Between the desks

Chapter 101

Amren's POV

The air between us felt thick as we stepped out of the café and into the cool night. I paused outside my car, the weight of our earlier tension still lingering, trailing us like a shadow. The night was quiet, a stark contrast to the slow, heady chaos of emotions that had unraveled inside me over the last hour.

Lizzie seemed far off, almost distant, her expression unreadable. She didn't say a word as I unlocked the car, settling into the passenger seat without a glance in my direction. It was unlike her, this quiet—especially after how vibrant, how completely alive she'd seemed earlier.

I climbed into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel, wrestling with a guilt that gnawed at me for cutting the night short. I knew I shouldn't be driving, but I also didn't want to be the one to break the fragile silence that had fallen between us. Lizzie was usually the one who took control, who leaned in, commanding the space between us with ease, but now... she was quiet, withdrawn in a way that felt unsettling.

I glanced over at her, watching her hands fiddle absentmindedly with the hem of her blazer. My heart sank a little.

"Professor," I said softly, trying to pull her back to me, back into the space that felt so strangely empty now. She tilted her head slightly, but her gaze was fixed on something distant beyond the windshield.

"Yes?" Her voice was low, almost tentative—like she wasn't sure what I would say next, or perhaps she was already bracing herself.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently, trying to keep my voice even. "You seem... different. Is it... something I said?"

She turned her head slowly, meeting my eyes. Her expression softened for a moment, a brief flicker of vulnerability breaking through her usual composure. "No, Amren. It's not anything you did," she murmured, her tone reassuring, but something in her voice told me there was more to it.

"Then what is it?" I pressed, my voice quieter. I wasn't sure what I hoped to hear, but I couldn't stand the weight of this silence between us, the way it felt like she was pulling away.

She sighed softly, glancing away again. "I'm... just not used to this," she admitted, her voice barely audible. There was a rawness there I'd never heard before, a hesitance that somehow made her feel more real, more human. "Not with you."

I could feel the pulse of my own heartbeat in my chest, steady and slow, but beneath that, something else—a desperate need to close this sudden distance that felt so foreign between us.

"I know it's... complicated," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But I thought..." My voice trailed off. I didn't know how to put it into words—the way I'd felt tonight, the way every touch, every glance from her had set me on fire in ways I didn't fully understand.

She let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Amren, trust me, I know it's complicated. I knew that from the start."

Her words cut through me, but not in the way I expected. There was no anger in her voice, no edge. Just a quiet resignation that made my heart ache.

"But tonight... I felt..." I couldn't finish the sentence. I didn't have the words. She turned back to me, her eyes softening as she searched my face, a trace of something vulnerable lingering there.

"You felt what?" she prompted gently, her hand reaching out to rest on mine where it gripped the steering wheel. Her touch was warm, grounding, but somehow even more intense in its gentleness.

I swallowed, feeling the familiar knot of tension build in my chest. "I felt... like this was real," I whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "Like this wasn't just some... fleeting thing. I felt like you saw me."

Her eyes softened, her fingers tightening around mine. "Amren... I do see you," she said, her voice so quiet I had to strain to hear it. She leaned in, and for a moment, I thought she might kiss me. But instead, she brushed her thumb lightly over the back of my hand, grounding me, anchoring me.

"You make it hard to keep my distance, you know that?" she murmured, her voice taking on that familiar, gentle command, but with an edge of warmth that was new. "I thought I was the one in control here."

I laughed, a little unsteady, my fingers tightening around hers. "You usually are."

A slight smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but it quickly faded, replaced by something more serious, more intense. She leaned back, her hand still resting on mine, and her eyes held mine with that piercing gaze I was slowly becoming addicted to.

"But tonight..." she began, trailing off as she searched my face, as if looking for something that only she could see. "Tonight was... different."

"Different how?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, not trusting myself to break the tension hanging between us.

She paused, glancing down at our hands intertwined, and then looked back up at me. "Different because I saw you, too," she murmured, her voice laced with something that felt achingly close to affection. "I thought I could keep my distance, but tonight... I didn't want to."

The words left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest as her thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of my hand. I didn't move, didn't dare to, afraid that even the slightest shift might shatter this fragile moment.

"Lizzie..." Her name was a whisper on my lips, and she looked up, her gaze softening in a way that felt so foreign but so right.

"Don't say anything," she murmured, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "You'll ruin it."

I let out a breathy laugh, biting back the surge of words I wanted to say. Her hand slipped from mine, but the warmth of her touch lingered, filling the quiet between us with an unspoken understanding.

And as she looked at me, I felt something settle, a quiet promise lingering in the space between us. Something real.