Chapter two

That evening, Emma opened her laptop with a sigh that threatened to blow the papers off her desk. It was only the second week of the semester and she already had a 2,000-word essay to write for her medieval lit class. The thought of settling down to deal with it was making her temples throb.

The entire day had gone from bad to worse, and coming back to a dorm that swarming with shrieking freshmen hadn't helped in the slightest.

She'd fought for countless scholarships in order to attend that college, and at the time she hadn't cared about the small print that required her to live on campus for the full four years. Now, though, as she fought to ignore the chatterings of her cheery roommate Mary Margaret, she briefly considered moving into the cardboard box that had been sitting outside the arts department since the previous semester.

Then she caught sight of her computer screen and nearly screamed. Because right there, right at the top of her inbox, was an email impatiently flashing with the subject line Today's absence. Emma didn't need to look at the sender's name, because there was only one person it could be from.

She briefly considered deleting it and pretending that she'd never seen it, but curiosity and a weird, aching need to have just the slightest bit of contact with her professor had already burrowed its way deep inside her. She held her breath and clicked on the message.

Miss Swan,

Can I enquire as to the reason why you were absent from my seminar today?

In future, I would appreciate it if you could let me know ahead of time if you won't be able to attend.

Professor Regina Mills

Emma slumped down in her chair and dragged her fingers through her hair. Great – so, not only did this woman think she was socially incompetent and maybe borderline brain-dead, but now she thought she was a rude little bitch too. Perfect. Her genius plan could not have gone better.

Emma placed her tingling hands over the keyboard and typed out a reply.

Hi Professor Mills,

I'm sorry for missing your class – I was sick. I'll be sure to let you know in future.

Emma

It was the weakest possible response, but it was the best she could do. Besides, who could be mad at her if she was sick?

Professors Mills could, apparently. A new email appeared in Emma's inbox two minutes later.

You looked perfectly well when I saw you in the cafeteria 30 minutes before class.

Come and see me tomorrow to collect the work you missed. My office hours are below.

Oh, shit shit shit. Emma snapped her laptop shut hard enough that she had to immediately prise it open again to check the screen hadn't cracked. When she was certain that tiny shards of smashed glass weren't about to come spilling out, she slid down in her chair and let out a groan.

This could not have backfired more.


She barely got any sleep for the second night in a row, and when her alarm went off the next morning she had to all but drag herself out of bed. Professor Mills' office hours were between 10 and 12, which at the very least meant she would get this task out of the way quickly.

She'd really rather go back to bed and ignore it completely, though.

But she didn't, because she was a goddamn adult and she could handle a five-minute conversation with a woman who smart and intimidating and prettier than Angelina Jolie. She got dressed and headed to her 9am class, and she tried desperately to ignore the clock. Then, before she knew it, it was 10am, her lecture was over, and she had to go back to room 108 for the first time since she'd ploughed through the door like a bulldozer without a driver.

Once she was outside, it took a long time before she felt brave enough to knock. It was quiet on the other side of the door, which Emma hoped meant Professor Mills wasn't even there. It was just wishful thinking, though – Emma could feel her waiting. Maybe she could even smell her perfume.

She was standing there for nearly 10 minutes before she realised that the only thing more embarrassing than what had happened the previous week would be if Professor Mills suddenly opened her office door and found Emma loitering outside. So, sucking down the rising acid in her throat, she lifted her fist and knocked.

"Come in."

The tiny part of Emma that was still tough and unflappable forced her to open the door. Professor Mills was at her desk, and she didn't look up when Emma entered.

"Miss Swan," she said without lifting her eyes from the notepad in front of her. "Good to see you again."

Emma slowly walked into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. "Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

Emma blinked, wondering how she could possibly know about the nerves that were swirling around her stomach like water draining from a plughole. "I… What?"

Finally, Professor Mills looked up. Her eyes were as dark and probing as ever. "Your mysterious illness from yesterday. Have you recovered?"

Oh.

Forcing out a laugh that sounded slightly manic, Emma said, "Right. Yeah, I'm all better, thanks."

"Good. I was very concerned about you." Professor Mills' voice was dry and unimpressed, and it lit a fire in the base of Emma's chest.

She stepped forward and sighed. "Look, Professor Mills…"

"Regina."

"Sorry?"

"Regina's fine," she said coolly, looking down again. "Professor Mills is a bit formal."

"Oh," Emma said. Apparently it was her favourite word whenever this woman was around. "Okay, if you're sure."

"Sit down, Miss Swan," Regina said, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. Emma briefly considered asking why 'Professor Mills' was too formal but 'Miss Swan' was absolutely fine, but instead she just did as she was told. "Give me a moment to finish this and then we can talk through the seminar work."

Emma settled down in the chair and waited for her professor to be done. Regina was wearing that dark red lipstick again, and the tightly fitted shirt she had on underneath her black jacket was nearly the same colour. The buttons were straining, Emma noticed all too quickly. She thought she saw a flash of black lace from beneath it.

She tore her eyes away and looked down at her own hands instead. Her fingers were picking anxiously at the skin around her thumbnails – an old habit that she wasn't sure she'd ever grow out of – and she clenched her fists to make herself stop.

"So," Regina suddenly said, putting her pen down. She looked very industrious when she sat upright with her arms folded in front of her. "You've miraculously healed."

Emma felt her cheeks turn pink. "Yeah."

"I'm delighted to hear it. Will you be okay for next week's seminar?"

"Definitely," Emma said, and she meant it. Skipping class really hadn't worked out for her, and now that she was sitting in front of Regina again she realised that it had been the stupidest decision she'd ever made – not because she'd gotten caught, but because she couldn't believe she'd actually voluntarily missed out on spending an hour in the same room as this woman.

"Good. Because I hope you realise that this is a double-term course, Miss Swan. That means you're actually going to have to attend the classes if you want to pass the year."

"I know," Emma said, swallowing. "I won't be absent again. I promise."

"Very well. Now, to be perfectly honest, you didn't miss much," Regina admitted, opening a drawer and pulling out a few sheets of paper. "We were discussing Homer still, but it was more of an open debate than a lecture. But if I remember correctly, you've not read any of his work before, so—"

"Oh, no," Emma interrupted awkwardly. "I have."

"But you didn't put your hand up when I asked."

"I know. But I have."

Regina's eyes narrowed at once. "Are you lying to get out of doing the reading?"

"No!" Emma protested. "I'm serious. I just didn't put my hand up at the time."

"Why not?"

From the way she was watching her, Emma suspected Regina knew exactly why not: she'd seen the nervous flush in her cheeks and the way that she hadn't been able to maintain eye contact for more than a second. She wasn't an idiot.

But Emma wasn't one either, in spite of what her behaviour kept suggesting, and she wasn't about to admit any of that out loud. Instead she said, "I just misheard the question. Besides, I didn't think you'd be anal enough to remember exactly who raised their hands and who didn't."

Regina threw her a wry smile. Weirdly, she looked impressed.

"I see," she said, passing the papers across the desk. Emma took them, grateful that they didn't brush fingers. "You need to read the first three books of The Odyssey for next week's class."

Emma nodded. "Sure."

"There's also a critical analysis here that I'd like you to read and dissect. We're going to be discussing it in detail next time."

"Okay."

Emma's eyes were flicking over the article in her hand. The print was tiny and the words buzzed together in a swarm, and she squinted to make sense of them.

The paper looked dreary as hell and absolutely not something she had any interest in, but there was something special about it now. Maybe it was the fact that Regina's fingerprints were on it, dusted around the edges like petals.

She smiled slightly, then looked up. Regina was watching her again.

With a startled blink, Emma asked, "What?"

"I was just waiting for your thoughts."

"My thoughts?" Emma asked, glancing back down at the paper. "I haven't even read it yet."

She had a sneaking suspicion that Regina was trying to trip her up. The faint twinkle in her eye made Emma's palms sweat.

"Alright," Regina conceded, sitting back in her chair. "How's your semester going so far?"

That was something Emma hadn't been expecting: normally professors wanted their students to get the hell out of their office the second after they'd walked inside.

"Um. Fine, I think?" Emma offered. "I've been late to about 90 percent of my classes, though. I don't think my body clock was ready to come back."

Regina chuckled, and it was such a surprisingly lovely sound. "I can relate. I was very much enjoying my summer vacation before duty called."

"You're… new here this year, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

Yet again, it was so painfully obvious that Regina was trying to test her in some way. She wasn't even being subtle about it. Emma smiled faintly and, deciding that maybe fighting fire with fire was her best option, replied, "I just definitely would have noticed you before."

Regina's eyebrows slowly rose, and then she all but purred, "That's very good to know." Emma went hot all over, wondering just how quickly she'd get kicked out of the college if she climbed over the desk and straddled her professor right at that second.

Thankfully, Regina answered her question before that could happen. "Yes, I'm new this year. I'm covering someone's sabbatical."

"Oh," Emma said, weirdly disappointed. "So you won't be around for long?"

"I'll be here for the full year. After that, it's hard to say."

"And is it going okay so far?"

"It's going fine, apart from the fact that my juniors are already ditching classes after one week," Regina said coolly. Emma had to fight not to wince.

"That sucks," she said. "But they're probably all idiots."

"It certainly seems that way."

Emma grinned sheepishly at her, and that was when Regina's face broke into a smirk that was so joyous and filthy it threatened to shred Emma's panties there and then. Emma quickly crossed her legs so she could squeeze her thighs together, and for a second Regina's eyes snapped down to look at them.

"Anyway," Regina said eventually, her wicked smile not quite faded yet. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

Oh, there were many things Emma needed. But she just shook her head, pushing the papers into her backpack. "No, I think I'm all set. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Try to come prepared next week."

Emma knew that was not going to be a problem. She could already see every single one of her other classes falling to the wayside as she focused all her energy on this one subject that, until 10 minutes ago, she hadn't cared about very much at all. "Of course."

"Good," Regina said, her eyes crinkling at the sides as she smiled. "I'll see you Thursday, then."

Emma left the room with tingling fingertips and a beaming grin on her face. She raced home with all of her other work pushed to the back of her mind – she was going to read The Odyssey the second she got home, and she was going to blow Regina's mind with it the following week.


She turned up at Regina's seminar a week later feeling more prepared for a group discussion than she'd ever been for anything in her life. The article Regina had given her was littered with highlighted sections of text and scribbled notes, and she'd typed out a full list of agreements and criticisms in case she got called on. She knew everything there was to know about Homer, including the most prominent arguments on whether he was actually just one person at all, and she'd even found time to curl her hair properly. She was totally ready to kick ass.

She walked into the room and sat down in the same seat as before. Regina wasn't there yet, which give Emma time to get her books out, check her appearance in the front camera on her phone and start lazily scrolling through Twitter so that when their professor showed up, she wouldn't look like she'd been eagerly waiting for her.

She heard footsteps approaching and deliberately didn't look up. When Regina walked into the room, Emma was still looking down at her phone, not reading a single word of what her screen was telling her.

The group of nerds that Emma had expected to sit in the front row during her first week had never materialised, which meant that when she eventually glanced up, she had an unobstructed view of her professor leaning over to type something into her laptop. Regina was wearing a white shirt that was so tightly fitted she could see the faint pattern of her bra beneath it, and black slacks that made her legs look like they went on for a mile. Emma suppressed a sigh and glanced back down at her phone, hoping that Regina wouldn't look up again before the flush in her cheeks had subsided.

"Okay," her voice suddenly rang out from the front of the classroom, and Emma's head snapped back up. "I take it you all remembered to bring your copies of J C Slater's analysis on The Odyssey."

Emma slipped her copy out of her notebook and placed it in front of her. When she looked up, she caught the tail end of Regina's surprised glance at her highlighted, note-scribbled paper.

"I want you to split up into groups of four," Regina said, and Emma's heart immediately sank. She hated group work at the best of times, but she especially didn't want to waste the next 15 minutes talking to a bunch of people she didn't know when she could be listening to her professor's silky voice swooping through the room. "You should focus on the first three paragraphs and discuss your responses to Slater's argument."

The rest of the class sprung into action. Emma hesitated, swallowing down her reluctance before turning to face the group of three people sat behind her.

"Hey," she said. Two guys and a girl looked back at her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," the girl said. "I'm Mulan. This is Killian, and August."

Emma's eyebrows shot up of their own accord, and she heard herself ask, "Mulan?" before her brain could register how rude she was being.

Luckily for her, Mulan just shook her head. "Nothing to do with the Disney movie. My parents are nuts, but they're not sociopaths."

Emma grinned and settled down opposite them, trying to ignore the fact that one of the guys was still staring at her. He had piercing blue eyes, and it looked vaguely like he might be wearing eyeliner.

"So, full disclosure," Mulan said, producing her own article. "I didn't exactly do the assignment."

"Yeah, me either," one of the guys said. He had a lot of douchy stubble, and Emma suddenly recognised his voice was the previous class. She wasn't altogether surprised to remember that he was the one who had obnoxiously introduced himself as August W Booth. "Killian?"

"Obviously not," the darker-haired guy said. He had an English accent, and he was wearing a leather jacket that was cracked all around the collar.

For the first time in her life, Emma was able to flip over her paper and say, "Don't worry. I've got this."

The three people sitting opposite stared down at her barrage of notes like she'd just produced the eleventh commandment from her backpack.

"What?" she said. "I had some free time."

"A lot of it, by the looks of things," Mulan said. "I swear you weren't even here last class?"

Emma ignored her half-question. "So, this Slater guy's argument is basically that Homer couldn't possibly have only been one person, so The Odyssey isn't about one journey – it's based on a whole butt-load of them."

"Right," Killian said, reaching out to grab her essay and draw it closer to him. Emma glared and pulled it back. "And is that the right answer?"

"It's an analysis, dude. There isn't a 'right' answer."

"Seriously, Killian," August chuckled. He looked a lot less arrogant when he grinned. "You've been studying English for two years and you still think that's even possible?"

"Worth a shot."

"So, Emma – what do you think?" Mulan asked, scribbling down some notes of her own.

"Yes, Miss Swan," a voice said from behind them, and Emma felt her entire spine go rod-straight. "What do you think?"

Taking a breath, Emma turned to look at where Regina was now hovering behind her, her arms crossed and her lips twisted with a smirk. Emma smiled back in what she hoped was a totally confident, easy-breezy kind of way.

"Well," she said, "I'm not a historian, so arguing with him on whether or not Homer was multiple people or not isn't going to get me very far. But Slater acts like the fact that the poem could be about more than one person's idea of this journey somehow makes it worse, and I don't agree with that."

"And why is that?"

"Because if you go on vacation, it doesn't become a worse trip if you visit more than one town. If loads of guys pitched together to write this thing, then it was based on more than one experience and I don't see why that makes it a weaker piece. It just makes it, I don't know… richer. There's more meaning behind it."

She could feel her classmates blinking at her, but Emma couldn't focus on that. All she could look at was the faintly impressed smile on Regina's face.

"A valid point," she said, stepping closer to their shared desk. Emma inhaled sharply when she realised that Regina's hip was now barely an inch away from her shoulder. "I'm glad you caught up on the work you missed. You," she suddenly changed tack, pointing across the desk. "Jones, was it?"

Killian jumped in his seat. "Err. Yeah."

"What do you think about it?"

He blinked panickedly. Beside Emma, Regina adjusted her position ever so slightly, moving her weight from her left leg to her right. As she did, her leg brushed against Emma's arm.

"Well," Killian started. He looked pleadingly at Emma. "I guess I agree."

"With whom?" Regina asked coolly. She suddenly bent forward and leaned her palms on the desk, dragging Emma's work towards her with the tip of one finger.

Killian was looking longingly at all the notes that had just been taken away from him. "With… her."

"Could you use her name, please?"

"I don't know her name," Killian admitted, and Emma opened her mouth to take pity on him.

"It's Emma," Regina replied for her, and just the sound of Regina saying her name made her want to slide under the desk with a moan. "Please continue."

It was excruciating to listen as Killian desperately tried to form a coherent answer. "Well, I mean… Emma's right. If more than one guy wrote it then… It's better, right? It's like a… a group project."

Regina snorted lightly, even though she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her eyes were on the work that Emma had done.

"Do you have any points of your own that you didn't just recycle from what Miss Swan said 30 seconds ago?" she asked, running a finger down the notes that were scribbled in Emma's margin. She paused over one that said J C Slater clearly voted for Trump, and just as Emma was waiting to be berated, she thought she heard Regina laugh instead.

"No," Killian said. "Emma's argument was perfect."

With a resigned sigh, Regina straightened up. "A word of advice, Mr Jones – try to do the assigned reading in future. I'm going to be calling on you with a lot more frequency from now on."

Everyone waited awkwardly for her to move onto another group. Just as she turned to leave, she tapped Emma on the shoulder.

"Nice work, Miss Swan."

All of Emma's blood rushed straight towards the space between her thighs, and she just nodded in response. When Regina finally left, Emma could have sworn she deliberately brushed against her arm.

"God," Killian moaned as soon as she was out of earshot. "That was harsh."

"Good thing we have the teacher's pet with us, I guess," Mulan said, smirking across the table. Emma rolled her eyes, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt.

"Definitely not the case. She totally kicked my ass for skipping class last week so I over-prepared in case she picked on me."

"Well, it paid off," August said. "Quick, can you talk us through the rest of this for when she asks one of us in a minute?"

It was the first time in her life that Emma had been the smartest person in a group. She felt her twelve-year-old self light up from where she'd been buried deep inside her.

Emma did as they asked, and as she talked her classmates through the assignment, she forced herself not to look over at where Regina was standing on the other side of the room. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she listened to another student talking through their ideas, and as much as she hated herself for it, Emma felt a jealous pang in her chest. She swallowed and bent her head over her work.


When class ended, Emma got up and slowly began to pack her things away. The rest of the seminar had been uneventful in the most discouraging way possible – Regina hadn't smiled at her again. She hadn't called on her to explain her notes to the class either. Emma had spent most of the hour slumped down in her chair with disappointment weighing on her shoulders, but even when they'd been excused and Emma knew she could rush away from there, she was reluctant to. Part of her was hoping that Regina might have something to say to her after all.

But she didn't, of course, because why would she? She wasn't impressed with anything Emma had done. She'd merely been surprised that her selectively mute student had actually done the assignment, and that was where it ended. Emma needed to get a hold of herself and realise that.

She rammed her books into her backpack and headed for the door, forcing herself not to look up as she passed their professor, who was wiping her notes off of the whiteboard.

Emma sighed out loud once she was in the hall. As she hurried away from the classroom, she shook her head like she was trying to physically remove Regina from it.

Jesus Christ, she was going to be a total nervous wreck by the end of the semester if this was what every classics class was going to be like.

"Hey, wait," a voice called out from behind her. "Swan!"

She recognised the English lilt to the words and sighed. She turned to find Killian chasing after her.

"Hey," he said as he skidded to a halt beside her. "Why did you run off so fast?"

Emma shrugged. "I have another class to get to."

That was a lie, and she hoped Killian wouldn't call her out on it. Luckily for her – or unluckily, really – he seemed to be too busy grinning at her to have noticed what she'd just said.

"Cool, me too," he murmured. "What are you up to tonight?"

Blinking, Emma asked, "Why?"

"I thought we could get a drink."

"Err," Emma stammered, taking a step back. "We barely know each other."

"I know. That's what the drink is for."

"I'm not 21 yet," Emma said. It was the weakest excuse in her repertoire since she'd had a fake ID since she was 17, but as she was decidedly not into this piratey-looking dude, weak excuses were good enough for her right then.

"Coffee, then," Killian said. The rest of their class was filing past them, including Mulan and August, who both raised a hand to wave to her as they walked by. "It'll be nice to talk a bit. Maybe you can help me with the next assignment."

Emma tried not to wrinkle her nose. "Yeah… I just have a ton of work to do tonight, so I'm not sure I have time."

"How about tomorrow?"

"Friday night?" Emma asked. "You don't already have plans?"

"None that I can't cancel. And since you're not 21 yet, I'm guessing you don't have any either."

He smirked at her like he thought he'd won, and Emma had to resist the urge to drop her anthology on his foot.

"I'm busy," she said flatly. The corridor had cleared out by then, and she tried to take a step away from him. "Maybe some other time."

"We could get together this weekend to do Professor Mills' reading," Killian pushed. Emma sighed, pausing to look longingly at the exit. When she turned to face him again, movement just behind him immediately distracted her.

Regina was just leaving the classroom, her books balanced on her hip and her attention already fixed on the conversation that was taking place 10 feet away. The hallway was quiet, Emma realised, and she had probably heard some of it from inside.

Emma tried to smile at her, but Regina's eyes were narrowed and fixed on the back of Killian's head.

"Swan?" Killian asked, and Emma blinked back to attention. She flicked her gaze onto him once more.

"Hm?"

"This weekend?" he prompted. He reached out to touch her arm and seemingly didn't notice when she recoiled. "I'm free Saturday."

"I'm not," Emma said. Regina was passing by them now, and Emma desperately didn't want her to go without smiling at her. She looked pissed, though, and she was walking quickly. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead of her and it didn't waver, no matter how hard Emma stared.

"Playing hard to get," Killian chuckled. "I like that. Not a problem – I'll get you some other time."

He turned and left then, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and his walk so cocky that he may as well have left greasy footprints behind him. He was obviously expecting Emma to be watching him go, but what he didn't realise was that she was already busy staring after the woman who was walking 10 paces ahead of him. Regina had just reached the door at the end of the corridor, and as she reached out to push it open, the muscles in her back shifted beneath her white shirt. Emma felt herself shiver, watching her until the doors had swung shut behind her.