My dark Professor

15

Lily

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the handsome face of a man lined with worry. I know that handsome face. I could never forget that face. Those eyes. Eyes like a rain cloud.

"Lily. Don't ever do that," he says. His voice came out all guttural and whiny. Pleading.

I have never heard his voice in that tone. So I wonder what has him so worried. What shouldn't I do again?

"What?" I ask, confused.

My head feels fuzzy. My body is weak. As if I was hit by a truck.

"You passed out."

When? How?

He answers my voiceless thoughts, or maybe I said it out loud, I have no idea, my head was nothing but a mushy cloud at the moment.

"You didn't eat. You overstressed yourself to make a goddamn cake. For me." His voice thins out as if it pains him to say those words.

The cake. The heat. The dizziness.
I remember it all. Betty warned me to relax, but I couldn't. I wanted to get the cake done in time. I wanted to persuade Mr.Williams to see reason. To see that what we did wasn't his fault.

I asked Betty what his favorite dessert was, and she said it was a strawberry cake. I've never baked. Yet I was willing to try for him. It seems I failed. Miserably.

"I-I wanted to—"

"No."

I hang my mouth open in shock at his harsh tone.

"No." He says gentler this time. "I don't want to hear why you did it. Nothing is worth overworking yourself over. Most especially not me."

I blink up at him.
"But-"

He cuts me off yet again.
"I thought you wouldn't wake up— I was so-"

He takes a deep breath. "I was so scared."

This wasn't the result I was anticipating. I hadn't planned out the night to turn out like this. Exactly the opposite. But I wasn't complaining. His concern for me was doing things to my heart. To my body.

I reach up and place my hand on his cheek. Smoothing over the small frown lines.

"I'm fine," I say.

He doesn't look like he believes me. He refused to even look at me. He was scowling at the food on the bedside table as if it was to blame for everything.

I use the hand still on his cheek to tug his face down so he could look at me.

Our eyes meet in a fiery clash. I tremble at what I find in his.

My body hums in response.

I suddenly felt strong. So strong that I lifted myself until I was sitting on his thighs. On his very sturdy thighs. I bet he could hold me and three others on it without feeling a thing. The image of some unknown girl sitting on him like I was now sent an unpleasant feeling down my spine.

"What are you doing?" He tried to scowl at me, but it was without heat. He knew exactly what I was doing. He looked like he wanted me to continue doing it. So I do.

I twisted my long limbs so my front was facing his. My torso plasters directly on his. My chest was directly on his.
My softness against his hardness. It was a contrast, for sure. A fitting contrast.