TWO

ELIJAH

I was roused from slumber by the ringing six forty five a.m alarm I had set.

My hands reached out to slap the screaming clock quiet after which I just lay there in bed staring at the ceiling boards.

I barely slept these past few days and my eyes were mercilessly burning badly.

It had been way past midnight when I had arrived home in the early hours of the morning.

My day had been spent sitting beside Grey at the hospital because he was immobile.

His leg was in a cast.

And though his face was kind of bruised badly, he kept cracking weak jokes to entertain me and make me stay longer.

I couldn’t leave him alone like that.

Now I had to see myself to school even when I was as tired as a dehydrated camel.

I dragged myself out of bed to do the cumbersome task of brushing my teeth.

My blue jeans were pulled on alongside a plain black shirt after a cold shower.

Cologne and a scent from my bottles of arab perfumes followed next.

My mind went straight back to Michael when I bent to tie my shoelaces.

If that phone hadn’t rung, he would have had me bent over in that dark corridor.

Probably fucked me hard to climax until I forgot my own nomenclature.

I really wished I hadn't taken the call.

Only I had—taken the call that is.

Then I had to walk away with nothing but a phone number and a promise.

Courtesy of Grey who decided to race his bike like a complete idiot on wet roads.

And that opportunity had passed me by, whooshing over my head till now.

There was still a little bit of hope because the both of us had kept in touch.

I opened my phone and texted him.

“Hey. Are you up yet? Did you sleep well?”

I waited for his reply.

We had been texting since we had parted ways at the gay bar three days ago.

Our last messages were the plans for a date that had been made this morning while I was at the hospital taking care of Grey.

We had agreed to have a dinner date either at his place or mine.

Everything would depend on both of our schedules for today, which was Monday.

Not as if we were going to eat anyway.

Except if cock sucking counted.

And I was excited and eager for the date because all my fantasies about him would come true by the time evening fell.

By then I would be free from the burden of taking care of Grey at the hospital because his family were returning from their vacay and would be around to care for him.

I checked my phone again.

No reply from Michael yet.

Nothing.

Not even the three dots.

I shoved the phone in my pockets after a while because I was almost late.

I grabbed my helmet and headed for my bike which was parked in front of the house.

The ride to campus was quiet but it did nothing to help me clear my head.

I parked my bike near the engineering block and made sure to securely lock it.

After that I walked into the lecture hall about ten minutes late for classes.

Instead of the calm I expected to see, the entire hall was louder than normal.

The professor hadn't arrived yet.

The girls were clustered in groups and whispering fast with soft giggles.

Guys leaned over desks with their phones out, showing each other something.

“Did you see him yet?” one girl asked her friend. “They say he’s from the UK."

Her friend squealed a reply.

"He's so hot. And I heard he wrote like three books on advanced dynamics.”

“Trust me he is far hotter than the last one,” another voice added breathlessly.

I wondered who they were gushing over this time as I dropped into my usual seat at the back and pulled out my notebook.

"I'm glad professor Dylan is gone and the UK hottie will take his place."

My ears perked.

Was there a replacement for Dylan? The professor who made my life a misery?

That was undoubtedly some good news though I didn’t care about how hot the supposed new professor was.

I had Michael.

My mind was focused on the screen of my phone with my brows furrowed.

I kept refreshing the messages app because there was still nothing from Michael.

Why hadn't he sent a reply?

The door opened at exactly thirty minutes past eight and the groups scattered.

Everyone went silent so fast as the new professor walked into the hall.

My jaw had never dropped so fast in my life like when I saw who the man everyone had been drooling over was.

He was the man from the gay bar.

The one I had been texting all week.

The same man I had been desperately hoping would fuck me to the moon and back this very evening.

Michael.

It took everything in me to not crash out.

He had the same dark hair which was now styled into a sexy low curly style.

Those broad shoulders of his were hidden under a lavender shirt and black suit.

He looked so edible at this point, oozing sexual appeal in every nook and cranny.

With him was a leather folder and a marker.

The moment he had opened his mouth, the entire room had gone frozen.

Exactly like me when I had seen him at the bar asking me if I always talked a lot.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t look around.

He stepped to the front and simply wrote “Dr. Michael Bollin, Advanced Structural Analysis” on the large white board.

Then he turned around

“Good morning, all of you,” he said.

His voice was deep and smooth, just like I recalled from the bar that night—cold while cutting through the air like a blade.

The girls in the front row sighed as a guy two rows ahead muttered, “Damn.”

I had never seen a man command attention like him without even trying at all.

My blood boiled for him, as it had been doing since the past week.

The girls giggled.

The boys whispered.

Everyone was stunned.

Everyone but me.

I sat there, leaning back in my chair, biting my lip as I watched him like prey.

Michael scanned the room once.

When our eyes met across the room, I saw his jaw tighten as he himself froze.

The smirk playing on my lips disappeared as he glanced away like he didn't know me.

I felt my stomach drop.

How on earth had he just looked away as if I was just another face in the crowd?

My gaze rounded.

I didn't know what I had been expecting.

But, it definitely wasn't that.

I sat frozen with my pen in the air and still waited for him to glance back.

He never did.

And I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me that it was game over between us.

The lecture started.

He explained the new syllabus and they all listened like he was reading scripture.

I didn’t hear half of it because my blood was pounding hard in my ears from rage.

Every time he moved around the only thing I could vividly recall was his hands on my waist and his lips gliding over mine.

Now he acted like none of it happened.

When the class ended, I stayed glued to my seat until the room had emptied.

Then I walked to the front to meet him where was packing up his things.

He glanced at me.

There was no surprise on his face.

He was just calm, too calm.

“Professor,” I said.

“Elijah.”

He nodded once.

“My office hours would be on Tuesdays or Thursdays around 2 to 4 p.m.”

Like I cared about that.

“I need to talk now.”

He sighed.

Then he closed his folder and picked up his black shiny briefcase. “Follow me.”

We walked down the corridor in silence to his office which was rather small.

He shut the door behind us.

I stood by the desk.

“You didn’t reply to my texts.”

He set his bag down.

“Give me your phone.”

I pulled it out of my pocket and simply gave it to him without a thought.

“There,” he said when he handed it back to me. “My number is gone.”

My eyes instantly went wide.

What did he mean by that?

I checked and realised that he had really opened my messages app, found his number, and deleted it from my phone.

En fait, he had deleted the whole thread before he had handed me the phone.

The room started to spin before my eyes.

"From now henceforth," he started in an icy voice, “you are my student and I am your lecturer. We can not be anything more."

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re not serious.”

“Very.”

“We almost—” I stopped.

My throat felt tight.

“You kissed me like you wanted to eat me alive. Now you want me to pretend that we do not know each other?”

“I know exactly who you are.”

His voice was too nonchalant.

It aggravated me.

“That’s why this stops here. I don’t mix personal life with work. Ever.”

I laughed once.

It was a short and bitter sound.

I stepped closer.

“You could have just said no to dinner if you didn't want it Michael. You don't have to throw me under like I’m nothing.”

He met my eyes.

“It's Mr Bollin, and I am setting a boundary, not throwing you under. Respect it.”

My chest burned.

I wanted to shout.

I wanted to kiss him again just to see if he would push me away or pull me closer.

But I didn’t move.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “Message received.”

I turned and walked to the door.

“Elijah.”

I stopped but didn’t look back.

“Focus on the course,” he said. “You’re a smart student. Don’t waste it.”

I opened the door and left.

Imagine my shock when he had said that?

But, it was nothing compared to the cold treatment he gave me after.

He avoided me like the plague, as if we weren't seconds from having sex in that stupid corridor three days ago.

The rest of the day dragged on.

I rode home much later with my helmet on tight so no one could see my face.

The first thing I did was drop onto the couch after I climbed the stairs to my flat.

Grey texted asking how school had gone today but I didn’t reply to him.

Too angry at him to do so.

I stared at the wall and thought about the dinner I had planned with Michael.

The way I pictured him in my bed.

All of it was gone now.

One stupid call.

One stupid accident.

And now the man I wanted more than anything saw me as nothing but a student he had to ignore.

I closed my eyes and tried not to feel the fast growing ache in my chest.

Yet it didn’t work.