When the side of Daniel’s mouth crooked up, the effect was charming as hell. The kid was a knockout.
Annoyed that he’d made such a stupid slipup, he looked back at the papers in front of him, hoping Daniel would get the message and leave. No such luck.
“Explains what?” he asked again.
Brantley sighed and rested his arms on the desk as he studied Daniel’s inviting face. “It explains your hair.”
“My—oh,” he said, touching the ends of it. “Do you like it?”
Stunned by the direct question, he sat back in his chair and fought the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do I like your hair?”
“Does it matter?” Jesus, fuck. Stop it. Stop flirting with him.
But it was too late. Daniel put his hands on the desk and leaned forward, Brantley toed the ground, shoving his chair back.
“No. No, it couldn’t,” he said as he got to his feet, shaking his head.
Daniel straightened and tucked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack, no doubt to taunt him. His eyes were too knowing for someone his age, and when they held his longer than was acceptable, Brantley’s heart skipped a couple of beats.
“Was there something else, Mr. Finley?”
“You said you were going out with friends this weekend…”
Shit, did I? “Yes, that’s right.”
As Daniel ran his thumb down the left strap of his bag, he admonished himself for noticing every little move he made. He needed to get a fucking hold of himself.
“Are any of them more than a friend?”
If he hadn’t been watching Daniel quite so closely, he wouldn’t have believed the words that had just come out of his mouth. But he had been. So he did.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. You better hurry or you’ll miss your next class.”
Satisfied that he’d firmly dismissed Daniel, he sat down and made a show of focusing on the books lining his desk and didn’t dare look and see if he had left this time or not. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was still standing there.
He reached up to adjust his tie, which suddenly felt a little too tight around his neck, and with each passing second that he was consciously not checking to see if he was alone, he swore that it was getting tighter.
His head snapped up at his name, and when Daniel had his attention, he continued.
Brantley’s eyes widened, and he wondered how his mouth hadn’t fallen open at the blunt question. Instead, he went with, “Excuse me?”
“I heard what you said. But I don’t see how that is any business of yours, either. You should think before you speak, Mr. Finley. I’m your teacher, and it’s time for you to leave. This conversation is over.” He flipped open one of the books on his desk and shook his head. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid—or the fact that he was so damn forthright. As he sat there, grinding his teeth in an effort not to look at his student—who was still standing in front of his desk—a bead of sweat ran down his collar and he cursed the fact that his nerves were getting the better of him.
“I only asked because, well, I am too. And I thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”
Well, hell. He couldn’t fault him for that. The only problem was…talking wasn’t what sprang to mind when he was around Daniel Finley.
He clasped his hands on the desk and stared into the anxious face peering down at him. Daniel was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, and he suddenly looked very much the young man he was.
“Are you?” he asked again, and there was no way he could deny that hesitant curiosity.
As his words drifted between them, Daniel’s mouth slipped into a smile. “Oh.”
Brantley laughed at that. He wasn’t sure what Daniel was thinking right then. He’d thought for sure with the way he’d been looking at him earlier that, if he’d admitted this, he would be fending off—or at least putting up a good show of fending off—an unwanted pass. But, instead, Daniel appeared thoughtful.
Daniel adamantly shook his head. “No.”
“Are you sure?” he pressed, and the look that entered Daniel’s eyes then was so hot that he thought he may overheat.
Oh, fuck. Okay. Where the hell did the nervous guy disappear to? One minute, Daniel was endearingly awkward, and the next, he was looking at him like he wanted to strip him out of his clothes and—“Stop right there,” he said, and he wasn’t sure if he was telling himself that or the contradiction eyeing him with newfound knowledge. “Whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it.”
Yep, he was fucked. That wasn’t a word he generally used, but in this case, he was well and truly fucked. He should’ve just stuck to the run-along-now speech.
“Because I'm your teacher.”
“This isn’t high school. I’m an adult.”
He sighed. “That may be true. But I’m your professor and this conversation is inappropriate.”
“How? I just asked if you were gay and you said yes. I don't see what the problem is.”
When Daniel aimed a mischievous grin at him, Brantley knew he was very aware of what the problem was.
“Out,” he said, pointing to the door. “Time to leave, Mr. Finley.”
This time, he made sure to watch Daniel so he knew he was actually leaving. He walked to the door, but at the last minute, he turned around to look back at him. Not willing to back down and show weakness, Brantley kept his eyes on his student as Daniel ran his tongue along his lower lip.
“You should call me Finn. Everyone else does.”
Christ. The kid was going to drive him to an early grave, but damn if he didn’t laugh at his audacity.
“Out,” he said again, and this time Daniel pushed out the door and disappeared into the hall.
