14: A Game Over Whiskey

Teacher Greg grinned as Steffy walked into the classroom. A small crowd of students immediately gathered around her, chattering about her sudden transformation.

Her long blonde hair was now dyed an inky black, and she casually brushed off their curiosity with a polite smile. "Just a change of heart," she said lightly, then added with a smirk, "Maybe I look more school-appropriate this way."

Greg watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He wanted to say something, perhaps a compliment but stopped himself. He didn't want anyone misinterpreting his words—he'd already dealt with awkward rumors after a misunderstanding with Charlotte Quinto.

Still, he couldn't deny that Steffy intrigued him. She had a small, striking face, lips painted crimson, and skin so pale it looked unreal under the fluorescent lights. Her new look suited her, but it wasn't just her appearance that turned heads. Her sharp wit and incisive opinions livened up class discussions, making her a student he couldn't help but notice. No wonder her peers adored her.

Greg chuckled, making a mental note to ask her out later. 'It would be a friendly drink, he told himself, nothing inappropriate.'

But the bigger surprise came when she actually said yes.

"It's bold, isn't it?" Steffy said that evening, twirling her straw in her drink. "A high school teacher taking his eleventh-grade student out for a drink. Scandalous, really." She raised a brow and leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying her own words. "And in a dingy bar like this? I think the Sector of Education would be thrilled."

"Oh, Steffy," Greg replied with a smirk. "You're always so dramatic."

"Oh, sir Greg," she teased back, mimicking his tone. "You just can't resist my smart mouth."

Greg laughed, though his eyes betrayed something else. It wasn't just her sharp tongue that captivated him tonight. The neckline of her dress drew his gaze, and despite himself, he found it hard to look away. Steffy leaned casually, sipping her juice with an ease that suggested she knew exactly the effect she had on him. He cleared his throat, reaching for his beer.

"I'm bored," she declared suddenly, scanning the room.

"What do you want to do?" Greg asked, trying to sound casual. He pushed his beer toward her. "Here, why don't you try this?"

"Seriously?" She raised a brow, looking amused. "Inviting me to a bar is one thing, but handing me alcohol? I'm still a minor, you know."

"Guess I'm a bad influence then," he joked, lifting the drink back toward himself. But before he could take a sip, Steffy stopped him, her fingers brushing his.

"I didn't say I wouldn't drink it," she said with a grin. Taking the bottle from him, she expertly opened it and took a long, deliberate swig.

"Surprised?" she asked, wiping her lips.

Greg blinked, struggling to hide his amusement. "You should slow down."

"Relax," Steffy said. "I know how to handle my poison." She raised her hand to gesture to a passing waitress. "I'll take two glasses of Johnnie Walker Blue, on the rocks."

The waitress hesitated, her eyes darting to Steffy's youthful face, but eventually scribbled the order.

Greg stifled a laugh, watching the exchange. "She thinks you're way too young for whiskey," he muttered as the waitress walked off.

"She's not wrong," Steffy admitted with a chuckle. "But that's her problem, not mine."

Moments later, the waitress returned, placing the drinks on the table with an air of uncertainty. Steffy tipped her generously, flashing a sly grin.

"You drink, and you tip big. Who taught you that?" Greg asked, raising a brow. "Your dad?"

"Maybe," she said, pulling a cigarette from her purse. With practiced ease, she lit it and took a drag, blowing the smoke upward. The waitress, passing by again, looked completely flustered.

"You smoke, too," Greg said, shaking his head. "I'm almost afraid to ask what else you do."

"Does that turn you off?" Steffy shot back, her voice laced with teasing.

"Quite the opposite," Greg admitted before catching himself.

"Good." Steffy slid one of the whiskey glasses toward him. "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"Two Truths, One Lie," she said, grinning mischievously. "I'll say three things. You guess which one's the lie. If you're right, I drink. If you're wrong, you do. Got it?"

Greg sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. Go ahead."

"I'm a lesbian. I have three credit cards in my wallet. I'm not rich."

Greg laughed. "Now I see what you're doing here."

Steffy smirked, tossing back her drink. "Correct. So, stop hitting on me, sir Greg. I'm not interested in men." She winked and slid the empty glass aside. "Your turn."

Greg hesitated, then leaned forward with a sly smile. "I have a scar on my face. The principal is my father. I want to kiss my student tonight."

Steffy's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Hmm. You do have a scar, though you hide it well. And Mr. Seson is not your father. That's the lie. As for the last one…" She trailed off, standing abruptly. "Too bad for you—I already told you I'm not into guys. But we can dance."

Before Greg could respond, she grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

Under the pulsing lights, her dark hair gleamed, and the whiskey coursing through his veins made everything feel dreamlike. Steffy swayed to the music, her body brushing against his, and he felt a rush of heat he couldn't ignore.

When she tilted her head up toward him, their faces close enough to touch, he lost what little restraint he had left. Pulling her closer, he kissed her hard, the moment electric and forbidden.