She is too astute. Her powers, though untrained, are growing. She is picking up on the emotions around her, and I am afraid. I'm not afraid of Emma. I'm afraid of the emotions she may feel coming from me. "The beating you just got in the main hall . . . that's just the beginning," I say as I approach one of the stone walls surrounding the gardens. I lift her up before she has a chance to argue, placing her on the wall as I pull the hem of my shirt out of my jeans. I lift it over my head and place it against Emma's scalp. At this rate, and if the last two days prove statistically correct, Emma is going to be seeing me shirtless more than any other female. "I can do it," Emma says, taking my shirt from me as she shifts uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing. I am a few inches away from her, my face three inches below hers where she sits on the low wall, and I am amused by her reaction. "You really haven't had much interaction with the opposite sex, have you?" I ask. It's a personal question, and it's against the rules.
