He loved to look at her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear or how she bent over her desk, wholly concentrated on her writing. He held back a chuckle. If she concentrated on her schoolwork as she concentrated on those stories she wrote, she would be making a hundred instead of a ninety two.

He sighed. If only their relationship didn't have to be confined to that of a student and a teacher. He was only twenty two, and she was seventeen. If he had met her anywhere else but the school… Sighing once more, he turned back to his computer to enter grades.

- -

She loved being in the room with him. In the hallways, her eyes sought him out, a blush rising to her cheeks as he smiled back at her. She had even arranged her schedule so as to be in his classroom two periods a day- one, of course, as a pupil in his Latin class, and the other, as a teacher's assistant. She graded papers, ran errands, and straightened up, but as he wasn't a strict taskmaster, she was often left to her writing. Much of which was filled with him.

She glanced up at him and smiled. His hair was in the rumpled mess she liked the best, but which usually signified that he was frustrated. He always ran his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated.

- -

It was the second time this week that she turned up without her homework. He frowned down at her, watching as she bit her lip in a mixture of embarrassment and worry. "Why don't you have your homework, Christina?"

"Umm," she hesitated. It wasn't as if she could say 'Well, Mr. MacCrimmon, I got too distracted last night thinking about kissing you'. "My dog ate it?" she offered up hopefully.

He shook his head. "Would you please translate lines one through five on the board? Since you don't have your work, I assume it is because you already know how to do it." The way her face fell almost made him regret his decision, but he didn't call her back. He was still the teacher, and he couldn't play favorites.

A few minutes later, he cast his eyes to the blackboard, where she had written out the assigned lines almost perfectly. He swiveled his head to where Christina was sitting, her head propped up with one hand. Giving her a grin, he said, "Pass up your work, everyone. Let's get to business."

- - -

It was beginning to rain, the sprinkles of water coming increasingly close together. Pulling up the hood of her sweater, Christina groaned when she realized that she would never make the last mile home without becoming soaked. And the rain was sure to soak through the canvas of her backpack as well, leaving her books with water damage and her papers stuck together. She shuddered at the thought of her careful work being destroyed. Even if it wasn't, it was sure to have the little wrinkles of dried liquid. "Just my luck," she muttered. At least it was Friday.

She paused as the black SUV pulled up next to her and the window was rolled down. "Get in," Mr. MacCrimmon ordered her. "I'll take you home."

She smiled in relief and ran to the passenger side. "Thanks so much!" she gasped, plunking down on the leather seat.

His eyes were merry as he looked at her. "No problem."