Between the desks

Chapter 49

Amren's POV

As I walked up to the professor Olsen's desk, my heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with the essay in my hands. I tried to play it cool, like this was just another question about some assignment, but inside, I was a mess.

"Professor, I have a question," I said, keeping my voice steady. When she looked up at me, her eyes locking onto mine, I froze for a second. There was something in the way she looked at me, something that sent a strange thrill through my body. My chest tightened as her gaze lingered just a little longer than usual.

"Yes, Amren?" she asked, her voice calm but something unspoken swirled between us. She sat so composed, yet I couldn't help but notice the slight shift in her demeanor as I stepped a little closer. The space between us felt charged, almost electric, and the air around us seemed warmer, heavier.

I handed her my notebook. "I'm having trouble with this part of the essay," I said, trying to focus on the words but finding it hard to ignore how aware I was of her sitting there, her focus entirely on me.

When our fingers brushed as she took the notebook, a spark jolted through me. It wasn't just a casual touch; it was like something had passed between us. Her fingers were soft, warmer than I expected, and I held onto the moment longer than I should've. Amren, just let it go. You're imagining it.

As she scanned the page, giving her usual precise feedback, I wasn't even listening. Not really. Her voice was calm and even, but I felt the pull of something deeper, something that made me hyperaware of everything—the way she held the notebook, her emerald eyes that had a spark in them when she talked, the way her lips moved as she spoke, the faint scent of her perfume, crisp citrus that immediately caught my attention. It wasn't overpowering, just enough to linger in the space around her, clean and fresh with a hint of sharpness, like the zest of a lemon or the bright peel of an orange.. It stirred something in me that I couldn't quite understand.

She handed back the notebook, and again, our fingers touched. This time, I knew she felt it too. The flicker in her eyes told me that. Her voice softened when she said, "Of course," and it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Thank you, professor," I replied, my voice just a little quieter than usual, not because I was nervous, but because something unspoken hung between us.

As I turned to walk back to my seat, I felt her eyes on me. The tension was undeniable now, a weight I carried with me as I sat down. My heart was racing, but not from nerves. It was something else, something thrilling, something I wasn't sure how to handle. 

It hit me like a slow, creeping realization, the kind that builds quietly until it becomes impossible to ignore. As I sat there, the soft hum of the classroom fading into the background, my mind kept circling back to one undeniable truth. Lily was right. Every lingering glance, every slight touch, every stolen moment of eye contact—it all pointed to one thing. I was falling for her.

I was falling for Professor Olsen.