A/N: This is noticeably rushed, mostly because I want to provide you guys with some new material. The real action starts next chapter. :)
It's not like Sonny sat around thinking about it. Obviously, her life was more occupied and eventful than that. And her plate was full, anyway, what with tests coming up and asking Nico to repair her Mini Cooper because it keeps stuttering, battered - and okay, maybe she was a tiny bit affected by it. Him. But it was like a thing she couldn't place into a vein, a category, questions spiralling - was was the etiquette? She couldn't simply give into to her stupid, carnal senses that sought to curve into his presence like a moth, soak in the light he projected.
Mr. Cooper was fascinating, if anything. The kind of fascinating that made Sonny want to poke around a bit, tinker - how would he smile if she admitted to him that she kind of wanted to make furcoats from his shiny blonde hair? Would he lean back, spine curved, laugh? Sonny spent periods laying her head in her hands and drawing up images in her head, embarrassment repressed, unable to get over the character of his eyes. Maths wasn't until one more period, and if Sonny was being impartial, she would admit that she wouldn't have pegged Mr. Cooper as a math teacher. He seemed too animated for that. English, maybe. Though, having seen him exude that amount of confidence and, well, aptitude, she inferred Maths would look good on him. Stringing together nonsensical numbers, one hand stuffed in the pocket of his slacks, and mouth curving up in self-satisfaction when he would get it right. Sonny couldn't wait. It was something out of a sordid YA novel, or a rural fantasy.
When the bell signalled the start of the third period, Sonny's pulse unnerved, she gathered up the books in her arms and unceremoniously dashed to her locker in hopes of getting to the class first. When she did enter, textbooks equipped and nervously tucking her hair behind one ear, the entire room was in clamor, girls hoisted up on their desks and comically discussing the prospects, eyes wide and fanning themselves. Right. Of course the news had spread about the 'hot, new math teacher'. This was something she hadn't considered, and it did, admittedly, spark something bitter in her.
Sonny, after some internal debate, slid into the first bench, dropping her books on the table and crossing one leg over the other. The thought of Mr. Cooper's attention being scooped up by some other student didn't settle right with her. One glance down told her that her skirt had ridden up, infinitesimal, exposing a inch of her upper thighs, starkly pale against the navy of the fabric. Sonny burned right down to her toes, embers licking at her ears. It occurred to her that she might lure the wrong kind of attraction, but the thought sent heat down her spine.
The idea was so new, so illicit. But maybe that's what the situation called for.
Tampering down a smirk, Sonny discreetly folded the linen and hitched it over her inner thighs, then crossed her legs so it looked even more obscene. God. She could have so much fun with this.
And she would, as the door clicked upon, revealing a benign, unassuming Mr. Cooper.
Now the real thing would commence.