Mentor's Program.

River’s POV

I knew it the moment I walked into class.

His eyes were on me again.

I could feel them, like a lion stalking his prey. I kept my eyes glued to my notebook, pretending not to notice.

Pretending not to care.

Over the past week, I had avoided him like my life depended on it. Sitting at the far end of the classroom, slipping out as soon as the lectures ended, skipping the optional office hours he somehow kept holding for "extra credit." It was exhausting, pretending Daniel Wellington wasn’t even there, but it was the only way I knew how to survive.

It was supposed to get easier.

It didn’t.

Today, it got worse.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Greene announced, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she came forward from the line of professors that entered the class. "The department has assigned each of you a mentor for the semester. You’ll be working closely with them for your final project."

She started calling names, pairing students off with faculty professors. I wasn’t even listening, too busy doodling aimless circles in my book.

Until I heard it.

"River Stormhill. You’ll be with Dr. Wellington."

My head snapped up so fast I almost broke my neck.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I glanced at him, just for a second, and of course he was already looking at me, lips tugging into something between a smirk and a grimace.

Like he knew exactly how much this would kill me.

I sank lower into my seat, biting down the scream threatening to come out from my throat.

Of all the professors. In all the university.

Why him?

When class ended, he didn’t even give me a chance to escape. He was already standing by the door, like a bouncer at a club I didn’t want to enter.

"River," he said, voice low, too casual. "Walk with me."

I didn’t move at first, gripping the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles went white.

But people were staring. Whispers were already starting. I had no choice.

I followed him.

We walked down the hallway in silence, the space between us crackling with things we couldn’t say. Every step felt like dragging chains behind me.

Heavy.

Reluctant.

He led me to a small study room, glass walls and all, where everyone could see but not hear. He dropped into a chair across from me, pulling out a binder. Like this was just business.

"I’ll expect weekly check-ins," he said, flipping through the pages. "Progress reports. Drafts."

His voice was cool. Detached. Like that kiss didn’t exist. Like I hadn’t tasted regret and longing on his tongue just days ago.

I nodded slowly, the words sticking in my throat.

This was hell on earth q.

Sitting across from him, acting like we were just teacher and student. Like I wasn’t falling apart inside.

I could do this.

I had to.

Except I couldn’t even look at him without remembering the way he said my name like it hurt to say it. The way he touched me like he needed me to breathe.

I needed air.

I needed out.

After the meeting, I bolted. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just walked, fast and aimless, until the sun dipped low and the streetlights flickered on.

‘Hey you coming to the Lucas party?’

The message popped up on my phone from Noah, making me abandon the Spotify playlist I wanted to play to reply him.

‘i could use a drink or two, Where's it happening’

He replied back with the address, I didn't know Lucas but Noah knew him and I know Noah so that's not technically crashing into someone's party but simply honoring an invitation from someone I know…right?

The music was loud when I got to the house. People spilled out onto the sidewalk, laughing and smoking and clinging to each other like their life depends on them also not to mention the sexual tension everywhere.

It was messy and loud and bright and wild.

It was everything I wasn’t.

But tonight?

Tonight, I didn’t care.

I slipped inside.

Bodies pressed close, sweaty and electric. Glitter sparkle under the neon lights. Someone shoved a drink into my hand. I didn’t even ask what it was. I drank it.

Fast.

I felt a sharp burn in my throat as the drink found it's way down.

Another drink appeared.

And another.

I lost track of how many.

I just wanted to forget.

Forget Daniel.

Forget his mouth.

Forget the way my heart still beats for someone who broke it without even trying.

Some guy tried to dance with me. I let him. Another one whispered something filthy in my ear. I laughed, loud and reckless, because for the first time in days, I didn’t feel anything.

Or maybe I felt too much.

I didn’t know anymore.

I was about two seconds away from making a very bad decision when I felt hands on my waist. Strong. Familiar.

"River," a voice said, low and pissed.

I blinked up.

It was Ethan.

My boyfriend.

Or whatever he was now. We hadn’t exactly been solid lately, not with me disappearing into my own head every time he touched me.

He didn’t say anything else. Just grabbed my hand and dragged me out of there, brushing past through the crowd like he was rescuing me from a burning building.

I let him.

The night air was cool and sobering, but not enough.

My head spins.

The drive back to our apartment was a blur. Him snapping at me to put on my seatbelt. Me laughing at nothing. The stereo playing whatever Kendrick Lamar song. He has always been a fan.

When we got inside, I didn’t even wait.

I reached for him.

Pushed him against the wall, fingers fumbling at his shirt, mouth clumsy and desperate.

I needed to feel something real.

I needed him to make me forget.

But he froze.

His hands closed around my wrists, stopping me gently.

"River," he said, his voice low and distant. "What are you doing?"

"I want you," I said, trying to kiss him again.

He pulled back, holding my arms up to restrict them from touching him. His eyes searched mine, confused and hurt.

"This isn't you," he said quietly. “If Noah hadn't texted me to come get you, you'd have hooked up with a stranger and probably regretted it. But this isn't you riv”

I laughed, bitter and broken.

Maybe it wasn’t.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe this was who I had become — a mess in someone else's arms, trying to erase the memory of a man I could never have.

Ethan didn’t push me or yell. He just helped me to the couch, grabbed a blanket, and tucked it around me like I was some fragile thing that might shatter if he breathed too hard.

I closed my eyes.

But even drunk and half-asleep, all I could see was Daniel.

All I could feel was Daniel.

And deep down, in the quiet, broken part of me, I hated myself for it.

I hated how even now, even after everything, he was still the only one I wanted.