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Chapter Sixteen
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2025-11-20 02:14:44
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Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Thirty
He arrived early.Earlier than usual, earlier than reasonable—early enough that the hallways still echoed with the emptiness of morning, the lights not fully warmed, the building smelling faintly of cold stone and old books.He told himself he needed time to prepare the lecture.He knew why he was really here.He unlocked his office, stepped inside, and sat at the desk without turning on the lamp. The room felt expectant, like it had been waiting for something—for someone—to disturb its stillness.He tried to read.He tried to breathe.Neither worked.And then—A soft knock.Barely a tap.Like she wasn’t sure she should touch the door at all.He didn’t need to check.His body knew before his mind caught up.“Come in,” he said, voice low, steady only in theory.The door opened.Eeden stepped inside quietly, closing it behind her with the same gentleness she used when closing books she didn’t want to hurt. She wore a simple sweater and jeans, hair loose and slightly windswept, breath vi
Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Twentynine
Adrian had never been more aware of the weight of a building in his life.He stood just inside the entrance of the philosophy department, suitcase still in hand, the winter light slanting through the tall windows like a cold, watchful gaze.He shouldn’t be here yet.He should’ve gone home.Dropped off his luggage.Showered.Slept.Pretended he wasn’t walking into this place with his pulse already bruising his throat.But he’d gone straight from the airport to campus. Some part of him—tight, hungry, uncontrollable—refused to go anywhere else first.The hall smelled the same.Old paper.Coffee.Rain clinging to coats and students and the soles of shoes.His breath went thin.He hadn’t even seen her yet, and already his body felt too warm under his clothes, nerves too aware, senses tuned like an instrument drawn too tight.He set his suitcase down beside his office door and unlocked it with hands that didn’t feel steady.The room greeted him like a confession he wasn’t ready to make.The
Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Twentyeight
The night before he flew home, Adrian didn’t even pretend to work.The conference was technically still going—panels he should attend, dinners he should make an appearance at, conversations he should be part of—but he’d slipped away early with the easy excuse of “jet lag” and “early flight.”No one argued.Everyone understood fatigue.No one knew what kind he meant.Back in the flat, he dropped his keys on the table and stood in the doorway for a long moment, just listening to the radiator tick and the muted city noise beyond the glass.He felt… wrong.Not sick.Not tired.Not restless exactly.Just misaligned, like his body was here but some essential part of him was still in a rain-wet office thousands of miles away.He hung his coat over the back of the chair. The armchair in the corner caught his eye.For one unguarded heartbeat, he saw her there again—knees parted, hand between her thighs, eyes locked on his as she whispered come for me—He shut his eyes, jaw tightening.Not now.
Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Twentyseven
Prague was supposed to distract him.That was the lie he kept repeating as he walked through the narrow streets the next afternoon, collar turned up against the cold wind sweeping off the river. His conference badge hung uselessly from his coat pocket—he’d slipped out early, claiming fatigue, even though the truth was simpler:He couldn’t focus.Every hallway looked like it might contain a glimpse of her.Every stray laugh, every shadow, every passing perfume note made something inside him twist.Distance wasn’t diluting her.It was sharpening her into something he couldn’t escape.He crossed a small stone bridge near the Old Town, boots scuffing the damp cobblestone. Tourists moved around him in slow clusters, cameras raised, chatter rising like a soft mist.He forced himself to look outward.At the river.At the swans.At the tiny boats drifting beneath the arches.He needed grounding, not memory.But memory arrived anyway.Her sitting in the front row, twirling her pen, watching hi
Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Twentysix
Prague didn’t care that he was unraveling.The next day passed in a blur of polite conversations, academic posturing, and forced composure. Adrian nodded through lectures he couldn’t absorb, pretended to take notes he never intended to reread, and accepted compliments from colleagues who saw only the professional veneer he’d spent years perfecting.None of them could see the exhaustion threaded beneath his skin.None of them knew he’d woken with the remnants of a dream he couldn’t fully banish.None of them would have believed how badly he wanted to check his email every twenty minutes.He didn’t.He didn’t dare.When the last conference event ended, he walked through the cold Prague evening with his hands in his coat pockets, collar turned up against the wind. The city was beautiful in the way old cities always were—cobblestone slick with recent rain, street lamps giving everything a soft amber glow, foreign voices rising and falling around him like a language he only half understood
Unprofessional - I shouldn't want my own student Chapter Twentyfive
In the dream, there was no plane.No conference.No distance.He was in his office.Of course he was. The lamp on his desk glowed warm. Rain streaked down the window in slow, steady trails, blurring the world outside into an impressionist smear.He knew it was a dream in the way dreams sometimes announced themselves: the air too thick, the silence too loud, the edges of objects too sharp and too soft at the same time.He was standing behind his desk when the door opened without a knock.Eden stepped inside.Not soaked, not shivering. Just… there. Calm. Certain. Wearing the simple black dress he’d never actually seen her in but had imagined once, shamefully, half-awake in the dark.It clung to her waist, skimmed mid-thigh, left her collarbones bare. Her hair was slightly damp, like she’d rushed here through the rain anyway.“Professor,” she said softly.His pulse kicked.“Eden,” he answered before he could correct himself.No Miss Marlowe. No syllabus. No rules.Her lips curved, slow a
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