006

Elena Carson

It’s been three days since Professor Davenport asked me to drop his class and I told him no.

Three days of successfully avoiding him. Or maybe he’s been avoiding me. Either way, I haven’t seen him since that awkward confrontation in his office. But I hear his name everywhere I turn on campus.

And it’s driving me insane.

Apparently, within just a few days of him being at Ravenscroft, every girl on campus has either seen or heard about the “New Hot Broody Professor.” It’s like someone dropped a spark in a pile of dry leaves. Now the whole place is on fire with gossip.

As I sit in the cafeteria, poking at my barely touched salad, two girls at the table opposite me are giggling over their phones, scrolling through something with way too much excitement.

“Oh my God, look at this one,” one of them whispers. “He’s so hot. Like… unfairly hot.”

“I voted for him again. He’s at 87% now. This is insane.”

I grip my fork tighter. It’s just a phase, I tell myself. They’ll get over it soon. But even as I think it, I know I’m lying. Killian has always had that effect on people. Quiet, distant, untouchable, and somehow that makes everyone want him more.

I have his class in less than thirty minutes and the thought makes my stomach twist. What’s it going to be like walking in there after I basically told him no? Will he be cold? Professional? Or worse, will he ignore me completely?

I hate that I even care.

One of the girls giggles louder. “Professor Davenport just went up to 92%! Poor Professor Langsford is still stuck at 31%.”

I roll my eyes. My Media Arts professor is actually nice and decent-looking, but apparently “nice” doesn’t win polls. You have to have the face of a model and the body of a Greek God.

“You’re not voting?” a sickly sweet voice asks from behind me.

I look up. Of course. Gwendolyn Myers.

She stands there with her perfect hair and model smile. Gwendolyn and I have been competing since freshman year. GPA, presentations, student awards. If there was a ranking, she wanted to beat me in it.

And because her modeling gigs are with VogueVest—the same fashion company Killian’s mother runs and where my mom works—we somehow always end up in each other’s orbit.

“I’ve been busy with assignments,” I say flatly.

Gwendolyn’s smile sharpens. “Or you don’t find Professor Davenport attractive?”

I don’t answer. She doesn’t need more ammunition.

She leans in slightly. “Even if you did, you don’t stand a chance. I mean… despite being best friends with his sister and your mom working for his mom for years, he doesn’t even see you, Elena.” She shrugs, all fake sympathy. “He’s never going to be interested in you, Elena. So I guess I beat you at this one before it even started.”

Her words land like little needles, making a chill haze run down my spine. I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around my fork.

“I don’t care, Gwen.”

“The little lies we tell ourselves to get through the day,” she says sweetly before she starts walking away. “See you in class.”

I sit there for a moment, staring at my tray. I tell myself I don’t care. I don’t want Killian to be interested in me. That would only complicate everything. But the irritation doesn't go away, mixing with the anxiety already churning in my stomach.

My phone buzzes.

[Nora: SOS!!! Meet me in my car. NOW.]

Capital letters. That’s never good.

I’m tempted to ignore it and just go to class like a normal person, but deep down I know I’m not ready to face Killian yet. Gwendolyn’s words even made it worse. So I grab my bag and head toward the parking lot instead.

Nora is already in the driver’s seat when I slide in.

“Are you okay?” I ask quickly.

“Put on your seatbelt.”

I blink. “Where are we going?”

She starts the car and pulls out of the lot with way too much speed. “We’re sneaking into Killian’s penthouse.”

I stare at her. “Hold up… what?”

“We’re just going to check if he has a secret girlfriend or not.”

I’m so confused I can barely form words. “Nora… explain.”

She sighs dramatically. “I was talking to some girls earlier — of course the conversation was about Killian — and they kept saying someone like him must be in a relationship. I told them he isn’t. Then Gwendolyn had the nerve to ask how I would know. Like I don’t know my own brother!” She grips the steering wheel tighter. “I hate when people act like they know him better than me just because they vote on stupid polls and call him ‘Professor Davenport’ in those fake voices.”

Oh, God!

I rub my temples. “And we’re sneaking into his place because…?”

“To prove the bitches wrong,” she says matter-of-factly. “I know my brother. If he had a girlfriend, I would know.”

“I can’t believe you let Gwendolyn get in your head, Nora.” I say, gripping the edge of my seat. “Plus, you can just ask him.”

“Where’s the fun in that? I want to find out for myself.”

I shake my head. “I’m not doing this with you. Stop the car.”

“Too late. You know about the plan now.” She grins. “Besides, he’s too busy teaching. We won’t get caught.”

I sink lower in my seat, anxiety and guilt twisting together. Part of me worries Killian will think I skipped his class because I gave up. Another part hopes he doesn’t even notice I’m missing.

We pull up at his building. A sleek residential tower with the penthouse on the top floor. Nora practically drags me out of the car. “You owe me, remember?”

I follow her reluctantly through the lobby and into the elevator. My heart is already racing.

“This is a terrible idea,” I mutter as we ride up.

Nora just shrugs. “Relax. I have a key card. He gave it to me last time in case of emergencies. So technically, we’re not even sneaking in. We’re just… visiting.”

The elevator doors open on the top floor. The hallway is quiet and luxurious. Nora uses the key card and the door to the penthouse clicks open.

The place is huge. Minimalist. Immaculately clean. It smells faintly like him, that same cedarwood and bergamot scent that wrapped around me in his car. But it doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like a hotel suite someone is temporarily staying in.

“Let’s check the bedroom first,” Nora whispers, already heading down the hall.

I hesitate in the living room, too nervous to invade his space. But Nora waves me over, and I reluctantly follow.

The bedroom is massive. The bed is perfectly made, not a wrinkle in sight. Nora starts opening drawers while I stand awkwardly by the closet.

“You’re not helping,” she complains.

I sigh and open the closet door. Just clothes. Neatly hung. Some files on a shelf. Nothing personal. Nothing that suggests he even has feelings, let alone a girlfriend.

Then we hear it.

The sound of the front door unlocking.

Footsteps.

Shit. Someone is here.

Nora’s eyes go wide. “Hide!”

She drops to the floor and slides under the bed. I panic, looking around wildly before darting into the walk-in closet. I pull the door almost shut behind me, heart slamming against my ribs.

Killian’s clothes surround me. His scent is everywhere, strong. I press my back against the wall, trying to breathe quietly. My whole body tenses up and I desperately hope it’s from fear and not from the overwhelming scent of him.

Footsteps enter the bedroom.

My pulse is so loud I’m scared he’ll hear it. The steps move toward the bed… then pause.

Then they turn. They come straight toward the closet. The handle moves.

The door opens.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Silence.

I slowly open them.

Killian is standing right there, staring directly at me. His grey eyes darken the moment they lock onto mine.