chapter 2

Eliana's POV

"Are you not going to answer that?" Annabelle asked, her eyebrows raised with curiosity.

My phone buzzed against my thigh like an angry wasp. I shoved it deeper into my jeans pocket without looking at the screen. "No. Sorry, but I have to go now. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure," she said, and I hurried toward the curb to flag down a cab.

The taxi ride to my apartment crawled by in twenty agonizing minutes. Every red light felt like an eternity. When I finally climbed the stairs to my door, my phone screen showed six missed calls—all from the same number I had been trying to forget.

I threw my bag onto the couch with more force than necessary and yanked my sweater over my head. The phone rang again. My finger jabbed the decline button so hard I nearly cracked the screen. Two seconds later, it started ringing again.

My hands shook as I navigated to Patrick's contact. Three dots. Block. A small wave of satisfaction washed over me as his name disappeared from my phone.

Months of tears. Sleepless nights. Screaming matches that left my throat raw. I had cried enough over Patrick to fill an ocean, and all I wanted now was silence. Peace. A chance to rebuild myself without his voice in my ear, telling me I was not enough.

Emerald University was supposed to be my escape. I would not let anyone drag me back into that darkness.

After a quick lunch of leftover pasta, I curled up on my bed with the assigned reading. James Joyce's Araby filled the pages with longing and disappointment—a boy chasing after something he could never have. The words blurred together as my mind wandered to Professor Matthews. His blue eyes. The way his voice commanded attention. The silver threading through his dark hair.

I shook my head and focused on the story until my eyelids grew heavy.

The next morning, I arrived at campus thirty minutes early. Dew still clung to the grass, and only a handful of students wandered the pathways. I climbed to the fifth row of the auditorium and settled into my usual seat.

"Hi. I did not get your name yesterday."

I looked up to see Oliver sliding into the seat beside me, that same practiced smile stretching across his face. My stomach clenched.

There was something about him that set my teeth on edge—the way he moved like he owned every room he entered, the assumption that I would welcome his attention. I fixed him with my coldest stare, hoping he would see the warning there.

"That is because I did not tell you," I replied, my voice sharp as broken glass.

His smile never wavered. He either could not read social cues or chose to ignore them completely.

"What do you think of the story Professor Matthews asked us to read?" He scooted his chair closer, and the scent of expensive cologne made my nose wrinkle.

I studied his face for the first time—sharp cheekbones, full lips that had probably charmed plenty of other girls, blond hair styled with mathematical precision. Everything about him screamed privilege and entitlement. Everything about him reminded me of reasons I wanted to stay single.

"The story was fine," I said flatly, digging through my bag to avoid his gaze.

"Eliana!"

My head snapped up at the sound of Annabelle's voice echoing across the auditorium. She looked radiant in a pink crop top and white tennis skirt, her dark hair bouncing as she jogged down the steps.

"Hi, Annabelle," I called back, relief flooding my chest.

"Eliana. Beautiful name," Oliver murmured beside me.

For a moment, I had forgotten he existed. How did he manage to make even compliments sound slimy?

"You two know each other?" Annabelle asked, pointing between us as she approached.

"We just met," Oliver answered while I shook my head so hard my neck cracked.

Students began filing into the auditorium in groups of twos and threes. Then the door opened, and Professor Matthews strode in. My breath caught in my throat. Today he wore a navy sweater that hugged his broad shoulders and brown dress pants that made his legs look impossibly long. If I thought he was attractive yesterday, today he was devastating.

Annabelle dropped into the seat between Oliver and me like a guardian angel. I could have kissed her.

"Good morning, class. How many of you have read the book I recommended yesterday?"

Nearly every hand in the room shot up. Professor Matthews nodded with satisfaction, then let his gaze sweep across the auditorium. When his eyes found mine, they lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

"Let us start with the pretty new girl. What is your opinion of the story?"

Heat blazed across my cheeks as every head turned in my direction. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the podium, waiting. The auditorium fell silent except for the thundering of my pulse in my ears.

"Go on," Annabelle whispered, her elbow nudging my ribs.

I forced myself to stand on trembling legs. "I think the boy was a coward. He should have pursued whatever he felt for his friend's sister, rather than give up the way he did."

Something flickered behind Professor Matthews' eyes—surprise, maybe, or approval. His lips curved into a smile that vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Anyone else willing to share their thoughts?"

Several hands went up around the room. His gaze considered each option before landing on Oliver.

"Mr. Newton."

Oliver rose beside me with obvious pleasure, his chest puffing out like a peacock. "I do not agree with what Eliana said."

Professor Matthews' eyes flicked to me when Oliver spoke my name. My stomach did a small flip.

"Tell us why that is."

"With everything that happened in the story, it was clear that the boy would have been wasting his time if he kept hoping that something would happen between him and the girl. She did not even show any form of interest in him during their brief encounter."

The class continued with other students sharing their interpretations, but I barely heard them. Every few minutes, Professor Matthews' gaze would find mine across the room. The fourth time it happened, he held my stare for so long that warmth spread through my chest like spilled honey.

When he finally dismissed the class, students gathered their books and streamed toward the exits. Professor Matthews remained at the front, organizing his papers with careful precision.

"Eliana."

My name on his lips sent electricity down my spine. Annabelle's eyes widened beside me.

"Can I see you briefly?" he asked.

My mouth went dry. "Uhm, sure. I guess."

"I will be at the Jefferson lounge," Annabelle said with a knowing wink before disappearing through the door.

Professor Matthews stepped closer, close enough that I could see golden flecks in his blue eyes. "That was a very good argument. I have a feeling you would have said more about it if I had allowed you to. Correct me if I am wrong."

"You are not wrong, sir." The words tumbled out faster than I intended. "The girl talking to him out of the blue could be interpreted as a form of interest. Who knows what would have happened if he had actually gotten her the things he promised to get her?"

His face lit up with genuine pleasure. "I must say I agree with you. I like the way you think."

Warmth bloomed in my chest. When was the last time someone had praised my mind instead of my appearance?

"See you in my next class, Eliana," he said, and his smile made my knees forget how to hold my weight.

After he left, I made my way to Jefferson lounge on unsteady legs. But when I arrived, the couches and tables sat empty. No sign of Annabelle anywhere. Without her phone number, I had no way to find her.

The cab ride home passed in a blur of city lights and honking horns. Even after I climbed the stairs to my apartment, even after I changed into pajamas and brushed my teeth, I could not stop thinking about the way Professor Matthews had said my name. The way those blue eyes had held mine like he was trying to solve a puzzle. The way his smile had made me feel like I was the only person in that crowded room.