The Hook Up

•3•

You stared at the clock on your office wall, the ticking of the second hand loud in the otherwise quiet room. It was 4:55 p.m., and Leighton would be here any minute. You had decided to keep your office hours strictly professional, yet the anticipation buzzing in your chest felt far from it. You reminded yourself that this was just another tutoring session, a chance to help a student in need. Nothing more.

But deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself.

At exactly 5:00 p.m., there was a soft knock on your door. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves. "Come in," you called out, forcing a neutral tone.

Leighton stepped in, her usual casual attire replaced by something slightly more polished—a black sweater that clung to her frame, paired with fitted jeans. She carried a thick textbook under one arm and her hair was swept back in a neat ponytail. "Hi, Professor," she greeted, her voice calm, her smile measured. "I hope I'm not too early."

"Right on time," you replied, gesturing for her to take a seat across from you. "Ready to get started?"

She nodded, setting her book on the desk. "Absolutely. I reviewed the material you suggested, but there are still a few areas I'm struggling with. Particularly integration by parts."

You nodded, glad for the straightforward start. "Alright, let's go over it." You pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began walking her through the method, writing down each step carefully. Leighton listened attentively, her brows furrowed in concentration, occasionally biting her lip when she found something particularly challenging. You tried to focus on the lesson, on the math, on anything but the way her lips moved or the way her hair fell against her neck.

She leaned in closer, peering over at your notes, her shoulder brushing against yours. You felt a jolt run through you, but you forced yourself to keep going, to maintain the facade of professionalism.

"See? It's just about finding the right substitution," you continued, your voice sounding more even than you felt. "Once you have that, the rest of the integration becomes much simpler."

Leighton nodded, scribbling down notes. "Right. I get the theory; it's just applying it that's tricky."

You offered a reassuring smile. "That's normal. Practice is key. I'll give you some extra problems to work through, and we can review them together next time."

She looked up, her blue eyes locking with yours. "Thank you," she said softly. "I appreciate all the extra help. I know I must be a bit of a burden."

"You're not a burden, Leighton," you replied, perhaps too quickly. "It's my job to help students succeed."

She smiled again, but this time it was softer, almost vulnerable. "Still, I appreciate it. Most professors wouldn't go out of their way like this."

You shifted in your chair, feeling the conversation drifting away from safe territory. "Well, I'm not most professors," you said lightly, trying to steer it back to the lesson. "Now, let's look at a different example..."

But Leighton seemed to have something else on her mind. "You know," she began, leaning back in her chair, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said—about keeping things professional, starting over with a clean slate."

You tensed, unsure where this was going. "And?"

"And I agree. I really do. I want to do well in this class, and I don't want anything to get in the way of that," she said, her tone earnest. "But I also... I don't know. I feel like there's still this weird tension between us."

You looked down at your notes, trying to find the right words. "It's natural, given the circumstances," you said carefully. "But I think we're doing a good job of moving past it, don't you?"

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the textbook. "I guess... I just don't want you to feel like you have to be on guard all the time. I mean, I'm not going to do anything that could get you in trouble."

You nodded slowly. "I appreciate that. Really, I do. But it's my responsibility to maintain certain boundaries. For both our sakes."

Leighton sighed, looking thoughtful. "I get it. It's just... it's hard, you know? Trying to pretend like there's nothing there when there clearly is."

You swallowed hard, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest. "Leighton," you began, your voice more strained than you intended, "there can't be anything there. Do you understand?"

She looked up at you, her expression searching. "Why not?" she asked softly. "We're both adults, aren't we?"

Your pulse quickened, a mix of frustration and something else—something you weren't ready to name. "Because I'm your professor," you replied firmly. "And that's all I can be. For both of us."

Leighton studied your face for a moment, her eyes scanning yours as if searching for something. "I just... I don't want you to think I'm trying to make this harder for you," she said quietly. "I really do want to respect your boundaries."

"I know," you replied, softer this time. "And I appreciate that. But the best way to do that is to keep things professional. We're here to focus on your studies, nothing else."

She nodded, though she still seemed conflicted. "Okay," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

There was a pause, a charged silence hanging between you, and you could feel the tension in the room like a living thing. You cleared your throat, trying to dispel it. "Why don't we finish up with some practice problems?" you suggested, sliding the paper toward her. "I think you'll find these helpful."

Leighton took the paper, her fingers brushing yours briefly, and you felt that electric jolt again. She nodded, her expression more focused now. "Alright. Let's do that."

The rest of the session went smoothly enough, but the air between you remained charged, filled with unsaid words and complicated emotions. As the hour drew to a close, you felt both relieved and strangely disappointed.

"Well, that's all the time we have for today," you said, glancing at the clock. "You did well. Just keep practicing, and I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

Leighton smiled, packing up her things. "Thanks, Professor. I really appreciate the help." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "And I promise... I'll respect your boundaries."

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. "Thank you, Leighton. I'll see you in class."

She left the office, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You slumped back in your chair, staring at the door she had just closed behind her. You had drawn a line in the sand, made it clear where you stood. But why did it feel like that line was getting blurrier by the day?

---

Later that evening, you sat in your quiet apartment, nursing a glass of wine and staring at the stack of papers you needed to grade. Your phone buzzed on the table beside you, and you picked it up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the notification.

It was a message from an unknown number. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitant, but curiosity got the better of you.

**Unknown Number:** *Hi, it's Leighton. Just wanted to say thanks again for today. I meant what I said—I'm going to do my best to make this easy for both of us.*

You stared at the message, your mind spinning. You knew you should ignore it, delete it, stick to the boundaries you'd set. But instead, you found yourself typing a response before you could stop yourself.

**You:** *You're welcome, Leighton. Just keep focused on the work. That's all that matters.*

Her reply came almost immediately.

**Leighton:** *I will, Professor. See you in class.*

You set your phone down, taking a long sip of wine, trying to shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something you couldn't quite see, something that could change everything if you let it. And as much as you told yourself you needed to stay away, you couldn't help but feel that you were already too close.