Lessons In Butterflies ｡ ｡ ｡ (StudentxTeacher Romance)

Chapter 53: You Moan When You're Startled....

Shella's POV:

I woke up to the sound of boots crunching in snow and the low murmur of voices outside the tent.

For a moment, I just lay there, blinking up at the canvas roof, my body wrapped tightly in my sleeping bag. My glasses were somewhere beside me, probably folded inside the hoodie I'd worn to bed. His hoodie.

I turned my head and inhaled, the scent still clinging to the fabric—warmth and pine and something just... him.

My chest ached.

Nothing technically happened last night. We hadn't crossed the line. But we got close—close enough that I could still feel the ghost of his breath on my skin, the heat of his hands as they hovered at my waist. I'd practically begged him not to stop. And he... he hadn't wanted to. I know that now.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was like standing on the edge of something massive—some cliff I could fall off at any second—and I didn't know if I was supposed to jump, or turn around and walk away. And maybe he didn't know either.

With a soft sigh, I sat up and pulled the hoodie tighter around me, his sleeves far too long for my arms. I found my glasses and slipped them on, the world sharpening back into focus. My cheeks were still pink from the cold—or maybe the memory.

I pushed open the flap of the tent and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Dani and Juliet were already up by the fire pit, their cheeks flushed, their hair messy with sleep.

"Finally," Dani said, holding up a cup of something warm. "You slept in."

"Couldn't sleep," I muttered, brushing snow off my shoulders.

Juliet raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Thank God. My thoughts were messy enough without having to explain why I couldn't sleep.

I let my gaze scan the camp, stomach flipping slightly when I caught sight of him.

Elias.

He stood by the gear pile, handing out rolled maps and making sure everyone had enough water and gloves. He looked good—way too good for someone who barely slept. His hood was up, but his face was still visible, a hint of stubble on his jawline catching the morning light.

He didn't look at me.

Not once.

I hugged his hoodie closer around myself, suddenly unsure if I should still be wearing it.

A weird tightness twisted in my chest. Did he regret it? Did he think I was stupid for sneaking into his tent?

Maybe I was.

But then his eyes flicked toward me—just for a second—and even from across the camp, I felt it. The weight of that glance. The way he looked at me like he remembered every second of last night.

And just as quickly, he looked away again.

I didn't know what that meant.

But I knew how I felt.

And I hated that even in the freezing cold, my whole body warmed just from one stupid look.

______

The snow had started falling again.

Not in thick, angry gusts, but soft flakes drifting down like someone had shaken powdered sugar from the sky. The world was quieter up here—white and wide and endless. I could hear the crunch of boots, the shuffle of backpacks, and the occasional burst of laughter from the girls somewhere ahead. My glasses kept fogging up from my breath.