Page 84 of Stranger to Love

Dr. Carter began the lecture with her usual poise, though there was a new, sharp edge to her voice. She acknowledged that because Monday’s seminar had been canceled, we’ll have to be exceptionally thorough with our notes as we dived into the statistics portion of the module.

I threw myself into the work, my pen flying across the paper as I tried to drown out my thoughts with data sets and formulas. I couldn't bring myself to use the laptop she had given me that day. I kept pace with her easily enough, but my heart was hammering a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs. It hurt. It actually fucking hurt that she was purposefully navigating the room with her eyes, skipping over me as if I was just an empty chair. Not once did she let her gaze settle on my face.

She posed a complex question to the room, and beside me, Holly’s hand shot up. As Dr. Carter nodded toward her to answer, her eyes briefly, involuntarily, flickered to me.

It was only for a second, but it was enough. She was exactly as cold and distant as I had expected—the perfect professional—but as I held her gaze, I noticed her fingers fidgeting slightly with the edge of her tablet. She couldn’t help it; she felt me looking at her. She knew I was sitting right there, dissecting every move she made, remembering the way those same hands had felt in my hair.

Holly finished her answer, and Dr. Carter immediately snapped her attention away, moving on to the next slide without a word of praise. The dismissal was fucking brutal.

As the lecture droned on, I berated myself over and over. Every time she spoke, every time she adjusted her posture in that red dress, the weight of my own stupidity got heavier. How had I let a woman like her go? Why did I have to be so fucking reactive? I could have stayed. I could have talked to her. Instead, I had chosen to be a prick, and now I was sitting in the front row watching the best thing that had ever happened to me treat me like a stranger.

I was a fucking disaster, and the worst part was, I had done this to myself.

I took my time packing my bag, my movements slow and deliberate as the lecture hall began to empty. I can't stop my eyes from flickering toward the front of the room, watching Dr. Carter as she gathered her things at the podium. She was focused, her movements efficient and sharp, still refusing to acknowledge my presence in the room.

Holly gave my arm a quick squeeze. "I’ve got to run to my seminar, see you later!" she whispered before disappearing into the crowd of exiting students. I was done for the day, which only made the silence between me and the front of the room feel fucking heavier.

I was still staring toward the podium when a soft voice broke my focus.

"Hey."

I looked down to see Billie. The student she was assisting had already left, and she was standing there, looking up at me with a shy, expectant smile. The proximity was a jolt to my system, a sharp reminder of the easy flirtation I had been trying to convince myself I wanted earlier.

She lingered by my desk, her presence a stark contrast to the cold, professional wall Dr. Carter had built between us. That I had built between us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Carter pause for a fraction of a second at the podium, her hands stilling over her laptop as she clearly heard Billie speaking to me.

"Hey yourself," I replied, forcing my voice to steady as I zipped my bag shut. I kept my attention on Billie, trying to ignore the magnetic pull of the woman standing just a few yards away, but the tension in the room was thick enough to choke on.

Billie chewed on her lip, that adorable, nervous habit of hers making an appearance. "Do you have any more classes today?"

I let a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. "No."

Billie nodded quickly, her eyes bright. "Me neither."

I chuckled and crossed my arms, leaning over the edge of my desk so I was looking down at her from the row above. I kept my voice low, intimate. "Well, isn't that a convenient little coincidence? Why do you ask?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear again, her gaze darting around the room. There were still a few stragglers chatting as they headed for the exit, and then there was Dr. Carter. She hadn’t moved in a full minute, but I was steadfastly refusing to look at her. Billie cleared her throat, trying to regain some semblance of professional composure.

"I’m just heading to my office to finish up some work," she said, her voice slightly elevated. "Would you like to discuss the Business Management coursework on the way?"

I bit my lip, suppressed amusement bubbling in my chest. Well, wasn’t that a transparently adorable little excuse? "Sure," I said, my voice smooth. "That would be very helpful."

I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and made my way down the stairs. I met Billie and together, we turned toward the exit. It took every ounce of fucking willpower I possessed—every scrap of pride and self-preservation—to only allow myself one single, fleeting glance back at Dr. Carter before we disappeared into the hallway.

I looked back just as we reached the heavy double doors, and for a split second, I regretted it.

I really fucking regretted it.

Dr. Carter was still standing at the podium, but she wasn't packing anymore. She was frozen, her knuckles white where she was gripping the edge of the wood. Her gaze was fixed right on me—no, it was fixed on the space between me and Billie. The cold, clinical mask she had worn throughout the lecture hadn’t just slipped; it had shattered. In its place was a look of raw, simmering fury mixed with something that looked dangerously like betrayal.

My heart did a fucking violent somersault. I wanted to stop. I wanted to drop the bag, walk back down those stairs, and demand she tell me why she was looking at me like that when she was the one who had let the silence win that morning.

But then Billie’s hand brushed against my arm. "Alex?" she asked softly, her head tilting to the side, blissfully unaware of the silent war happening across the room.

I saw Dr. Carter’s eyes drop to Billie’s hand on my sleeve. Her jaw set, her expression hardening into something so icy it felt like it could flash-freeze the air in the room. She looked away abruptly, yanking her laptop toward her and shoving it into her leather bag with a violence that was completely uncharacteristic of the formidable Dr. Carter in a public setting.

The message was loud and clear: Fine. Go.

I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of my own fucking medicine coating my tongue. "Coming," I muttered to Billie, forced to tear my eyes away.