When desires Win

River’s POV

My phone buzzing woke me up.

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head, hoping it would stop, but it didn’t.

I reached for my phone with one hand, my eyes half-closed. The screen was too bright, but I forced myself to read the message.

Daniel Wellington: Be in my office by 11. Don't be late.

Of course.

Of course he had to start my day like this.

I dropped the phone on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I felt heavy, like someone had tied bricks to my chest.

Perfect. Another day of pretending.

I rolled out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom, the image I was of me in front of the mirror was surprising.

My hair was a mess, and my eyes were puffy, like I hadn’t slept in days.

Maybe because I hadn’t.

I took a fast shower, pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and left my hair the way it was.

I didn’t care how I looked.

Not today.

When I checked the clock again, it was already 10:30.

If I walked fast, I could make it.

TheBy the time I reached the building, it was already 11:06.

I knocked once on his door and pushed it open.

Daniel was sitting behind his desk, typing something.

He looked up when he saw me, and his face hardened.

"You’re late," he said, his voice sharp.

I dropped into the chair across from him, arms folded tight across my chest.

My sweatshirt sleeves swallowed my hands, and I kept my eyes glued to the floor between us.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment. Just watched me with that quiet, heavy stare that made my skin itch.

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest like he was trying to build a wall between us.

"We need to be clear about something," he said, his voice calm but cold. "Whatever happened between us, it stays in the past. Here, you’re my student. I’m your professor. We owe each other respect."

The word respect sounded like a slap.

I kept my eyes on the floor.

I didn’t trust myself to speak without breaking.

I didn’t want him to hear how much it hurt.

"Okay," I said.

It came out flat, dead.

I saw his jaw tighten out of the corner of my eye, but he didn’t say anything else.

He turned back to his laptop like I was already forgotten.

I stood up slowly, my legs feeling shaky, and left without another word.

The day crawled by, slow like the world was against me, not just the world but the universe too. I couldn't concentrate on what course or whatever the professors were saying.

My mind kept drifting back to him.

To the way he hadn’t even flinched when he said it.

Like it was easy.

Like cutting me out was just another line on his to-do list.

Like the kiss never happened.

By four, I was standing next to him again in the parking lot. He leaned against a black car, checking his watch like I was already late again.

He didn’t say anything, just opened the door and waited for me to get in. I climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

The drive was painful.

The radio played some soft song, but it didn’t cover the thick silence between us.

I stared out the window the whole time.

I didn’t want to see his face.

I didn’t want to see if he was struggling or if he was fine.

When we pulled up to the conference center, I opened the door and got out fast.

The building was so tall that it stretched at the top and was completely made of glass. The sight alone got me mesmerized. It was the kind that the only type of people allowed were all suits and polished smiles, the kind of people who shook hands too hard and laughed too loud.

Daniel walked ahead of me like he couldn’t even feel me behind him.

He introduced me to a few people who I later realized were doctors, gallery associates and business tycoons— older men and women, all polished and smiling fake smiles.

"This is River Stormhill," Daniel said, his hand brushing lightly against my back. "He’s my son’s best friend. And a student of mine."

I smiled when I was supposed to.

I shook hands when I had to

.

I laughed at stupid jokes about "young blood" and "bright futures."

But inside, something twisted.

Son’s best friend.

Student.

Never something more.

Never someone he cared about.

I followed him around like a shadow for the rest of the conference, nodding when I was supposed to, but feeling smaller every second. On the drive back, the silence was even worse.

Daniel drove with one hand on the wheel, his eyes on the road, like I wasn’t even there.

I stared out the window again, clenching my hands in my lap so tight my fingers hurt.

After a while, he sighed.

"Are you going to tell me why you’re sulking?"

I didn’t answer.

He tried again.

"River."

His voice was softer this time, but it still made me want to scream. I kept looking out the window.

Maybe if I stayed quiet, he’d drop it.

He didn’t.

"Talk to me," he said, his voice low.

I snapped.

"You don’t get it," I said, my voice shaking. "You never did."

I turned to face him fully, anger boiling under my skin.

"You treat me like a kid you have to babysit," I said. "You tell everyone I’m your son’s friend. Your student. Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t mean anything."

Daniel’s jaw clenched.

"You are my student," he said tightly. "You’re young—"

"I’m not a kid!" I shouted.

He pulled over without warning, the car jerking to a stop on the side of the road. He threw it into park and turned toward me.

"You’re acting like one," he said, his voice calm but sharp like a knife.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them back.

"You kissed me," I said, my voice breaking. "You kissed me, Mr. Wellington. You made me think—"

"I made a mistake," he said, cutting me off.

It felt like he slapped me.

I turned toward the window, breathing hard, my chest aching. I wiped my face roughly, angry at myself for almost crying.

He reached out suddenly, his fingers under my chin, making me look at him.

And then he kissed me.

Hard.

Rough.

Like he needed it as much as I did.

I gasped against him, my hands grabbing onto his shirt like I was drowning and he was the only thing keeping me afloat.

He kissed me like he hated himself for it.

Like he hated me for making it this hard.

I kissed him back because it hurt too much not to.

But then he pulled away.

His forehead rested against mine for a second, both of us breathing hard.

Then he sat back, started the car again, and pulled onto the road without saying a word.

I pressed my head against the window and closed my eyes.

Neither of us said anything the rest of the way. When we pulled up in front of my apartment, he handed me a slip of paper.

"Summarize the conference," he said, his voice flat. "Bring it over tomorrow."

I looked down at the paper.

An address.

His address.

I nodded, my throat too tight to say anything.

Then I got out and slammed the door behind me.

When I pushed open the door to the apartment, I heard it.

Laughter.

Not mine.

Not Ethan’s.

I followed the sound to the bedroom and stopped.

Ethan was in bed with another guy. Their shirts were off, Their hands were everywhere.

For a second, I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Ethan looked up and swore under his breath.

"River," he said, like I was the one who did something wrong.

"You’re cheating on me," I said quietly.

Ethan pushed away from the guy, running a hand through his hair.

"River, don’t make this into something it’s not," he said. "We’ve been over for months. You just didn’t want to admit it."

My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"You could’ve said something," I whispered.

"What would’ve been the point?" he snapped. "You’re not here. You’re not with me. You’re thinking about something or someone else every damn second.”

I turned and walked out of the house. He was right though, I got together with Ethan just so I could get over my stupid crush on Daniel but over the few months we've been together, I wasn't attracted to him not even in the slightest way.

My fingers crumpled the paper in my pocket, the one with his address.

And somehow, my feet found their way there.

I stood in front of his door, heart pounding so hard it hurt.

I knocked once.

The door opened.

Daniel stood there, looking confused and tired.

"River—"

I didn’t let him finish.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

Hungry.

He hesitated for half a second.

And then he kissed me back.

His arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the floor, pressing me against him like he couldn’t get close enough.

Clothes hit the floor.

Whispers filled the space between kisses.

And when he carried me to his bed and laid me down, I didn’t resist.

I didn’t think.

I just held onto him.