𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

22. you loved it

friday,
october 29th, 2020

EZRA GREYSTONE

It's been two weeks since... well, that.

I haven't seen Luke much, other than at uni of course. Even then, I am out of his classroom quicker than he can blink and I'm not even sure why.

Once I came all over his fingers, sitting with my bare ass on his kitchen counter, he told me how I did so good, and proceeded to pull up my underwear for me and lift me off of the counter. He lead me to his bedroom, where he left me alone to get dressed in his clothes, and he let me sleep in his bed for the night. He took the couch and in the morning we had coffee and talked about insignificant things at his dining table while he graded papers. He drove me home, but not until I got dressed into my dress from the previous night. He let me wear his jacket, but I refused to steal another entire outfit of his.

I can barely look at him.

It isn't that I regret what we did— what he did to me, but maybe I'm just embarrassed. It scares me to be so vulnerable with somebody, especially with my teacher. God, it's so wrong. I can tell he's disappointed in the way I'm reacting, because he frowns whenever he catches me staring at him in class. I think he's been wanting to talk to me after each lecture, but I'm practically running away before he gets the chance.

Lola's confused. She has noticed it's been weird since the night he took me home with him. Surprisingly, she's been more concerned than anything. She hasn't made any jokes about my raunchy relationship with our professor, which is worrying in itself.

I take a deep breath, staring at the wood of the shut door to the familiar lecture hall.

Luke's leather jacket is folded in my arms, along with his joggers from weeks ago. I decided I needed to wash his t-shirt and sweatshirt before returning them.

God, does he even want to see me at this stage?

I briefly close my eyes, preparing to face him properly for the first time in two weeks. I raise a closed fist to his door, knocking thrice. I hear his voice call from inside, so I take it upon myself to open the door and peak my head around it to glance inside.

Luke double takes, straightening up from his hunched over form while his lips part, "Ezra," he breathes, almost as if he can't believe I'm here, willingly.

I timidly step inside, closing the door behind me and shuffling over to his desk. He stands up, eyeing me over once. I notice how exhausted he looks, dim bags under his usually bright eyes and hair an unruly mess. Not that it doesn't look good, it does, but he looks so tired.

"Hi," I squeak out, earning a little breathy chuckle from the 6'2 man in front of me.

"Hey," he whispers, walking around his desk to join me at the front of it, not taking his eyes off of me. "Are you alright?" he asks slowly, as if he's scared of my response.

I avert my eyes to the bundle of clothes in my arms, "Um, I brought your jacket, and your joggers. But I need to run your sweatshirt and t-shirt through the wash before giving them back, if that's okay. And uh, I know I'm early for class but I just, I didn't want anybody seeing me handing over your clothes to you, so I—"

"Ezra," Luke cuts me off, and I flick my eyes up to meet his soft ones, "Where the fuck have you been?" he whispers, eyebrows tugging in concernedly.

I frown, taking it upon myself to set his clothes on top of his desk, "What do you mean? I haven't missed a class yet."

Luke shakes his head, stepping forward, "You've been different. Is everything okay? Was what happened a couple weeks back not... okay? Did I do something wrong, Ezra? Tell me, please. I can't stand worrying about you."