My Professor's Secret

19|

nineteen
two weeks later

I cling to my comforter despite the fact that my alarm has already gone off more times than I can count, each one a reminder that I should have been out of bed by now. The wind cuts sharper outside today, rattling faintly against the window, and the slush coating the ground only seems to amplify the cold pressing its way into the room. With Christmas creeping closer and the snow refusing to let up, the thought of riding my bike to work feels more unbearable than it ever has before.

I hate it.

Enough that I convinced Kevin to give me all of last week off, using the excuse of needing to find a more reliable way to get back and forth.

What he doesn't know—what no one knows, aside from Professor Thornton and me—is that I've been avoiding Trevor entirely.

I haven't seen him in two weeks.

Part of that is timing. Most of it isn't.

I stopped going to his classes, asking Terrance and a guy named Sydney from my other lecture with him to grab notes and assignments for me instead. It isn't sustainable—I know that. Attendance matters too much this close to midterms—but avoiding him has been easier than dealing with whatever's waiting on the other side of that room.

Still, I can't keep doing it.

I let out a slow breath and pull the comforter tighter around myself one last time before forcing it back. The cold hits immediately, raising goosebumps along my skin as I sit up. The room feels quiet without Taylor here, her side already empty, her bed made in a way that proves she's been gone longer than I realized.

There's no more putting this off.

The shower is quick, more functional than anything else, and by the time I make it back down the hall and into my room, dressed and halfway presentable, my phone buzzes against the edge of my desk.

A text from Sawyer lights up the screen.

Josh told me you ride a bike to work? WHY? I'll be there in fifteen.
And Alex, get rid of the bike 😒

I stare at it for a second, something close to a laugh catching in my chest before I can stop it.

Sawyer shows up in ten.

Thankfully, I've already used the time to finish getting ready, my uniform sitting right, my hair pulled into a half-up, half-down style that looks like I put more effort into it than I actually did. By the time I get downstairs, he's already leaning against his car like he's been there longer than he has, keys spinning loosely between his fingers.

The drive starts easy.

We talk about Christmas first—plans, expectations, the usual things that come up this time of year—before he shifts into something else entirely, launching into how he and Josh decided to move in together. The way he says it makes it sound impulsive, but there's something steadier underneath it, something that tells me this wasn't as sudden as he wants it to seem.

I don't judge.

Not when impulse has never really been a stranger to me.

Not when I kissed my professor.

The thought sends a quiet cringe through me, cutting through whatever lightness had settled in the car just moments before, and I turn my attention back out the window, watching the blur of snow and pavement pass by without really seeing it.

Still, despite how fast everything between them seems to be moving, there's no denying that Sawyer and Josh are better like this. Together. Happier in a way that wasn't there before.