Chapter 2: Office Hours

The door opened onto a space that felt nothing like a professor’s office should. Too spare. Too intentional. Books stacked neatly instead of scattered. A faint, clean scent, soap, maybe, or something sharper, that didn’t belong to chalk or dust.

Adrian looked up from his desk.

“Yes?” he said, then paused. “Elara.”

Not a question.

She stepped inside, suddenly aware of how close the room felt. Of how little space there was to retreat without it being obvious.

“I just had a question about the reading list,” she said. It came out rehearsed, almost boring.

He leaned back slightly, studying her, not her body, not her face exactly, but the way she held herself. Like he was trying to understand a pattern.

“You can sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

She didn’t.

“I’ll be quick.”

Something like amusement flickered across his face.

“Of course.”

She asked her question. He answered it clearly, efficiently. No lingering. No flirtation. Nothing she could point to later and call inappropriate.

And yet when she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

“Elara.”

She faced him again.

“Yes?”

He hesitated. Just a fraction. As if deciding whether to speak at all.

“Has anyone ever told you,” he said slowly, “that you look like Demi Moore?"

The room tilted.

She felt it immediately, the instinctive tightening, the warning flare she didn’t yet understand.

“I don’t think so,” she said, too quickly.

He nodded as though accepting something he hadn’t expected to hear. Or as though it didn’t matter.

“Must be one of those things,” he said. “Faces repeat themselves.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “They do.”

Their eyes held. Too long. Long enough to feel intentional.

Then he smiled, small, restrained, like he was closing a door instead of opening one.

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

She left before either of them could say something they’d regret later, but she didn't understand what that could be.

In the hallway, her heart was racing. Not from fear. From recognition of a feeling she refused to name.

Behind her, Adrian remained seated long after the door shut.

He stared at the empty chair across from him, unsettled by a certainty he couldn’t justify.

Elara stepped out of the office and almost collided with the hallway’s usual chaos; students rushing past, phones buzzing, papers rustling, but she hardly noticed.

Her mind was still tangled in the conversation with Adrian, replaying his words, his look, the way he studied her like she was a problem to solve.

She hurried down the hall, taking a sharp right, and nearly ran into Nyra, who was leaning against the wall with that smirk she reserved for mischief and trouble.

“Hey,” she said, eyebrows raised. “I saw you come out of his office. Everything okay in there?”

Elara paused, caught off guard by the directness.

“Yeah…just the syllabus,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual.

Nyra tilted her head, smirking. “Just the syllabus, huh? That’s all?”

Elara forced a small smile. “I really was just clarifying some readings.”

Nyra didn’t push further, though her grin suggested she wanted to. “Alright, fine. But if anything happened...."

This time, it was Elara's turn to raise her eyebrow at her friend.

"...or if he gave you any trouble..."

"Nyra, come on", Elara started to interrupt her.

"Just text me, okay? I’m just saying, I’ve got your back.”

Elara signed, then nodded, “okay”, she said rolling her eyes.

Her friend cooked very head, concern in her eyes. Elara knew her friend wasn't prying and she knew the support was genuine, so she smiled warmly, genuinely and hugged her friend, “Yes mom. I’ll let you know.”

Laughing, Nyra waved her off. “Good. Just…don’t make me worry, okay? He’s young, sure, but he’s got that whole ‘serious professor’ thing going. I don’t want him messing with my best friend.”

Elara chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Nyra’s eyes lingered a moment, still teasing, before she walked off.

"I'll see you at the quadrangle later," she called.

Elara exhaled as she watched her friend's back before turning to keep walking down the hall. She tried to keep her mind focused on the mundane; on getting to her next class, but couldn’t shake the echo of the office hours.

She kept telling herself it was nothing, just a professor, just a question, just another routine. But her chest wouldn’t settle.

Every step echoed with the memory of his gaze, the way it had paused on her as if measuring something he couldn’t name.

It's probably just because he's so similar to Elias, that’s all, she thought to herself.

But the thought didn’t help. It only made the memory weirder, the tilt of his head, the faint crease in his brow as he considered her words, the tiny, deliberate smile that felt both distant and intimate.

Her hand brushed her notebook absently, gripping it tighter than necessary. She hated how her mind replayed every detail, analyzing, questioning, imagining.

If he's so similar to Elias, why am I feeling like this? She asked herself.

By the time she reached the steps leading out of the hall, the late afternoon sunlight hit her face, but it didn’t warm her. Her thoughts were already tangled in a strange mix of attraction and confusion, curiosity, and unease.

She shook herself lightly, trying to let it go. She had a class to get to, papers to finish, a life to live.

Yet she knew, without fully understanding why, that she would be thinking about Adrian Moore for the rest of the day, and maybe longer.

And somewhere, down the hall, Adrian packed his bag, his eyes no longer lingering on the empty chair where she had been, but his thoughts clouded with her innocent yet sultry gaze.

Not with desire, not yet. Not entirely. But with something that made him suddenly certain that this wasn’t a student, he could easily forget.