chapter 4

Eliana's POV

I kicked off my shoes at the apartment door and padded to my bedroom, Professor Matthews' paper clutched in my hand. Settling cross-legged on my bed, I smoothed out the pages and began to read.

His words flowed across the page like silk. Each paragraph built on the last with mathematical precision, his arguments layered and complex. The way he dissected symbolism in Victorian literature made my pulse quicken—not just from attraction, but from genuine intellectual excitement. Margins filled with elegant handwriting revealed a mind that thought in layers, questioned everything, saw connections others missed.

By the time I finished, my bedside clock read 11:47 PM. The paper slipped from my fingers as exhaustion pulled me under.

The next morning, I clutched the paper to my chest as I approached the podium after class ended. Professor Matthews looked up from organizing his notes, and something flickered in his blue eyes when he saw what I carried.

"I can take that now if—" I began.

"Actually, bring it to my office later," he interrupted smoothly. "We can discuss it properly there."

Heat crept up my neck at the way he said "properly."

"What is with you and Professor Matthews?" Annabelle asked as we walked toward Jefferson lounge twenty minutes later.

The lounge buzzed with afternoon energy. Students hunched over laptops, textbooks spread across every available surface. We squeezed into a corner table just as a couple at the next table began an aggressive make-out session, completely oblivious to their audience.

Annabelle watched them with barely concealed amusement, wrapping both hands around her oversized coffee mug like a lifeline. Steam curled between her fingers. "I swear I have coffee running through my veins instead of blood," she had confessed to me yesterday. "Without caffeine, I am basically a zombie."

"There is nothing going on between us," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"Are you sure? You two seem to have a lot of private conversations." She tilted the mug to drain the last drops, the ceramic scraping against the table when she set it down.

"He is just giving me extra assignments. That is all." Even as I said it, I knew how weak it sounded. "What can you tell me about him?"

Mischief sparkled in her green eyes. "Aside from the fact that he is ridiculously attractive? Honestly, not much. He keeps to himself. Very professional. Almost boring, really."

My heart disagreed completely, but I kept that opinion to myself.

"Do not tell me he has caught your interest," she said, leaning forward with obvious delight.

"Of course not." I forced a laugh that came out too bright, too quick. "That would be completely inappropriate."

Annabelle's knowing look told me she saw right through my denial. She shrugged and returned her attention to the couple, who had finally come up for air and sat staring at each other with dazed expressions.

"I notice Oliver has been pursuing you pretty aggressively," she remarked.

My stomach soured at the mention of his name. "Yeah."

"You do not like him?" The question carried an undertone I could not identify.

"Are you asking for a reason?" I studied her face carefully.

"What? No." She waved her hand dismissively. "I was just curious. Honestly, I am not a fan. He acts like he is God's gift to women, but he is really just another entitled rich boy."

"I think that applies to most of the guys I have met at Emerald University so far."

Except Professor Matthews, of course.

An hour later, I gathered my bag and stood. "I need to go see Professor Matthews now. I will catch up with you later."

I squeezed her shoulder gently, and she smiled up at me. The kissing couple had finally separated and sat blinking at each other like they were waking from a dream.

As I approached the lounge exit, the door swung open and Oliver appeared, wearing that same practiced smile that made my skin crawl.

"Eliana," he called out.

I turned my head away and pushed past him through the doorway. My feet moved faster as I put distance between us, but when I glanced back, he stood framed in the doorway, watching me with an intensity that made my shoulders tense.

I scoffed under my breath and picked up my pace.

Professor Matthews' office was exactly seven minutes away—I had timed it yesterday. When I arrived, his door stood ajar, warm light spilling into the hallway.

"Good afternoon," I said, stepping inside. I pulled the paper from my bag and leaned forward to place it on his desk, sliding it across the polished wood surface.

"Hello, Eliana." His fingers closed around the pages, and he opened the same drawer from yesterday, tucking the paper inside like it was precious. "What did you think?"

"I read through it and I am honestly surprised you want my opinion. What you wrote is extraordinary. I do not think I could ever produce work that sophisticated."

His arms crossed over his chest, muscles shifting beneath the fabric of his shirt. "You really think so? Come on, have a seat."

"I am sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be," I said, taking a step backward toward the door.

His expression fell like a curtain dropping. The disappointment in his eyes made guilt twist in my stomach, as if I had kicked a puppy.

"Just for a few minutes?" He rose from his chair and moved around the desk toward me. "I find myself looking forward to our conversations more and more."

Suddenly he was close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his blue eyes. Close enough that his cologne filled my lungs—something woodsy and expensive that made me want to lean closer instead of backing away. He wore a brown button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with dark hair. The top two buttons hung open, offering a glimpse of his chest that made my mouth go dry.

He reached behind me and pulled out the chair, his arm brushing my shoulder as he moved. My defenses crumbled like sand castles at high tide. I sank into the seat before my knees could betray me completely.

Instead of returning to his desk, he settled on its edge directly in front of me and used his feet to pull my chair closer. The wheels rolled across the floor until my knees nearly touched his legs.

"I cannot remember the last time I had a student as perceptive and engaging as you are," he said, his voice low and warm. The compliment felt genuine, not like empty flattery.

"Thank you, sir." The words came out barely above a whisper. With him this close, thinking became impossible. My body hummed with awareness of every breath he took, every small movement he made.

I should leave. I should stand up and walk out of this office before something happened that I could not take back. But my legs felt like they were made of water.

"What is your favorite romance story?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

How could he look so completely at ease while my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird?

"Romance is not really my thing, so I have none." Each word required enormous effort to form and speak.

His eyebrows rose. "Why not? I would think a beautiful young woman like you would be drawn to stories about love. Unless someone broke your heart?"

"Something like that."

"I see." He stood and moved with deliberate slowness until he stood behind my chair. His presence loomed over me, his scent surrounding me like a cocoon. The air in the room felt thick, charged with electricity.

Panic shot through my system like ice water. I had to escape before I did something foolish—before I turned around and looked up at him with all my want written across my face.

I bolted from the chair and rushed toward the door, my bag clutched against my chest like armor. Behind me, I heard his sharp intake of surprise, but I did not slow down. I yanked the door open, fled into the hallway, and slammed it shut behind me.

My legs carried me to the end of the corridor before they gave out. I pressed my back against the cool wall, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My hands shook as I pushed hair out of my face.

What was happening to me? Why did being near him make me feel like I was coming apart at the seams?