Four hundred and two[JENSOO]

4

Jennie is sure the consequences will be terrible. That she and Jisoo themselves will regret that they did not have time to stop in time.

And Jisoo looked at Jennie defiantly, cheekily lifting her chin, as if she was shouting: "I see right through you." But not a damn thing. An accidentally dropped drawing, which at least turned out to be a fish hook, on which a woman fell, did not mean a total victory. It's just a drawing that Jennie picked up. It does not mean absolutely nothing: the woman did not please herself, thinking about how Jisoo drew it, the brown-haired woman did not hang it in front of her desk, reminding herself of her. She just didn't throw it away.

She regretted it.

Jennie narrowed her eyes, and her gaze was cold, not mocking, as Jisoo thought. Jennie didn't like it when people inconvenienced her and cornered her, especially female students who know absolutely nothing about subordination. Although Jisoo was half a head shorter than the woman, she looked down on her as if from above.

Gotcha, honey?

-Should I give it back?- Jisoo was even confused for a second because of this answer.

Apart from the banal "no" or "yes", or the false "I do not know what you are talking about", she could not assume such a direct question. It would seem that there are no other answers here, but Jennie subdued the girl in a second with her intonation: without cold or anger, without demonstrative playfulness — her voice was completely indifferent.

-No, it was meant for you. - Jisoo blinked in confusion, feeling awkward.

-Well, you didn't give it to me personally, maybe you didn't want the drawing to come to me.

The girl's cheeks turned pink, and her gaze ran around, avoiding direct contact with the woman's brown eyes. Why did she even think that she could claim the attention of the one who destroyed her with just one voice? And under the gaze, I wanted to completely fall into the ground.

-I wanted to.- Out of the corner of her eye, Jisoo noticed how the corners of Jennie's lips traitorously stretched upwards.

-That's great.- The woman hid her hands in the pockets of her coat and carefully studied the girl's face, slightly embarrassed and very young.- But the next time you want to corner me or try to embarrass me, think about it twice, okay?

And Jennie herself did not understand why the hell it was impossible to just leave after the winning remark, why it was necessary to reach out to Jisoo's face, touching her cheek with her fingers for exactly a fraction of a second. The brunette froze, completely ceasing to breathe, and she seemed to feel the tips of someone else's fingers burning her skin, as her chest became uncomfortably tight, and her knees weakened. And before she could look up to silently, like a fish, look at the woman who was driving her crazy with one innocent touch, Jennie pulled her hand away and quickly turned around, running back to the campus.

The woman was shaking all the way home. She was angry at herself and cursed her carelessness — not only was touching a stranger an intimate moment in itself, violating any bounds of decency, since the girl was her student, which cast doubt on Jennie's professional qualities. She did not like it when other teachers were too tactile with students, if the teaching did not require it, and she herself, unable to keep a frank desire, fell into the same nets.

Jisoo was beautiful — it's hard to argue with this, but beauty is not a reason to climb into someone's underpants and give yourself up to passion when you want it. Jennie just didn't want all these problems, which would definitely have overtaken her if she had an affair with a student. Even the very thought of such a thing amused and excited her at the same time. She had heard enough of such stories, and among the bulk of fleeting novels there were those where everything ended even in marriage. But is it worth saying that all these stories were exclusively about heterosexuals, where some silly student fell in love with an adult teacher who, on a psychological level, was practically her dad. Another thing is a woman. What end awaits them? Family, marriage, children? Jennie squeezed the steering wheel harder, forcing herself to distract from these thoughts, but her fantasy only progressed, forcing her to reproduce in her head all those plots that she could have experienced if she had fallen for this hook.