Page 22 of Stranger to Love

The line went dead. I huffed, tossing the phone onto the desk, and pulled my laptop toward me. I flipped the lid open with a sharp, decisive movement, the bright glow of the screen illuminating the quiet office.

Work. It was always the best antidote. It was best to simply throw myself into the data, the logistics, and the upcoming lectures.

Alex was a student. She was exactly like any other first-year undergraduate in the department, and she would be treated as such. To view her as anything else—to let my mind wander into the dangerous, latent chemistry that had just vibrated between us—was unacceptable. Frankly, it was predatory of me to be thinking any different. I was her lecturer; she was my student. That was the boundary. It had to be.

I pulled up the spreadsheet for the mid-term metrics, forced my jaw to unlock, and began to type.

Chapter 6

Alex

Looking back on it now, a few weeks later, I could see how completely reckless I had been.

The memory was vivid, even then. I remembered leaning back against the cool plaster of the hallway wall right after Dr. Carter had stormed off, her heels doing that angry, rhythmic clack-clack-clack down the stone floor. My jaw was still throbbing from the punch I’d taken on Friday night, but my mind was entirely focused on the small, neatly folded piece of paper I’d just pulled out of my pocket. The paper had felt so thin, like it might dissolve if I held it too long.

Time to read what Blondie wrote.

I had unfolded it carefully. Her handwriting was neat, small, and slanted slightly—completely different from the blocky, controlled professionalism I would have expected from a teaching assistant. It looked... nervous.

The note simply read:

Come to my office (room 22C, main business building) during your next free period. - B

A slow, delighted smirk had spread across my face. I pocketed the paper and turned to head down the hall, skipping the library entirely.

I reached her office in near record time. It was an almost unmarked door, tucked away in a quiet, random hallway on the upper floor of the main business building. There were no classrooms down there, so the area was deserted. In my head, there was literally no reason for her to have invited me to a location like that other than for a hookup, and there was absolutely no chance I was declining the invitation.

I paused outside, swiftly adjusting my shirt, re-tucking it into my jeans, and running my hands through my hair using the reflection in a nearby display case. I looked significantly better than I had on Friday night, so I took it as a win.

Without further hesitation, I knocked once.

The door opened instantly, as if she had been standing right on the other side, waiting for me.

Billie stepped back quickly, her hand flying up to smooth her already immaculate blonde hair. Her eyes darted nervously up and down the completely empty corridor, confirming we were alone, before she pulled me inside and slammed the door shut with a decisive, final click.

The office was small and neat, dominated by a large desk covered in organised stacks of papers and thick textbooks. It smelled faintly of expensive paper and that familiar, lovely perfume of hers. Billie was moving with a sudden, tense energy that completely belied her usually composed exterior in the seminar rooms.

“I didn’t expect you this quickly,” she whispered, her voice tight, clearly anxious about the massive professional boundary she had just obliterated.

I leaned back against the closed door, thoroughly enjoying her flustered state. “You invited me to a deserted hallway during my free period, Blondie. I skipped lunch for this.”

She pursed her lips—that familiar, exasperated expression. “It’s Billie, Alex. And you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here because you asked,” I countered, pushing off the door and taking a deliberate step toward her desk. “So, why the secret meeting?”

She closed her eyes briefly, pushing a hand over her face in frustration. “What did Dr. Carter hold you back for?” She walked over to her desk chair but didn't sit, instead gripping the back of it like an anchor in a storm.

I raised an eyebrow, relishing the moment. “Dr. Carter noticed the bruise on my face,” I pointed out, stepping closer still. “And now she wants me to report any future violence directly to her. Looks like she’s taking ownership of my safety. Tough competition, Blondie.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “There is no competition.”

I grinned. “Someone’s confident.”

She let out a stifled groan, her hand tightening visibly on the back of the chair. “You know what I meant.”

I shook my head, still amused. “Seriously, why am I here?”

She hesitated, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I was worried Dr. Carter had noticed something.”