Between the desks

Chapter 29

Four months had passed...

Narrative POV

Four months had passed, and nothing seemed to have changed. Professor Elizabeth Olsen was still the same icy figure in class, the one all the students whispered about when her back was turned. They called her "the icy bitch," though few dared to say it to her face. She was, after all, still their professor, and her reputation was built on being fair but unwavering. Her authority in the classroom was unmatched, and while students grumbled about her cold demeanor, they respected her teaching style. Elizabeth never allowed personal feelings to cloud her judgment; at least, that was the version of herself she presented to the world.

Her days were the same, a predictable rhythm of teaching, reading, and solitude. After her lectures, she would often retreat to her office for hours, grading papers with the same precision and cold detachment she carried into the classroom. When her work was done, she spent her evenings either with Scarlett, her closest confidante, or alone at home. Scarlett was her only real link to the outside world, the one person who could coax a laugh or a smile from her. Together, they would drink wine, cook, or binge-watch the latest series on TV, but Elizabeth never let the conversations wander too deep. She never shared what was truly on her mind—especially not when it came to the one thing that had haunted her since that night at the club.

At home, Elizabeth found solace in the mundane: cooking simple meals, tending to her small garden, or curling up with a novel. Her tiny herb garden had become a form of meditation, a place where she could lose herself in the care of living things, something that didn't require intellectual analysis or judgment. Still, the peaceful routine didn't quite ease the tension that had been gnawing at her for months.

Elizabeth had tried dating, but it never went anywhere. She'd gone on several dates with different men, all of whom seemed promising at first, but there was no spark, no real connection. They were polite, attractive, even interesting in their own right, but none of them stirred anything deeper inside her. They weren't what she was looking for, though she wasn't even sure what that was anymore. Each date felt more like a chore, something she did out of obligation, as though checking off a box that society had placed in front of her. None of these men could break through the walls she'd built up. And as much as Elizabeth tried to ignore it, her thoughts always seemed to drift back to that night—to Amren.

Amren, her student. The one who, after four long months, still managed to occupy too much space in Elizabeth's mind. She had tried to push it away, to compartmentalize her feelings, but the truth was, something had shifted after that night. Seeing Amren at the club, dancing freely, laughing, and living outside the confines of the academic world had left an indelible mark. And it wasn't just that Amren was a student—no, it was something more complex. There was a pull, an attraction that Elizabeth didn't want to admit, but could no longer deny.

Amren had changed too, in subtle ways. She still dated Jess, the same energetic, carefree girl who seemed to fit so well into Amren's world. Their relationship appeared solid, and Elizabeth had no reason to believe otherwise. Still, whenever she saw them together, a strange knot formed in her stomach, one she couldn't explain. Amren's academic life remained mostly intact. Her grades were strong in nearly every subject—except for one: English.

Despite her love of reading, Amren struggled in Elizabeth's class. It was as if the expectations of the course weighed her down. She would hand in papers with great ideas, but they often lacked the polish and depth professor Olsen demanded. It wasn't for lack of effort. Amren clearly cared, but her work never quite hit the mark. Elizabeth found herself growing increasingly frustrated—not just because Amren was underperforming, but because she saw the potential in her. Every time she handed back a paper with a lower grade than she wanted to give, the tension between them seemed to thicken.

Amren had been slipping further into her own confusion as well. Despite her steady relationship with Jess, there were moments when her thoughts betrayed her, moments she could no longer ignore. She had noticed it more and more—this strange, magnetic pull toward Professor Olsen. It wasn't just the typical admiration a student might feel toward a professor. No, this was different. It was sharper, more intense, and more complicated. It gnawed at her in ways she couldn't explain, least of all to herself.

Amren couldn't shake the memory of that night either. She had seen professorOlsen at Safe, the club where she and Lily went to unwind and let loose. It was supposed to be a night of fun, but seeing Professor Olsen there, dancing with Coach Johansson, had been... jarring. Professor Olsen had been different that night—less guarded, more human. Amren couldn't help but notice how sensual professor Olsen had looked, moving to the music, her usual icy demeanor melted away in the warmth of the club. It had been a strange, almost surreal experience, watching her professor like that, out of her element, but so alluring.

Since then, Amren's feelings had only intensified, though she did everything in her power to suppress them. She was with Jess, and Jess was good to her—funny, supportive, and undeniably attractive. But there were moments when Amren couldn't help but think of professor Olsen, especially when she was alone with Jess. Sometimes, in the middle of making love, her mind would drift to professor Olsen—her sharp gaze, the way her lips curved when she was deep in thought, the crispness of her voice as she commanded the classroom. It was a dangerous line of thought, one that made Amren feel guilty and confused.

Jess hadn't noticed. But Amren knew she couldn't keep pretending forever. The more time passed, the harder it became to ignore the growing tension between her and professor Olsen. Every glance in class, every correction professor Olsen made on her papers, every interaction seemed charged with something unspoken. Was it just her imagination? Or was there something there, something neither of them could acknowledge?

Amren wondered if her professor's icy exterior was just a mask, something she used to protect herself from something. But how could she ever find out? She was her professor, after all, and there were rules—boundaries neither of them could cross.

Still, the thought lingered, refusing to leave her alone. Was Professor Olsen acting this way because of her? Amren didn't know, but the uncertainty was eating her alive. She wanted answers, but more than that, she wanted to understand why she couldn't stop thinking about her professor. And why, no matter how hard she tried, professor Olsen had somehow become the one thing she couldn't get out of her mind.