Between the desks

Chapter 32

Elizabeth's POV

My heart skipped a beat when Amren walked back into the classroom after everyone had left. I wasn't expecting it. I had just wrapped up the lecture, my mind already moving on to the next part of my day, when I saw her hesitate at the door. I immediately stiffened, reminding myself to keep my composure, to remain the "icy bitch" they all whispered about behind my back. That name hadn't slipped past me. It stung sometimes, but it also served its purpose—distance.

When she stepped closer, her eyes a little nervous, I fought to keep my mask in place. Don't let her see. Don't let her know. But then, she asked me for help. The way her voice carried a hint of vulnerability, a softness I didn't expect, caught me off guard. It wasn't just the words—it was her. She wasn't afraid to ask, despite my reputation. That... did something to me.

In that moment, despite my best efforts to stay cool and detached, I felt a warmth stir in my chest. I hated that. But I couldn't deny it—I was proud of her. Proud that she didn't let my icy demeanor stop her from seeking what she needed. It took strength to do that. Strength that I admired in her, though I'd never admit it aloud.

Liz, stop this, I chastised myself internally. This is exactly why you have to keep the distance. She's a student. You're her professor. Keep the lines clear.

Still, as we discussed the possibility of tutoring sessions, I found myself agreeing. Thursdays after class, every week. It felt like a mistake the second I said yes, yet I couldn't take it back. She left with a quiet "thank you," and the door clicked shut behind her.

I exhaled. My chest was tight, my thoughts swirling with a dangerous mix of emotions. Fear, curiosity, and—oddly enough—flattery. I was flattered that she wanted my help. But also, I was terrified. What if this blurred the line even further? I had to keep control of the situation. Of myself.

The second she was gone, I grabbed my phone, needing to talk it out with someone who knew me better than anyone else. Scarlett. I dialed her number, my fingers tapping nervously against the desk.

"Hi, Liz. What's up?" Scar's voice was soft, welcoming. I could already imagine her sitting in some cozy corner with her coffee, completely unbothered by the chaos in my mind.

"Hey, Scar. Do you have time for a coffee date?" The sharpness I'd carried with me all morning was gone from my voice. I was back to being Liz with her, not Professor Olsen.

"Sure, see you in five!" Her tone was light, and I could hear the smile in her voice. That grounded me a bit, the knowledge that someone knew me beyond the professional armor I wore.

I hung up and smiled to myself, a little breathless from the events of the last few minutes. I grabbed my leather jacket and my bag, heading out into the hallway. Students were milling about, and a few of them avoided eye contact with me, as they usually did. I bit back a smirk. The power I held over them, this image of an unapproachable professor, made me feel... in control. But also, like a bit of a psycho. What kind of person enjoys this?

I practically ran to Free, my favorite coffee spot. Scarlett was already there, waving at me from a table by the window. "Hey, Lizzie!" she greeted me with a bright smile as I approached.

"Hi, Scar!" I slid into the chair across from her, feeling lighter in her presence. There was something so easy about being around her. She didn't expect me to be the "icy professor." She just let me be.

We spent the next few minutes catching up on our day—how her class went, the chaos of mine—but I knew I had to tell her what had just happened. I could feel it buzzing under my skin, like I needed to confess before it consumed me.

"So... Amren asked me for personal tutoring today," I said, trying to keep my voice casual.

Scarlett blinked, clearly surprised. "She asked for tutoring?"

"Yeah," I nodded, leaning back in my chair. "She's struggling in my class."

"Okay..." She stretched the word, and I could hear the undercurrent of doubt in her voice. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes," I replied, blunt and straightforward. No point in dancing around it.

Scarlett's brows furrowed. "And you're... cool with that?" There was a note of concern in her voice, the kind that made my stomach twist a little.

"It's my job, Scar," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'm a professor. I'm supposed to help my students when they ask."

"I know that," Scarlett said, her tone soft but pointed. "But... are you sure this is a good idea?"

I frowned, her words hitting closer to the mark than I wanted to admit. "I'm fine. I can handle it. It's just tutoring."

Scarlett studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. "Alright," she said finally. "If you're sure you're okay with it, then I support you. But, Liz..." She trailed off, as if unsure how to phrase what she was thinking.

"But what?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued.

Scarlett hesitated before continuing. "Just... be careful, okay?"

I scoffed, trying to brush off her concern. "I'm not worked up. It's fine."

But as I said the words, I knew she could see through me. I just hoped I could keep convincing myself they were true.