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Chapter 47: Pick me up
publish date:
2026-07-27 00:07:58
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My professor, my stalker Chapter 48: Worthy
“This convention,” I say, mostly to distract myself from the chaos still lingering in my chest. “Do you know any people there?” I keep my eyes forward, deliberately ignoring how close he is. The warmth of the car. The subtle scent of something dark and clean that clings to him—and now, to the space around us. It’s too easy to notice. Too easy to focus on. And somehow, despite everything, despite the tension and the fear and the things he says that make my pulse spike—I feel… safe. Enough to lean back into the seat. Enough to let my shoulders drop just slightly. “You could say that,” he replies evenly. He glances at me, his expression unreadable. “My father is the organiser. I’ve been around these people since I was young.” I raise an eyebrow, turning my head slightly toward him. “Is there any place where your family doesn’t have influence?” He shrugs. “My family did a lot of… groundwork before taking over. Over time, they accumulated power. But they don’t flaunt it. Most people d
My professor, my stalker Chapter 47: Pick me up
I don't know what to wear. My suitcase sits by the door, packed and ready, like it has more certainty about tonight than I do. Everything I need is inside, neatly folded, practical, safe. The dress doesn’t belong in there. I almost left it behind. I actually stood in front of my closet for far too long, scanning through my own dresses, trying to convince myself that one of them would be enough. Something simple. Something normal. Mine. But nothing felt right. Not after what he said. So I packed it anyway. Apparently, I can’t show up in my basic black dress. I glance down at myself again, frustration bubbling under my skin. What to wear now, though? Leggings and a t-shirt are out of the question—Sam would never let me live that down. Sweatpants are even worse. Jeans on a late-night flight sound like a nightmare. I let out a breath and smooth my hands over the fabric I finally choose: a dress. It’s comfortable, soft enough to sleep in if I want to, and just professional enough to p
My professor, my stalker Chapter 46: Police
“But she’s obviously being followed,” Sam tries again, his patience hanging by a thread. The police officer yawns. Actually yawns. Right in front of us. Something inside me shrinks. I bite my finger nails. A habit I lost years ago, but this entire situation has my anxiety rising. The room smells faintly of stale coffee and something disinfectant. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, too bright, too harsh, making everything feel surreal. Like this isn’t happening. Like I’m watching it from somewhere outside my own body. “Is there any concrete proof?” the officer asks, finally looking at me. My throat tightens. I’ve barely spoken since we got here. I let Sam take over, let him explain, push, argue—because he’s better at it. Because I thought someone would listen to him. “Ehm…” My voice comes out small. Useless. “There was a tracker on my car, but… I threw it away.” His eyebrow lifts slowly. “You threw the tracker away?” he repeats. “Why?” “It was raining and…” My fingers curl ti
My professor, my stalker Chapter 45: Alone
Sam’s voice cuts through the room, laced with concern that feels just a little too deliberate. “Will the girls be safe? Around so many drunk men?” I almost roll my eyes. I know exactly what he's doing. Mr. Madden looks at him like he also knows exactly what Sam is doing. There’s a beat of silence. Heavy. Measured. “Of course,” Mr. Madden says at last, his tone smooth, controlled. “Everyone falls under my protection.” His eyes flick briefly toward me, then back to Sam. “But the girls will be looked after. No one will touch them.” Something shifts in the air when he says it. It isn’t reassurance—it’s a warning. A quiet, lethal promise wrapped in civility. The kind that doesn’t need to be raised to be heard. My skin prickles. Nick glances over his shoulder at Delilah, quick but not quick enough. I catch the flicker of something unspoken between them—concern, maybe guilt. Delilah’s shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly before she forces herself to relax, her fingers tightening ar
My professor, my stalker Chapter 44: Class
“But, Sir, we haven’t even finished the assignment,” Julian argues, his voice cutting through the room with a sharp, desperate edge. “We still need to do our conclusion. Arguably the most important part.” The classroom feels different today. Tighter. Charged. Like something invisible has wrapped itself around all of us and pulled just a little too hard. Mr. Madden sits behind his desk, posture relaxed. He looks at Julian like he’s mildly inconvenienced, like this interruption barely deserves his attention. I sit in the back again, between Sam and Tessa, my body angled toward my laptop even though the screen is still blank. I can feel it—the tension from the others. The jealousy. The quiet resentment simmering in every glance thrown our way. Everyone who didn’t get selected is upset. Very upset. I haven't looked at him. Not once. I felt his eyes the second I walked in. It was immediate, unmistakable—like a touch I couldn’t see but could feel dragging slowly over my skin. It made
My professor, my stalker Chapter 43: The email
I pour myself a glass of wine and let the deep red swirl against the crystal, watching it catch the warm kitchen light as the food simmers behind me. The house smells rich of food. No tension. No expectations. Just music and heat and the quiet satisfaction of doing something right. Finally. I set out extra glasses on the table, one by one, aligning them without thinking, then drift into the rhythm spilling from the speakers. My hips sway lazily, bare feet sliding across the floor, my body loosening with every beat. It’s rare, this version of me—unguarded, light. Almost careless. My phone buzzes against the counter, sharp and insistent. I barely glance at it at first, reaching for it with distracted fingers, still moving to the music, still half-wrapped in the warmth of the moment. Then I see the sender. My body stills so abruptly it feels unnatural, like something inside me has snapped tight. Mr. Madden. What the fuck? The music fades into nothing. The smell of food, the wine
My professor, my stalker Chapter 7: He's watching
He clicks on a button of his laptop and the grading rubric appears on the board.“You’ll start with the case summary,” Mr. Madden says. “The victims, the location and time frames of the murders, key characteristics of the offender’s behavior, and the known details about the social and economic envi
My professor, my stalker Chapter 6: Class
He’s talking to Nick when we enter the classroom.Several students are already seated, but nobody seems interested in their books. Every pair of eyes is fixed on the front of the room, where our new hot teacher stands behind his desk with his arms crossed.Mr. Madden.He doesn’t look up when we wal
My professor, my stalker Chapter 5: Attention
Tessa sighs, like this whole drama is the worst inconvenience in the world. “Fine. Dead. Buried. He doesn’t exist. He probably has a small dick anyway.”Delilah narrows her eyes at us, her gaze landing squarely on Sam. “That includes you.”Sam raises his hands in surrender. “The man is dead to me,”
My professor, my stalker Chapter 4: Him
“I heard they hired some new teachers,” Delilah says as she opens her locker and tosses her books inside. “They did,” Tessa replies immediately. She leans back against the row of lockers with a knowing look. “And not just any teachers. I heard the new criminology professor is… a real treat for the
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