My Professor's Secret

29|

twenty-nine

After leaving Sawyer's at daybreak, I head straight home. Turns out packing a bag leaves room to forget things. For one, it was seven thirty in the morning and I was already anticipating the fact that Taylor and I were still on the outs.

Once I've finally made it to our room and discovered she had already managed to leave before I could make it back, the stiffness in my shoulders releases its grip. But the quiet doesn't feel as relieving as it should. It feels exposed, as if someone is watching me without my knowledge, even though the room is empty.

My eyes drift without meaning to—desk, dresser, the corners of the ceiling, the vent above Taylor's bed. Everything looks the same. Exactly the same.

Rachel had been in here before. I knew that. We both did. That's why the locks were changed in the first place. But that didn't mean she hadn't done something before that. Something we wouldn't notice at first glance. How else could she know so much about things Taylor and I hadn't told anyone else?

The thought buries itself deeper than I want it to, and I hate how quickly it makes sense. Rachel didn't need access now if she already had what she needed.

I force myself to move before I spiral any further, grabbing what I need and pushing the thought aside like it isn't already sitting too close to the surface. For a moment I even contemplate picking up my phone to text Taylor, thumb hovering over her name, but I decide against it because nothing has changed about my response.

It takes no time to prepare myself in my Hinkhouse uniform before trudging to work through the icy winter air. The cold should've been enough to pull me out of my head but it isn't. Halfway down the block, I glance over my shoulder. No one. Still, the feeling doesn't leave.

I tell myself I'm being irrational—that I'm letting everything from last night bleed into things it doesn't belong in—but it doesn't stop me from checking again at the next corner, adjusting my pace without thinking about it, like I'm trying to stay ahead of something I can't see.

With holiday break over, campus was back to its usual liveliness—which I enjoyed—but it also meant another busy day at Hinkhouse. The place was packed for breakfast when I arrived, voices overlapping, dishes clattering, the normal chaos already in motion. Kevin didn't waste a second on greetings before practically shoving me toward the kitchen.

Even that feels like a relief. Noise. Movement. People. Something real.

Even though I slipped in as quietly as possible, it still took a conscious effort to steady my breathing. Seeing Professor Thornton with everything going on in my personal life—and whatever was left unresolved between us—sat heavy in my chest. If Kevin weren't as intense as everyone said he was, I wouldn't have shown up at all. I would've stayed in my dorm and avoided all of it.

Professor Thornton isn't in the kitchen. He isn't in the lounge either as I shrug off my coat and hang it up. I glance once more, scanning the space like I'm expecting something to be off.

It isn't.

A small sense of relief follows, enough for me to push everything into the back of my mind for now. As expected, the breakfast rush never slows. Orders pile up, voices blur together, and the rhythm of the kitchen takes over.

By lunch, it's clear the day will keep me occupied, which helps more than I want to admit. He never shows. I catch myself wondering why—whether it's a coincidence or avoidance—but I don't let the thought sit.

After my shift ended, I had a few spare minutes to walk over to my brother before my next class began, so I headed across campus. I catch myself scanning faces without meaning to, lingering half a second too long on people I don't recognize before forcing my attention forward again. By the time I reach his building, I'm already tired of my own thoughts.