ILLICIT AFFAIRS | WLW

Fearless

𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗

It was Monday morning, and the sky hung low and grey over the campus, the air thick with the cool promise of rain. Blair Anderson walked briskly through the halls, her bag slung over her shoulder, her mind churning with an overwhelming sense of anticipation she was reluctant to admit to herself.

Two lectures with Professor Kingsley today; Italian in the morning, Spanish in the afternoon. The tension between them, which had been simmering within her since their last confrontation, seemed more palpable, more alive again.

Blair hadn't forgotten the anger and hurt she felt when she realised Catherine had some sort of history with Grace. No wonder Catherine had warned Blair to stay away. The image of them together, the easy familiarity they shared still gnawed at her, and despite everything, she hadn't forgiven Catherine. Yet she also hadn't spoken to her about it directly. She didn't want to give the older woman the satisfaction of knowing how much it has bothered her, but the resentment lingered beneath the surface, waiting for an outlet.

Even though she had spent the entire weekend trying to push Catherine out of her mind, it had been a futile effort. Thomas' name flickered across her mind, a reminder of the routine she had slipped into with him. They were still seeing each other, though every time they were together, Blair couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction creeping in. No matter how many times she told herself that this – whatever this was – was enough, was a big enough of a distraction. From that infuriating, captivating woman who managed to set her world on edge with a single look, a single word.

Blair shook her head, determined to focus as she entered the lecture hall. It was already filling with students, their voices blending into a low murmur of conversation. She took her usual seat toward the back, her eyes scanning the room out of habit as she pulled out her notebook and textbook.

Catherine hadn't arrived yet, but Blair could already feel the low hum of anticipation building inside her. She knew exactly how these lectures would go—Catherine's perfectly controlled performance, the subtle undercurrents of tension that crackled between them, the occasional moments where their eyes would meet and something unspoken would pass between them.

Moments later, the door swung open and Blair's gaze, almost against her will, flicked upward. Catherine swept into the room with the grace and confidence that always seemed to follow her. Dressed in a pair of perfectly tailored black trousers, a white open-neck shirt and a black lapel longline coat, she exuded an air of effortless elegance. The lines of her outfit were sharp, precise, almost militaristic in their neatness. Her heels clicked against the floor, the sound authoritative. And as always, she moved with her usual grace that seemed to command the room's attention the moment she entered.

Blair found herself momentarily captivated by Catherine's appearance, her mind lingering on the way the fabric of her trousers accentuated the length of her legs, the sharp lines of her coat emphasizing her slender frame. There was something magnetic about the way Catherine held herself—an elegance that bordered on arrogance, a confidence that was impossible to ignore. For a brief second, Blair's breath hitched, and she cursed herself for still being drawn to her, despite everything.

As she felt a familiar rush of heat rise in her chest, she shoved the feeling down with a scowl. Focus, she told herself sternly, shaking off the distraction. Whatever allure Catherine held, Blair couldn't afford to let herself fall into it. Not when the woman still held such power over her emotions, even if she didn't show it.

The murmur of voices in the room quieted as Catherine reached the front of the class. She closed the door with a click that echoes through the room before twisting the lock with a practised flick of her wrist, a gesture that was so characteristic of her. She always locked the door at the start of the lectures. A quiet but unmistakable declaration: all the focus would be on her and her alone.