Between the desks

Chapter 67

Next monday...

Elizabeth's POV

I decided to go to work early this morning. It wasn't even light out yet, but I needed the quiet time. The office was usually deserted this early, and I needed a distraction. The letter from the court was still weighing heavily on my mind, but when I checked my phone, I noticed a text from Elle. She had finally responded, very late, but then again, Elle had always been a terrible texter.

Elle: Hey Liz, yeah, I got the same letter. Want to talk about it over coffee?

Me: Yes! Would love to. Tonight at 8?

Elle: Your place?

Me: Yeah!

Elle: Okay, see you tonight.

Me: Bye!

I smiled at the thought of meeting up with Elle. We hadn't spoken face-to-face about Robbie since everything went down, and I was anxious to hear how she was dealing with the news. Coffee with her later would be a good way to unwind, to talk about the trial and everything hanging over us. But for now, I had to focus.

As I walked into my office, the familiar space didn't do much to ease my nerves. The dim morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. I set my bag down, opened my laptop, and started going through my emails. Routine usually helped to calm me down.

But then I saw an email that made my heart stop. It was from Amren.

Amren never emailed me. My breath caught in my throat as I opened it, my hands suddenly feeling clammy. It was just a simple message about homework, but seeing her name in my inbox sent my pulse racing. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn't help it. Something about her always did this to me.

Hi Professor Olsen,

In the attachment is my homework for tomorrow.

Sincerely, Amren

I stared at her name, my mind swirling. Why did this feel like more than just a homework submission? I opened the attachment, almost dreading what I'd find, and began to read.

It was an essay, but not just any essay. She had written about forbidden love.

As my eyes flew over the words, my heart pounded harder with each line. She wrote with such intensity, such raw emotion. She talked about falling for someone else while being with someone, craving the thrill of a love that wasn't allowed. My pulse quickened, and I could barely breathe as I read on.

Was this about her? Did she fall for someone while still in a relationship? My mind immediately jumped to Jess, and to the girl I'd seen her kissing last saturday. But something in the essay felt different. The way she described the emotions—the passion, the longing—it felt too personal to be fiction.

A ridiculous thought began to form in my mind. Could she be writing about... me?

I shook my head, trying to dismiss the idea, but it wouldn't leave. She couldn't be. I was her professor. This was inappropriate. Impossible. Yet, the words she used, the way she poured her heart into this piece, made me wonder. Made me hope, in some twisted way, that maybe—just maybe—she was talking about me.

I shouldn't be thinking this. I couldn't. This was wrong on every level. We were equals only in the classroom, and even then, there was a boundary that couldn't be crossed. But as I reread the essay, something inside me burned with a desire I hadn't let myself acknowledge until now.

Could she have fallen for me while being with Jess? Was she feeling what I was? Or was this all in my head? My thoughts were spiraling, faster and faster, and I couldn't stop them.

For the first time in my career, I couldn't see this as just a piece of writing to be graded and filed away. This was different. I wanted—no, needed—to know the story behind it. Was this real? Was there something she wasn't saying? Maybe I should just ask her.

But how could I possibly face her now? How could I walk into class later, stand in front of her, and act like I didn't know? My hands were shaking just thinking about it. I couldn't focus. The idea of seeing her, knowing what I'd read, made my chest tighten with nerves and excitement.

I needed answers, but I was terrified of what they might be. If I was wrong, it could ruin everything. But if I was right... I didn't even know what I'd do then.

For now, all I could do was wait. The clock was ticking toward class, and soon, I'd have to stand in front of her with all of this swirling inside me. How could I possibly teach her with this knowledge, this growing tension between us, hanging in the air?