Between the desks

Chapter 36

Amren's POV

I stood still, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach as I watched Lily grab my shoulder. "Good luck with the tutoring," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear, "remember, she's hot but ice cold." Her cheeky grin told me she was teasing, but it didn't help settle the nerves that were already bubbling inside me. I gave her a half-hearted glare, trying to hold back a laugh, but it quickly faded into a nervous smile.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way toward Professor Olsen's desk. My heart was pounding a little too fast, and my palms were sweaty, but I forced myself to act calm. She was bent over her desk, absorbed in whatever work she was finishing before our session.

"Hi," I managed to say, my voice slightly shaky.

She straightened up slowly, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. "Hello, Amren," she said, her tone clipped and cold. "I didn't book this classroom for any longer, so we'll have to continue the tutoring in my office." Her voice was laced with that bitterness she never seemed to shake, and her eyes were unreadable, as usual.

"Okay," I nodded, trying not to let my nerves show. I had prepared for this—at least, I thought I had.

"Let's go." She didn't wait for me to respond, turning and walking briskly toward the door. I followed, and despite the anxiety coursing through me, I couldn't help but notice how she moved. There was something effortlessly graceful about the way she carried herself, even in her stern, distant demeanor.

As we made our way down the hallway, I found my thoughts drifting. I glanced at the back of her figure, my mind wandering where it shouldn't, and I quickly forced my eyes back ahead. Focus. This is tutoring, I reminded myself.

When we reached her office, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for me to enter first. I stepped inside, the scent of old books filling the air. Her office was exactly how I imagined it—dark, imposing, with dark green walls and an oversized, robust wooden desk in the center. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with well-worn volumes that looked like they'd been read a hundred times over. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating, but oddly cozy in a way.

"Take a seat," she said, her voice sharp as usual. She closed the door behind us and moved toward her chair behind the desk, settling down with a fluid motion that contrasted with her cold demeanor. I sat across from her, trying to ignore the tension I felt sitting in her space.

"Let's begin," she said, her tone icy again. "I hope you came prepared."

I nodded, offering her a small smile, hoping to ease the tension between us. "Of course I did."

The left corner of her mouth lifted slightly in what I could only describe as the smallest hint of a smile—if you could even call it that. Her eyes softened just for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Good," she said, her voice firm and authoritative, snapping me back into focus.

I opened my notebook, laying out the literature we had covered that week. The silence in the room was thick, and I could feel the weight of her gaze on me. I flipped to the section I had struggled with, the words swimming before my eyes as my nerves fought to take over.

"Alright," Professor Olsen said, her tone still cold but more instructive now. "Read the part you're having trouble with."

I cleared my throat, glancing down at the page. "It's this part here," I said, pointing to a particularly dense passage. I began to read aloud, stumbling slightly over the words. I could feel her eyes boring into me, analyzing every syllable that came out of my mouth.

When I finished, she leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "You're overthinking it," she said bluntly. "It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be. You need to stop focusing on each individual word and look at the passage as a whole."