writer." Belle reassured with a frowned, sitting in the desk next to her. A hand rubbed the blonde's back. "You'll do good."
"I'm not as good as you and I need all A's. I wanna get the hell out of Dodge in my own ride by the end of the year." Emma whined, thumping her head on the desk several times.
"She's losing it, Belle. Do something."
"Emma, please… Don't stress. You have a better imagination than I. Remember? I'm the bookworm." she smiled dubiously.
Belle had always been the more quiet one of the group, just tagging along because she felt she had to. Emma suspected that she did quite enjoy the loud parties that they went to most of the time despite the way she says she'd rather be home reading a book. She usually teased Belle about being a bookworm or a nerd because every time that Emma turned around, the brunette was doing some kind of homework or reading some kind of material. Even though she teased, Emma had to admit she admired Belle's much more calmer side when away from Ruby. She was the friend one would go to just to talk about each other's day over coffee and cocoa or read in comfortable silence.
Also, Belle said her writing rocked. Which, of course, was something coming from a girl who read so many literature pieces that would make Emma's head explode. She usually tried to take her word for it, and right now she wished her brain would accept the kind words and ease the anxiety building in the pit of her stomach.
"If you say so…" she groaned softly and sighed.
"And think of it this way Em, if you don't like the class, you could always change your schedule." The brunette looked at her with kind eyes.
"You're right. I can. I probably will." Emma nodded upon a sigh, fingers tangling through her own blonde curls. "Thanks. I don't know what I would do without you."
"Probably get a concussion." Belle joked.
"Yeah, well." Emma chuckled and looked over to the clock, noticing it to be four minutes until the bell would ring. "You should probably go before you're late to home room."
"Right." Belle nodded and hugged Emma quickly before standing. "See you in gov. Tell me how it goes with the hardass."
Emma laughed and nodded at the word that Belle had said, knowing the brunette rarely ever cursed. "Yeah. Thanks. Good luck with your other classes."
Emma both hated and enjoyed the first day of school and that was pretty self explanatory. The worst part of the day would be the amount of people trying to find their classrooms. They had a tendency to stop in front of her in the hallways, only to turn around, or cut across. And she hated the freshmen, God did she hate them. They were the worst and that was only because they were most of the population that stopped and turned every which way in front of her. Sometimes they apologized excessively, but those were usually the more meek ones.
Now, for Emma, none of that was a problem. Her first three periods were quite easy to find, considering that she had had the teachers the previous year. Upon further inspection, the only new teachers that she would be having were Mrs. Mills and the new art teacher, Ms. Boyd. Emma had, plenty of times, been to the art room so she was quite certain where that was. As for creative writing, she wasn't quite sure, but she would cross that bridge when she got there.
First period was a drag. They went over the syllabus for the class with Mr. Booth, who she had the previous year for English, who then introduced himself with the same information she had already learned. They then proceeded with a self-introductory worksheet before introducing themselves to the class fully. It was more of a "turn to the person sitting next to you, share your name and a fact, then re-introduce them to the class." God how Emma hated doing that. And how she hated that Killian just had to be seated next to her. So, of course, she grudgingly shared a fact that she thought he was stupid and, naturally, he told the class she had a huge crush on him. Luckily, everyone passed it off for a joke as she rolled her eyes with rose-tinted cheeks. Damn bastard. He must have lied about not having comp just to spite her and that just made her hate him even more.
Second period was much like first. More self-introductory routines. More classroom rules and going over the syllabus. This time Killian was placed a few rows away from her. She smirked as he had noticed that on the seating chart shown on the front board. Good. Emma didn't need to sit next to him for another hour. One was enough. Mr. Spencer had given them a review quiz from what they had learned last year which coincidentally took up the last half hour of class and they were soon able to leave.
Third period rolled around and Emma could feel her stomach knotting up. Next period was creative writing. She knew she had nothing to worry about just yet, considering it was the first day and she was quite sure that the teacher would end up forcing them to, yet again, introduce themselves. She would probably yap about herself for the rest of the period. But that wasn't until an hour away. Right now was gym class and she was forced to sit on the bleachers in the only gym this school seemed to deem fit for the class, even though it seemed to be falling apart. Why hadn't they just used the newer gym? Idiots.
Mr. Hurst had spent the better half of the class talking about what they would be doing and the guidelines they had to follow. Eventually it shifted towards the required push-up and sit-up tests as well as the pacer that anyone and everyone who took gym was required to do. Personally, Emma thought it was stupid and wished they would get straight to running outside around the track. Running always cleared her head which was why she usually took classes that usually revolved around cardio fitness and aerobics.
She had eventually zoned out from the man's droning voice as her green eyes searched the gym. Across from them was a second class. She wasn't sure which one it was, but Killian was in there, and currently he was making googly eyes at her. She scowled and averted her gaze to look at the clock. Ten minutes left. It felt like butterflies were making a windstorm in her stomach. It kept turning and turning and she felt as if she were going to be sick.
She had no reason to feel sick. They were just rumors. Even people like Belle can get a B from time to time. What did this woman even look like, anyways? The paper said Mrs., so Emma was assuming she was older. That would probably explain why she was so harsh on grading. Great. An old bat that'll probably hate me, she thought.
Then it happened. The bell rang and Emma's heart sank. She got up from the bleachers and made her way towards the door, ignoring the way Killian was calling her name. Emma hastily made her way to the door, only to be blocked by the large number of idiots trying to exit at the same time. She stopped and huffed, giving in as she turned to the boy behind her.
"Hey," he said.
"What do you have next?"
"Creative writing. You know this."
"Oh, shit. Yeah." He bit his lower lip for a moment and smirked. "Good luck."
"Yeah…" Emma rolled her eyes once again and left for the exit as soon as it had cleared up. Then she was virtually shuffling as slowly as possible to her next class. She was so unsure of it now. Both of them seemed to sympathize her about having Mrs. Mills as a teacher and it wasn't something to celebrate. She almost contemplated skipping, but that would be pointless. At least she would give this teacher, this class, a chance. If she didn't like it by the end of the day, she would change up her schedule.
Emma turned down the English hallway, schedule in hand as she gazed the classroom numbers. Her eyes landed on the one that matched the numbers on the paper. Exhaling slowly, she entered the classroom to find it halfway full. There weren't many people here so far. It made her wonder exactly how many people didn't want to be in this woman's class.
Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she sought out a seat in the back of the class. She figured that they were able to choose their own seats, seeing as to how there was no chart around. She didn't mind. That meant she could keep away from most people. She enjoyed the freedom of the last seat in a row. It made her feel more isolated, even though there was still a whole class of people in front of her.
Emma glanced up towards the clock and noticed that there was still about two minutes of passing period time. She must have gotten here faster than she thought if she had that much time left. Shrugging mentally, she gazed around the room in hopes to find out more about the infamous teacher. There were no personal pictures. No indicators of anything that would show personality. Just the usual boring classroom with encouraging posters about English and writing. Her eyes focused on the front wall. It looked like two white boards with one of the smartboards nestled between them. On on of the white boards was written in cursive Miss Mills.
Funny, Emma thought. On her schedule it said she was a Mrs. Or so she thought. She looked down to the schedule once again and finally noticed that most of the names actually had Mrs. in front of it. She blinked. Weird.
Must have been a printing error or something. So perhaps it won't be an old biddy that would enter the classroom. Come to think of it, Emma hadn't really seen many elderly teachers around. Only one or two upstairs and her math teacher down here.
And then she entered the room, which was now mostly filled up with students who had been talking about their classes so far. But Emma hadn't paid any attention to them. Her eyes were locked on the woman with dark brown hair that barely just reached her shoulders, large, brown eyes that Emma swore she could melt upon seeing them, and plump lips painted a deep shade of crimson. Emma could cry. That pantsuit outfit she wore was just all kinds of tight and generous with a few buttons on her red, silk blouse unbuttoned and that jet black jacket matched perfectly with the slacks, which left enough view of the high heels she wore.
Mouth dry, Emma just couldn't take her eyes away from this gorgeous woman. Surely the olive toned beauty couldn't be the bitch teacher? No way. She was… She was so… hot. That couldn't be her. She looked so young. Maybe her friends made a mistake. Maybe they were thinking of another Mills in this school. It couldn't be her.
God, no. Not with that ass. Emma's forest green eyes stuck like glue to her teacher's posterior as she turned to fiddle with the smartboard. Those slacks did her much justice, hugging the curve of her ass which left little to the imagination. Suddenly, the blonde was thinking about how Ms. Mills would look without those pants on and what kind of undergarments she wore. Granny panties? Silk? Satin? Lace? Thong? And… oh, God. What if she wore nothing?
Then the bell rang, nearly causing Emma to fall out of her seat as she jumped. All naughty thoughts about her teacher immediately dissipating. Then she noticed that Ms. Mills had an eyebrow quirked as she stared at the blonde.
"Sorry…" she said sheepishly, shrinking in her seat with burning cheeks. Everyone was looking at her now.
"I certainly do hope that you won't be spacing off during my class." Ms. Mills spoke and oh God, that did funny things to Emma's insides. Her voice was as sexy and seductive as her body. It was deep and husky in all the good ways. How was she ever going to survive this class?
"I-I won't…" Emma wanted to slap herself.
"Good. Tell me your name." She looked down to the list in front of her, or so Emma assumed since she couldn't see the podium.
"Emma. Emma Swan- I mean, Nolan." The blonde bit the inside of her cheek, reprimanding herself for using Swan. She was too used to using that last name. It was the name of the first family she moved in with. They were so kind to her, that was, until they got pregnant and sent her back. But she enjoyed her time with them and using the last name that they had given her would be a reminder to herself. Of course, she loved the Nolans dearly, but she much preferred using Swan, and since no other family ever bothered to care about her last name until now, they obliged, only wanting her to be happy.
Ms. Mills quirked one of those damn perfectly manicured eyebrows once again at the slip before the chocolate brown orbs roved over the paper. "Thank you, Ms. Nolan."
"Swan. Please, call me Swan, not Nolan." Emma braved.
"Alright, Ms. Swan." The blonde swore she could see a twitch on Ms. Mills' face as if she were trying to hide her amusement. God, she only knew this woman for less than ten minutes and she was already obsessed.
After Ms. Mills had taken attendance, she pushed the podium aside and clicked a button on the remote she held for the electronic board.
"As you all may know, I am Regina Mills, but please do call me Ms. Mills. I teach both English and creative writing here at the school." She offered the class a smile, which seemed a little too forced, but Emma brushed that off and continued to stare at the way her mouth moved with every vowel.
"Of course, as you know, you are in creative writing. I'm sure you're all well aware that it is not a required course and if you cannot handle the fact that I do take my classes seriously and this will not just be an easy A for you because you are so well inclined to write words on paper, you may talk with your counselor and change your schedule. I will not tolerate freeloaders and I do not give out extra credit. You must take this course seriously as you would with your writing." The teacher had paced across the room now, then turned to face the students once again. "I'm quite sure that you may have heard from fellow students that had previously taken my course that it's hard. Truly, it is not. All I ask of you is to use your imagination to your full capacity. I am fickle about proper grammar and sentence structure, so please do review your work. If you do not, it will only hurt your grade."
Emma was starting to space out again as the woman spoke about the class and what is to be expected. The yellow paper passed out was the syllabus that had most of the same requirements and criteria that every other class had. Hearing about this for the fourth time in one day was tiring and Emma found herself staring at Regina's moving mouth. After spending so much time there, she noticed a few things like Ms. Mills had a scar on her upper right lip or that she licked those red lips every few sentences.
It wasn't until Emma was handed another paper that she had snapped out of her trance and decided that it was time to pay attention again. She grabbed the white piece of parchment and read over the black print.
"I would like your first assignment to be a short one to two page summary of your summer. Do feel inclined to write some information about yourself in it as well. I would like to learn more about you."
A student raised their hand. "Is this graded?"
"No, it's not. This is a test so I know where you're at with your writing and creative skills." Then she was walking towards Emma, and oh God, the blonde thought she got caught spacing off again. But then Regina moved right past her to the teacher's desk in the corner of the room, which had coincidentally been right next to the blonde's.
Emma had thoughtlessly taken the desk next to the teacher's because she wanted to figure out who the hell was going to be teaching her. She held in a breath, then exhaled, looking at Ms. Mills in the corner of her eye.
The brunette teacher had taken an apple out of her desk, a perfect, deep red. Just like her lips. Then she had taken out a small container that Emma could only guess was her lunch. After all, next period was her own, and the only lunch periods were fourth and fifth.
She smirked to herself, eyes roaming over the piece of paper in her hand. It was open lunch and she was free to do what she wished. Perhaps she could stay behind some days and work. Of course, that was if Ms. Mills would allow her. She didn't know much about her yet, but she certainly hoped she wasn't too strict.
Sighing to herself, Emma gazed up at the clock once again. There was about twenty minutes left of class. She really didn't want to have to write at the moment, so instead, she lightly tapped her pencil on the surface of her desk.
"Emma," the sound of her name was an annoyed whisper. The blonde looked up to see Ms. Mills staring at her pencil, then those muddy eyes raised to her face, which ultimately caused her to drop the utensil.
"Get to work."
Emma bowed her head and stared at the prompt in front of her. And stared. She stared so hard, she was sure it would burst into flame.
Then she heard a sigh behind her, but this time she didn't look up, she bent down and shuffled through her bag until she pulled out a clean notebook and opened it. Immediately, she got to writing about the beginning of her summer, only to pause mid-paragraph for a chanced glance at her teacher.
And her pencil dropped onto the paper.
She put on glasses.
Regina Mills was wearing glasses and that was the hottest thing. She didn't think the brunette could get anymore attractive, but the way she pulled her plump, lower lip into her mouth as she read a paper in front of her just caused Emma's heart to flutter.
Then brown eyes met green.
And that damned eyebrow quirked.
The blonde immediately looked back to her paper, picked up her pencil, and resumed writing. And, oh God, she swore she could feel Regina smirking behind her. But she didn't dare look as she scribbled on the paper as fast as her hand could manage. It wasn't long until the bell had sounded, announcing that class was over.
Emma didn't move.
She continued to sit there as every other student filed out of the room, seemingly as quickly as they could, dropping their finished assignments on the podium. They probably wanted to get to lunch. Emma didn't mind. She had no where to go and school lunch didn't sound appetizing.
There was a popping sound as a lid separated from its container. She lifted her gaze to furtively watch as Ms. Mills began to prepare her lunch. Apparently she ate in her room. Interesting.
The brunette teacher didn't seem to take any action towards Emma's presence. The blonde didn't make any plan to move, either, for she continued to scribble onto the paper about her summer.
"Are you going to leave any time soon, Ms. Swan?" That husky voice finally spoke of Emma's presence and she shivered.
"I was just going to finish my paper," she quickly explained.
"You seem to make yourself known." Her voice was almost a whisper.
"What do you mean?" Emma stopped and dropped her pencil to look at the teacher, who had now been chewing something.
After a few moments, she answered, "First off, you nearly jump out of your seat at the beginning of class like a cat in a thunderstorm." her brow quirked. "And don't think I hadn't noticed you staring at me for most of the period. You would have had that assignment finished like the rest of your classmates if you hadn't been doing just that."
Emma blushed slightly and looked down at her paper for a moment.
"And now you bring it upon yourself to stay in class during my lunch hour and finish work that could very well have been done in class. I must say, Emma, my first impression of you is not the best." Regina stabbed a piece of what appeared to be lettuce and brought the fork out of the container. "If you continue to make a habit out of this, let me tell you, this semester will be a long one."
"I'm sorry." she mumbled softly, feeling her heart weigh heavy in her chest. "Look, I'll get this done and be out of your hair."
"Do you need a pass after you are finished?" She asked, taking out a small pad of pass-papers.
Emma shook her head, pencil tapping on the paper once again. "I have open lunch."
"I see," Ms. Mills put the pad back and delicately wrapped her lips around the fork, pulling it away as she chewed the leaf.
The sight had Emma almost crying for mercy. What the hell was with her? This was her damn teacher. She supposed it wasn't exactly illegal to feel attracted to your teacher. Students are always crushing after their professors. It's not like they had a chance, anyways. It's not like she had the chance.
Oh, god, there were so many reasons why she didn't have a chance. That woman could be dating someone. She didn't have any rings on, so Emma assumed she wasn't engaged or married. And even if she were single, Emma had little to no chance. First of all, she was sure Ms. Mills was one-hundred percent straight, and second, she would never go for someone her age. Illogical.
"You're staring again, Ms. Swan. Must I get you a laser pointer to divide your attention elsewhere? Whatever has you so fascinated, you must concentrate it onto your paper." she quirked a brow at a blushing Emma, who had been rather embarrassed that she had gotten caught once again.
"Sorry…" she mumbled and turned to complete the paper. About ten minutes later, she was finished with the assignment, and Ms. Mills appeared to be done with her lunch. Emma stood and handed over the paper, which had become longer than she had anticipated.
"Thank you. Enjoy your lunch." Regina offered her a soft smile as she took the notebook and sat it in front of herself. Soon, those glasses were back in place as she began to read the words on the paper.
"Thanks. You too, and sorry again for ruining your lunch." Emma sighed softly and gathered her belongings before rushing out of the room, completely oblivious to the reply of "you didn't ruin my lunch" behind her.
"So, I see you survived her class." Belle chuckled, bumping her arm playfully against Emma's as the blonde arrived into the government classroom and took the seat next to her best friend.
"Yeah. It wasn't so bad." Emma shrugged. "I thought she was gonna be old or something."
"No, she isn't. Well, she is. She's like… almost forty. She told us when I was in her class."
"Fuck," Emma blinked and stared at Belle with incredulous eyes. "I thought she was like… twenty five or something."
"Try thirty seven."
"Shit," the blonde muttered. Regina was twenty years older than her. There was definitely a clusterfuck of emotions going through her mind right now, and not one of them was good at the moment.
"What's wrong?" Belle blinked, completely oblivious.
Emma turned to her friend, mouth slightly gaped open.
"She's…" she dramatically twitched her eyes and dropped her head onto her desk.
The brunette next to her could only frown and sympathize, patting her back. "Hey, what's wrong, hon?"
"She's so hot." Emma whimpered sadly. "I mean… fuck. I couldn't stop staring at her and she… she knew."
"What?" Belle blinked, then burst out laughing. She laughed. She had the audacity to laugh.
"What?!" Emma threw her hands up, the pout on her lips only forcing Belle to laugh violently.
It was no secret to Belle or Ruby that Emma was actually into girls. They supported her and she promised to never make a move on them. They only laughed and joked that they probably weren't her type anyways. She loved them dearly for understanding, unlike many of the friends she had in her past life.
"If I would have known the type you went for was the whole regal and bitchy latina, I would have told you that you'd like her." Belle snorted a laugh through her nose, trying to calm down. Their teacher, Mr. Glass, had shot them several warning glances.
"I don't think my type is exactly that. I mean… I like the brown hair and eyes… and, shit, she can really pull off that power suit."
"Wait until she wears the pencil skirt." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Belle looked as if she were going to hit herself.
"Wait. She wears… Oh god. And the glasses. And… She will be the end of me, Belle. How am I going to survive this year?"
"I don't know, Em. You're out of luck." She chuckled once again.
"She's twenty years older than me." Emma finally realized once again, a blank look on her face.
"So you like older women. What's the deal?" Her friend shrugged nonchalantly.
"I guess… nothing. Not like anything's gonna happen anyways." Emma sighed softly and played with one of her blonde curls. "Damn."
"You must really like her. I mean, holy crap, Em. You've known her for an hour and you've spend an hour talking about her." Belle blinked, completely astonished by her friend's reaction.
"It's probably just a small crush. It'll end soon."
"I guess we'll see." Belle shrugged and stood from her desk. The rest of the class had done the same and headed for the door.
"Class is over?"
"I told you that you had been talking about her for the past hour." The brunette chuckled. "Come on, we need to get to art class."
After art class had ended, Emma and Belle had left school to head towards Ruby's grandmother's diner, Granny's. They decided to drop by for a visit with their other best friend to see how she was doing and tell her about their day. Both girls knew she'd have a laugh and say sorry for your time in Hell, but one year left, and you'll be living the freelife like me. Well, that was something she had said at the end of last year after her graduation.
Opening the door, Emma entered Granny's and smiled over to Ruby who had been behind the counter looking bored. The cafe was empty for the most part except for a few students here and there, enjoying an after school snack.
"Hey, yo, my peeps!" Ruby chuckled and waved the two teens over to the counter. "What do you want?"
"What I usually get." Emma shrugged indifferently as Belle nodded, repeating the same.
"Alright. We need an iced tea and a hot cocoa with cinnamon."
Writing down the order, Ruby headed off to gather the drinks. Soon enough she returned with the order, placing each drink in front of their respective owner. The lanky brunette leaned against the counter, dark lids batting.
"So, tell me, how was first day of senior year?"
"Shitty," Emma mumbled, sipping from her cocoa.
"Emma's got a crush!" Belle squealed immediately, unable to contain her excitement as she bounced on the stool.
Ruby's eyes widened in surprise as she stared at the blonde who had now tried to hide her blush with golden locks.
"Goddammit, Belle. Why can't you keep your damn mouth shut?" she pouted slightly.
"Who is she, Em?" The waitress smirked and eyed Belle, knowing she would spill the beans.
Belle smirked and poked Emma's arm, who merely grumbled a profanity, before speaking.
"It's Ms. Mills."
"You mean the hot bitch that teaches English?" Ruby's eyes widened with surprise. "I didn't know you went for that type, Em."
"Shut up." Emma growled, glaring over at Belle.
"She said she couldn't stop staring at her butt." The younger brunette smirked, waggling her brows. "Emma talked about her all during Gov."
"Shut. Up." The blush on the blonde's cheeks only darkened as Belle spoke. "Just shuttup!"
"No! I wanna hear more about this crush on old hardass." Ruby bit her red lip.
"She's not old!" Emma defended, which only caused her cheeks to burn darker.
That caused both of her friends to quirk a brow. "Defensive much, Em?"
"Shut up!" She whined and got up from her spot, downing the rest of her hot cocoa before slapping some money onto the counter and leaving.
"I think we went too far." she heard Belle say to Ruby who only laughed.
"Nah, she's just embarrassed."
Emma ignored Belle's apology and Ruby's laughing as she power walked herself home. She knew she should have never said anything to Belle about her little staring contest with Ms. Mills' ass. She knew she should have just kept her lips sealed. Goddammit, now they're going to tease her about it. Hopefully whatever this little crush is will go away soon. It was just lust after all. Nothing more than desire that she usually felt for most women she found attractive. Little did she know, she would be dead wrong in the weeks to come.
"Emma!" Mary Margaret stopped the blonde teen in her tracks as she entered the apartment. "There you are! I was worried. I thought you would come home right after school."
"I'm sorry, Mary Margaret. I stopped to see Ruby." she bit her lip. "I'll text you if I do it again. I just wanted to tell her about my first day. She wanted to know."
"Oh. It's fine, honey. As long as you're okay." The small brunette smiled and wrapped her arms around Emma for a moment. "How was your first day?"
"It wasn't too bad." Emma shrugged, avoiding any possible conversation about her creative writing class.
Emma nodded and followed her foster-mother to the kitchen. She sat by the counter on the stool and told her about her day starting with first period and Killian being annoying to art class where she was able to have class with Belle and playfully doodle random things to each other during the teacher's introduction. This earned a disapproving look, but upon seeing some of the silly pictures on the paper, she chuckled.