The air in the fancy assembly hall at Summer Grove Grammar school was hot and cloying with the mingling perfume and aftershave worn by the students, clearly in an attempt to impress everyone on their first day back for the year.

Pitch Black was sitting stiffly in his seat, trying to appear professional yet approachable, hyper-conscious that students' eyes kept flickering towards him, no doubt intrigued by the newest appointee to the school. To say he felt intimidated by Summer Grove Grammar (which was so fancy it seemed more like a five-star hotel than a school) would be an understatement. A quick scan of the parking lot that morning had already convinced Pitch that he probably needed to drive a nicer car if he wanted to fit in here. He had nervously shaken hands with the other teachers before being escorted into the start of term assembly where he was treated to a truly tedious and ghastly boring speech that covered everything from what the principal did over the summer break to what he hoped the students would achieve this year.

Nevertheless, Pitch was aware how lucky he was to have been offered a position at such a prestigious school so early in his career. He was also conscious of the fact that he was probably underqualified for his position as an English and History teacher at a school that prides itself on its long tradition of academic success.

Even the students themselves were intimidating, all dressed in identical, smart uniforms: chequered blue dresses with knee high socks for the girls and grey school slacks, light blue shirts and ties for the boys. Pitch glanced down at his own attire – black dress slacks, white shirt, no tie – and felt horribly under-dressed. At his previous teaching post the students were not required to wear a uniform and the teachers were known to come to work in board shorts and t-shirts. Clearly he would need to dress more appropriately tomorrow. That might entail a shopping trip after school: he wasn't sure he owned professional clothing, always preferring a more chic, casual look. He was suddenly overcome with dread that teaching here would crush any sense of individuality he had left.

The principal cleared his throat, breaking Pitch out of his reverie that involved fearing he would be a miserable failure of a teacher at this school.

"And now I am pleased to announce our new school captains for 2013."

Pitch blinked a few times, trying to look at least vaguely interested and hoping that this means the assembly is about to come to an end.

"Congratulations to Tiana Fairdale and Jackson Overland."

The room erupted into applause as two year twelve students made their way onto the stage to collect their badges. He gazed over at them, took in Tiana with her long blonde hair swept back in a pony tail, smiling so genuinely that it reached her amethyst eyes, before glancing at Jackson. The sight of him made his heart thump against his ribs and something twist hot inside him.

The boy was beautiful. His blue eyes were wide, sparkling and brimming with life. He had a small dimple in the corner of his mouth and his artfully messy blonde hair bounced gently against his forehead as he lithely stepped up onto the stage to accept his badge. His movements were easy, fluid and he had an aura of quiet confidence that Pitch rarely saw in someone so young.

He was also Pitch's student, a fact which made his current thoughts almost criminal.

"Um, I just wanted to say thank-you to everyone who voted for me" Jackson said, slightly breathlessly into the microphone. Pitch found himself captivated with the way the boy stood with one hip jutting out, weight resting mainly on one leg and gripping the lectern with both hands. "I'm really looking forward to this year and I'm sure that we will all make it one to remember."

Tiana moved forward to the microphone but Pitch was too transfixed with Jackson to listen to what she was saying. He watched with hungry eyes as Jackson gracefully sat down, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he does so. He sat neatly in his chair, hands clasped in his lap, but he seemed restless. His body thrummed with restrained energy, despite the fact that his face is attentive to what the principal is saying. Pitch saw himself in Jack at that moment: both clearly had a rebellious streak that decorum and societal expectations forced them to conceal. It didn't escape Pitch's notice that the girls around him were also taking notice of Jackson's presence, casting him admiring looks.

As everyone in the hall rose to their feet at the conclusion of the assembly Pitch found himself strangely envious that those girls can fantasise about how Jackson Overland's hands and soft lips would feel on their skin without guilt.

xxxxxxx

The first bell rang for period one and it was pandemonium in the corridors. Pitch was buffeted from side to side by hoards of students, all of whom seemed to know exactly where they were going and were in an unnaturally determined rush to get there. He spun around helplessly outside the door to the room he thought was Room N (it's in between rooms M and O for God's sake), but turned out to be the Math's Room. A burly-looking boy crashed into him, knocking his lesson plans out of his arms.

"Sorry, Sir" the boy called over his shoulder, not stopping to offer any assistance.

Pitch sighed heavily, trying not to think about how he's going to be late to the class he is supposed to be teaching as he kneeled down.

"Do you need some help?"

Pitch looked up so quickly he felt his neck crick. Jackson Overland dropped to his knees beside him and without being asked, helped him collect his fallen papers. He was even more handsome up close with a few light freckles gracing his pale cheeks and his long eyelashes brushing against his skin as he blinked.

"Th-thank you." Great, he stuttered in front of one of his students. Good start. His eyes wandered down Jackson's body on their own accord and he pretended that he is merely admiring the shiny school captain badge pinned to his chest. Anything to make him feel less like a pervert.

"You look a little lost" Jackson said, a knowing smile playing around his lips.

To Pitch's horror he felt a blush spreading over his cheeks. It's because I'm embarrassed about having dropped an armful of papers and not being able to find my way to the classroom, he told himself firmly. It mostly certainly is not because I'm close enough to Jackson to count his freckles and notice how long his eyelashes are.

"A little. I need to get to Room N. Do you know where it is?"

"Sure do" Jack said enthusiastically. "I have a free period now, I could show you."

"That would be wonderful."

"It's really no problem" Jack replied easily, "I've been here since year seven so I really know my away around by now."

The simple statement set off questions in Pitch's mind like fireworks. He wanted to know everything about this beautiful boy. Did he like it here? Washe worried about leaving at the end of the year to go to university? What's he's favourite subject? Does he have a boyfriend? No, he definitely cannot ask him that.

"You spoke very well in assembly this morning" Pitch commented, hoping to distract himself from the intoxicating scent that seems to belong to Jackson. It wasn't aftershave or cologne or anything artificial smelling like that. It was sweet, almost fruity and just seemed fresh and clean. Jack brushed his fringe out of his eyes as he faced Pitch head on.

"Thank you. I would have spoken for longer and helped get everyone out of their classes but I thought the principal wouldn't take it too well." He smiled prettily and it reached his eyes.

Pitch laughed and it surprised him. He's not one to laugh easily. "I imagine not."

They came to a stop outside a room with a brass 'N' on the door.

"Well, I'll see you around." Jack smiled easily and sauntered off down the corridor. Pitch felt a twitch in his stomach as he watches him go.

xxxxxxx

"Brianna Maddow?"

"Here." Pitch looked up, determined to commit each student in his class to memory. The last thing he wanted was to appear unprofessional and forget all their names.

"Thank you. Alexander Michaels?"

"Present." Pitch glanced up again, hoping he was coming across as a dedicated teacher rather than a weirdly intense stalker. He wanted the kids to like him. He didn't want to be one of those teachers that got bitched about between classes. He liked to think that being relatively young meant he could connect with his students more, but now he is at this fancy prep school he is worried that his age makes him appear inexperienced and the students won't trust him.

"Jackson Overland?"

"Here Mr. Black."

Pitch already knew that. His eyes had been drawn to Jackson, sitting in the middle of the second row as soon as he had walked into the classroom after recess. His was easily the most handsome face and he just seemed to have a presence that drew everyone in to him. Pitch had an overwhelming need to get to know him, even though he knew that he would have little opportunity to do so.

Jackson's voice was smooth and musical and Pitch wanted to ask him a question, just so he can hear Jack speak again. He didn't though. He swallowed hard, hoping to get rid of all the inappropriate feelings flooding through his chest, wondering how a teenage boy could have such an effect on him.

Casting periodic furtive looks at Jackson, Pitch completed the roll. The boy watched him with a politely interested expression on his pretty face yet his eyelids were half-mast. He carried himself with a perfect mixture of too-cool-for-school and one who was thirsty for knowledge and once again Pitch was reminded of himself at Jackson's age.

"Now, as it is our first lesson, I am just going to give you an overview of what I hope we can accomplish together this year" he began, not missing the way Jack's eyes swept over his body with an appreciative flourish as he stood up.

He picks up his lesson outlines and hands the pile to Jack (because he was the closest student sitting in the front row. The decision was completely logical). Their fingers brushed briefly and the contact seemed to send a spark of electricity up Pitch's arm. He would have rolled his eyes at how cliché that feeling was but he was in front of a class. Not to mention the fact that the soft smile Jack gave him made him feel things that he was no longer sure he could feel anymore.

"Could you please pass those to the rest of the class?" he asked.

As Jack turned around and passed the papers to the second row Pitch's eyes fell on his (firm, round, sexy) ass and how cute he looked in the preppy school uniform.

xxxxxxx

Pitch shut the door of his modest apartment and it took all he had not to collapse against it. He was drained, tired and it had only been his first day. Given the stress of trying to find his way around the castle-esque school, act like he was used to being called 'sir' and 'mister' all the time and remember names he felt like he hadn't breathed properly all day.

On exiting the school he had peeked into the assembly hall, searching for the source of the music that was billowing up the entrance hall. The orchestra was rehearsing and it didn't take him long to find Jackson Overland playing first violin. His face was tense with concentration but his arm moved fluidly as he ran his bow over the strings, elegant fingers poised perfectly. Pitch knew very little about music but even he could appreciate Jackson's control and talent over the instrument. The way he was holding his arms accentuated the way his broad shoulders tapered into his narrow waist and at that moment Pitch decided to leave before he did anything inappropriate.

Despite everything that had happened that day, his thoughts continued to return to Jackson Overland. Just remembering the way Jack had diligently taken notes as Pitch had discussed the key points from Act One of Romeo and Juliet, nodding encouragingly throughout the lesson and looking genuinely interested in what Pitch had to say, warmed his heart. Ever since he had read an article on handwriting in some magazine Pitch had been a secret connoisseur of his student's penmanship and Jack's was excellent. It was neat, cute and suited him well.

He's your student, Pitch reminded himself firmly. Your underage student.

Any feelings or attraction he might feel towards Jackson Overland were irrelevant. They could never be together. He couldn't believe how presumptuous he is being, assuming that because Jack was polite, charming and helpful that he may somehow be attracted to him.

Pitch pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes as if trying to press his forbidden thoughts from his brain. Not in the mood to cook he filled a saucepan with water, deciding just to go with pasta for dinner.

As he waited for the water to boil he let his mind drift over the day.

Despite his best efforts, it immediately filled with thoughts of sparkling blue eyes.