Chapter 5: A Stupid Grade

Elara sat through the last class of the morning without her usual attentiveness, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the essay score from the night before. Eighty out of one hundred. A solid B. Not bad, she told herself.

But not the ninety she had been aiming for, not the mark she had worked for. Every reference checked, every argument original, every point carefully constructed, and still. Eighty.

When the class ended and the room emptied almost immediately as students gathered their bags and moved toward the doors, Elara lingered. She watched Adrian pack his papers, his movements precise, deliberate, and she waited, heart thrumming, for the moment she’d been rehearsing in her mind since receiving her grade.

“Professor Moore?” she asked, her voice slightly tight, almost betraying her nerves.

He glanced up, a faint smile brushing his lips. “Yes, Elara. Everything okay?”

She shifted, biting her lip. “I… I was just wondering about my essay. I got an eighty, and I… I don’t understand why. I did all the research, followed your instructions, and tried to make it original. I just… I thought maybe I missed something.”

He looked at her, tilting his head slightly, then gestured for her to step closer. “Alright. Let’s break it down.”

He began explaining, point by point. “Your thesis statement was solid, but it could have been more precise. The supporting evidence was strong, yes, but there were a few areas where your analysis didn’t fully connect to your argument. And your conclusion, well, it reiterated your points, but it didn’t tie them together in a way that added weight.”

Elara frowned, trying to absorb it, nodding along, scribbling notes mentally. She felt frustration simmering, but she kept it measured. “So you’re saying it was mostly structure?” she asked.

“Mostly,” he confirmed, tapping the paper lightly. “You did excellent research, your sources were strong, but the essay’s clarity and cohesion cost you ten points.”

She exhaled. It made sense, and yet part of her still bristled. “I just… I worked really hard on this,” she said, almost defensively. “I was aiming for ninety. Is there something specific I could have done differently?”

He leaned back slightly, considering. “Honestly, restructuring the body paragraphs to flow more logically, emphasizing your argument’s progression rather than each individual point, that alone could have pushed it up. Small adjustments.”

Before she could respond further, the classroom door opened, and another professor entered, checking the room schedule. “Sorry, this room is booked,” he said politely. “I need this space now.”

Adrian glanced at Elara, his brow lifting slightly. “We’ll have to continue this in my office.”

She nodded, and they walked briskly down the hall together, the echo of their footsteps and the faint click of her bag strap against her shoulder marking the tension.

Once inside his office, the conversation picked up again. He was professional, analytical, and methodical, but the air had grown heavy. There was something unspoken lingering between them. an awareness of each other that neither addressed directly, but both felt.

Elara tried to focus solely on the conversation, but the memories of the previous night, the odd internal flare of desire, fluttered at the edges of her mind. Her hands gripped her notebook a little too tightly, and she caught herself staring at his gestures more than his explanations. His precise way of handling the papers, the casual tilt of his wrist, the subtle motion of his fingers, everything seemed magnified.

Adrian noticed her distraction. “Elara?” he asked softly, concern edging his voice.

She flinched, scrambling. “I’m… I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. She tried to shove the fluttering thoughts down, focusing on structure, thesis, cohesion. Anything to regain control.

But the spell broke abruptly when her own anxiety flared too high. “I- I need to go,” she blurted, standing too quickly, gathering her things in a clumsy rush. She grabbed her bag and bolted from the office.

By the time Adrian gathered himself, she was gone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before picking up the headphones she had left behind.

Later, he made his way to the quadrangle, hoping to catch her, but she was nowhere in sight. Nyra spotted him first, lounging under a tree with a book. Adrian handed her the headphones. “Elara left these in my office,” he said simply.

Nyra accepted them, suspicious but quiet. “Thank you sir,” she said, folding them into her bag. As she watched him walk away, her phone buzzed. She looked down and saw a message from Elara: ‘In the library. Come.”

Nyra slipped into the quiet hall, her feet landing silently on the polished floor She found her friend tucked into a corner with stacks of books. “Here,” she said, handing Elara the headphones. “You forgot these.”

Elara took them, fingers brushing Nyra’s briefly. She hesitated, then sighed. “I… went to talk to him about the essay. I worked really hard, and I… I just wanted to understand why I didn’t get the grade I was expecting.”

Nyra raised an eyebrow, studying her. “I didn't ask, but okay… that makes sense.”

Elara forced a smile. “It is. Really. That’s all.”

Nyra didn’t push. She could see it, though, the tension that hung over her friend, the way she seemed on edge, like a coil ready to snap. She said nothing, watching Elara tuck the headphones into her bag, still slightly unsettled.

Elara sank further into the chair, breathing slowly. The essay had been discussed and clarified. Yet, the pull of him, the uncomfortable magnetism, lingered, twisting through her chest. Something had begun between them that neither could name, and she realized, reluctantly, that it wasn’t going away. And now her friend was getting suspicious, but she didn't know how to explain what she was feeling.

The library's filtered light made the motes of dust swirling in the air look like tiny, lazy stars. Elara focused on them as they landed on her book, using the sight to anchor her drifting thoughts. Nyra sat opposite her, pretending to read, but Elara could feel the weight of her friend's gaze, a silent interrogation.

"You're staring," Elara said, not looking up from the book she'd opened but wasn't reading. The pages were a blur of black text.

"Am I?" Nyra's voice was light, but it had an edge. "Just wondering what has you looking like you've seen a ghost. A very attractive, professor-shaped ghost."

Elara's head snapped up. "It's not like that. We talked about transitional phrases and thesis clarity. It was the most academic, un-sexy conversation in the history of the world."

"Right." Nyra leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Because academic conversations usually make people bolt from rooms like the building's on fire. And forget things. Like headphones they're surgically attached to."

Elara’s defenses crumbled a fraction. She looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I was just… embarrassed," she lied. "About the grade. About making a fuss over a few points. It felt childish in hindsight."

Elara held her breath, expecting a comeback, but Nyra stayed quiet for a long time, so long that Elara thought she may have decided to let it go. She raised her chin to look at her friend sitting across her and saw Nyra’s eyes boring into her.

"I didn’t know we've started lying to each other, Elara," Nyra said, her voice dripping with a kind of sadness Elara hadn't expected.

The direct hit landed hard. A wave of shame washed over Elara, hot and swift. She wasn't supposed to lie to Nyra. They didn't do that.

"I'm not lying," Elara whispered, but even to her own ears, the words sounded flimsy, hollow. She was withholding. That was its own form of dishonesty.

The memory of last night; the phantom heat, the intrusive, undeniable want for her professor, was a secret she couldn't share. It felt wrong, disloyal to the memory of her parents, and deeply embarrassing. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself?

"I'm just... overwhelmed with classes. And this essay... it just pushed me over the edge. That's all."

Nyra watched her for another long, silent moment. The air between them, usually so easy and full of shared understanding, was taut with unspoken questions. Finally, Nyra sighed and leaned back in her chair, the slight creak of the wood punctuating the quiet.

"Okay," she said, the word a quiet concession. "But this isn't over."

Elara nodded, a wave of relief so potent it almost made her dizzy. "I know. I just need some time to... think".

Nyra nodded and smiled at her friend. Reaching across the table, she grabbed Elara’s hand and squeezed it, “Whatever it is, Ellie, you know I won't judge you”, she said firmly, and Elara nodded enthusiastically.

“I know, thank you, Nyra. I promise I'll explain everything, I just need a little time, that's all”, Elara said, grabbing their called hands with her free hand. Her throat tightened at the thought of pushing her friend out, but she was thankful Nyra understood.

Right there, Elara promised herself to understand exactly what was going on with her, and Adrian, if anything at all, and fix it quick, before it ruined anything.