I was standing in front of Professor Anderson's office door, just at 3:58 PM, my hand poised over the dark wood unable to knock.
This was a terrible idea. I should turn around, e-mail him some excuse, avoid him for the rest of the semester. But my body wouldn't be moved, magnetized to him like a moth to the flame that would certainly incinerate me.
On the dot 4:00 PM, the door slid open.
Professor Anderson was there, in charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up to the elbows and strong forearms exposed. His hair was ruffled in back, as though he had just been running his hands through it. Those blue eyes saw into my soul and I felt weak in the knees.
"You're on time," he said, with professional cool. "Come in."
I entered his office, and he closed the door behind me with a muffled click that sounded inconceivably loud. It was a small but elegant space: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves; a huge mahogany desk; leather chairs; and a window looking out onto the campus quad.
Too intimate.
"Sit," he commanded again, indicating the chair on the other side of his desk.
I was seated, clutching my nag in my lap like a shield. He moved around the desk but didn't sit. Instead, he leaned against it, arms crossed, studying me with an unreadable expression.
There was a silence between us that felt heavy with all the things we weren't saying.
"Brooklyn," he finally said, and the sound of my name on his lips turned my stomach over. "We need to establish boundaries."
"Okay," I whispered.
"What happened between us was a mistake. I thought you were older. I had no idea you'd end up in my class." He paused, jaw tightening. "But, you're in my classroom, which means there are rules which we both need to follow."
"I understand."
"Do you?" He pushed away from the desk and took a step forward. "Because the way you looked at me today in class, and the way you're looking at me right now..." Another step. "It's making this very difficult."
My breath caught. "I'm not even looking at you, okay."
"Liar." He was standing right in front of me now, looming over me, close enough for me to smell his cologne. "To me you're giving me the same look like at the bar. Like you want me to forget every rule and,"
"Professor Anderson—"
"Don't call me that." His voice was rough, strained. "Not when we're alone. Not when you're staring at me like that."
"Then what should I call you when I address you? I got up and moved to her until we were apart by just inches. I don't know what came over me, if it was that look of desire in his eyes, or the stupid part of myself that went home with this man one night.
"Daniel?"
I jerked my arm, his touch was electric. "You need to leave."
"Why?" I challenged, my heart hammering. "Because you may do something that you regret?"
"Because I'm trying to do the right thing here and you're making it impossible." He held me a little more firmly, not painfully, but encircling. "I could lose everything. My employment, my professional reputation. Everything I've worked for."
"Then let me go," I replied gently.
His eyes darkened. "I can't."
We glared at one another, the ambience crackling with tension. I could almost see the battle in him, professional ethics versus sheer want. I was supposed to be the responsible one. I should walk away.
Instead, I leaned closer.
"Brooklyn," he cautioned, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Don't—"
A loud rap on the door snapped us both apart.
"Professor Anderson?" A woman's voice sounded outside the door. "It's Addison. I have a question about the syllabus?"
Daniel's jaw tightened and frustration ghosted his expression. He took a step back, putting professional space between us, and said, "Just one moment."
He bit me with a look of mild regret. "We're not finished with this discussion. But for now, you need to go."
"When—"
"Friday. Go to my office Friday 4pm. We'll discuss your... academic progress." The way he said it, we'd be talking about a whole lot more than schoolwork.
I snatched my bag and went to the door but his hand snagged my arm, turning me around.
"One more thing," he whispered, his lips grazing my ear. "That boyfriend of yours making out with you in the quad? He doesn't deserve you. And then how you kissed him back, like you were trying to feel something."
After which, he let go of me and opened the door.
Addison was wearing a tight crop top and designer jeans when she opened the door, her eyes narrowing when they landed on me. "Brooklyn? What are you doing here?"
"Just going out," I said, and edged past her into the hall.
"Bye, Brook!" she sweetly called out to me, but I knew the venom that simmered underneath.
As I turned to leave, I overheard her melodious voice coming through the open door. "Professor Anderson, I'm a little lost on this stuff. "Do you reckon you could teach me alone?"
"You've been acting strange all day," Ella said that night in my dorm room. "Seriously, what's going on? And don't even say it, because I know you better than that."
I just wanted to pour my heart out to her. About Daniel, about the bar, about what was happening to me. But how would I tell without sounding crazy?
"Just worried about classes," I lied.
My phone vibrated before Ella could question me more.
Jayce: I can't wait for tomorrow night's party, baby. Wear that red dress I love. Want to show you off
I looked at the message, guilt roiling inside me. Jayce was really just trying to make things work. He had been the perfect boyfriend — romantic, attentive, apologetic. I should be happy.
Then why, when he touched me, did I feel nothing at all?
Why did my skin burn just thinking about Daniel?
Another text pinged, this one from an unknown number.
Unknown: I found your notebook in my office. I will look after it until Friday. Don't be late. -DA
My heart raced. He had my number. He'd texted me.
This was crossing a line. We both knew it.
Me: Thank you, Professor Anderson.
Unknown: Daniel. When we're alone, you can call me Daniel.
I sat and stared at the message with my thumb over the keyboard. I ought to say that this was improper of him. Would set those boundaries he'd spoken of.
Me: Goodnight, Daniel.
Unknown: Goodnight, Brooklyn. Sweet dreams.
I erased both numbers from my recent so that Jayce wouldn't catch me–but I had already committed the digits to memory.
"Who are you texting?" Ella asked, attempting to glance at my phone.
"Nobody," I chimed quickly, locking the screen. "Just Jayce."
"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced. "Well, I'm looking forward to the Oasis party tomorrow. Heard Kappa Alpha go hard. And, you know, you've got to have some fun. You've been so tense lately."
Fun. Right. Yay, because what I definitely needed was to go to a party with my cheating boyfriend to spend all evening obsessing over my forbidden professor.
My phone buzzed again.
Scarlett: I heard you're going to Kappa Alpha tomorrow. How cute. See you there, sis.
My blood ran cold.
Scarlett. In the confusion, I'd all but forgotten she was there. She should've been at another school. What was she doing back? And why was she headed to the same party?
Me: I thought you went to State.
Scarlett: Change of plans. Transferred. Isn't that wonderful? At least we get to hang out. One big happy family.
This couldn't be happening.
"Brook? You look like you're sick," Ella said, worried.
I glanced up at my best friend, then back at the messages from Daniel and Scarlett.