[Mr_Rochester]

Many thanks for the kind comment. All comments very welcome! Here's the next part:

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She had been right. The weekend had been torture, her mind circling around the idea of Mr. Francis reading her book, the story. But all too quickly Monday morning rolled around, and as Sofia wearily ate her breakfast, the reality of seeing him seemed almost too much to bear.

She entered his room for the Monday morning history lesson with her head down, trying hard to look unconcerned, relaxed, preoccupied with her phone. And as the lesson progressed, she did genuinely start to relax. Mr. Francis seemed fine. He was his normal self: breezy, passionate about his subject and interested in what the class had to say about the wisdom of nineteenth century foreign policy. He had asked one of the other students in the class - a boy called Paul, who Sofia knew only in passing - to hand out the books. Sofia's stomach had turned as Paul had put her book in front of her, but had relaxed as she saw that Mr. Francis had written nothing in it. He must have realised it was the wrong book, and passed on quickly. She had tucked it quickly into her back, the relief of getting it back in her grasp tangible.

As the lesson finished, Sofia made sure she was ready to leave. With her history book in one hand, she went past Mr. Francis's desk, put her book down and walked for the door. As she looked up though, she realised he was watching her. "Oh..erm... sorry Sir. I gave you the wrong book on Friday. I thought I'd leave my homework on your desk."

She smiled at him, waiting for his usual polite and warm thanks. But it didn't come.

"Yes. I did notice, " he replied, a wry smile on his lips. "Could you hang on for a moment please."

"Damn," she whispered under her breath again as Mr. Francis looked up to see the last of the class out of his room. She could feel a blush rising on her cheeks, a blush that quickly intensified as he turned to face her. Sofia tried to attempt a normal tone.

"Sorry about that," she said, steeling herself to look him in the eye. "I left in too much of a rush on Friday."

He nodded, and looked down at his feet for a second, as if caught in a moment of hesitation. When his gaze lifted the wry smile traced across his lips again. "In too much of a rush to get your story finished perhaps?"

He knew. He'd read it. Sofia's mind raced for a reasonable excuse, a sensible reply, but she couldn't find one. She was aware she was stuttering, trying to get a word out, any word, but it just wouldn't come. What would he do now? Report her?

It was he who spoke next. "Some story you've got there Sofia," he said, gently. And then, with the same wry smile, "some imagination".

What could she say? "Thank you," would sound ridiculous. Instead, she stayed quiet, looking down at her feet now. She couldn't work out where he was going with this. She wasn't expecting praise.

"I have an offer for you," he said, speaking quietly now, drawing imperceptibly closer. His words caught her by surprise and she looked up quickly to find herself staring into his eyes. "Your story was passionate, and very... arousing... but it was inaccurate, and clumsy at times." He paused before he continued. "I think you're writing about things you only half understand, and I could help you understand them better. If you say no, then that's an end to it. Don't worry, no one else will find out about the story. It's just an offer, for... well, call it research for your next story."

He smiled, his warm, inviting smile this time.