Semua Bab My Off-limits Professor... But He's Mine (MM Romance): Bab 51 - Bab 60

RYDER'S POV The rain comes down in sheets, a relentless, hammering gray curtain that turns the world into a blur of streetlights and wet asphalt. Ryder stands on the sidewalk in front of Adrian’s apartment complex, water dripping from the end of his nose and soaking through the collar of his jacket. He checks his phone again. The screen glows harshly in the darkness: 10:14 PM. Adrian had told him to be here at nine. Over an hour has bled away in the downpour, and there hasn’t been a single text, no call, nothing but the ringing tone that drones endlessly in his ear before cutting to voicemail. Ryder shoves the phone back into his pocket, his jaw tight. The worry sitting in his chest is a cold, heavy stone. He’s called five times now. No answer. His mind spins through possibilities—an accident on the road, something happening at at his office, maybe he got the time wrong despite the clear text message. The isolation of it grates on him. He considers getting back on his bike and

ADRIAN'S POV The heavy thud of the final suitcase landing in the trunk echoes through the parking garage, a stark punctuation mark to the silence stretching between them. Adrian stares at the closed lid of the car, his fingers gripping the cold metal edge until the knuckles turn white. The reality of the situation sits heavy in his gut, a dense, twisting knot that makes it hard to draw a full breath. He wipes a sheen of sweat from his forehead, the humidity of the afternoon clinging to his skin like a second layer. Beside him, Drake moves with an easy, fluid grace, slamming the trunk shut with a casual confidence that makes Adrian’s chest tighten. Adrian slides into the driver’s seat, the leather creaking under his weight, and Drake hurriedly scrambles into the passenger side. The air inside the car is cool, conditioned, but it does nothing to lower the temperature rising in Adrian’s cheeks. As Adrian merges into traffic, one hand draped lazily over the steering wheel, the othe

RYDER'S POV Maya bounces up to Ryder, her bright smile lighting up her face with a calculated, practiced radiance. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down with a sudden, jarring force, and plants a kiss squarely on his lips. Her mouth is soft, tasting of artificial strawberry gloss, but the contact feels invasive, like a violation of the air he breathes. Ryder doesn’t push her away. He stands there, his body rigid, a statue trapped in a moment he despises, and kisses her back. It’s a mechanical motion, lips moving without passion, his eyes still locked on Adrian over Maya’s shoulder. Adrian stands frozen a few yards away. The shock hits him like a physical blow to the solar plexus, stunning him silent, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He watches for a second longer, his heart shattering in his chest with a soundless, violent crack. He sees the way Ryder’s hands hover at Maya’s waist, not pulling her close but not letting go either. The image burns into Adrian’s

ADRIAN'S POV The dining table hums with the clinking of silverware against fine china, a rhythmic underscore to the polite conversation flowing. Mr. Knight sits at the head of the table, carving a roast with precise, practiced movements, while Mrs. Knight leans forward, her eyes bright with curiosity as she leads the discussion. Drake sits beside Adrian, his posture relaxed and open, radiating a charm that fills the room. Across the table, Ryder sits in shadow, barely touching his food. His attention is fixed entirely on Adrian. Adrian keeps his eyes on his plate, cutting his meat into smaller and smaller pieces, though he has no intention of eating them. Every time he cautiously lifts his gaze, he finds Ryder already watching him. The eye contact is intense, a physical weight that presses against Adrian’s chest, making it harder to breathe. Ryder doesn't blink, doesn't look away, his dark eyes stripping away the layers of Adrian’s composure. "So, Drake," Mrs. Knight says, br

ADRIAN'S POV The leather of the steering wheel feels slick and cold under Adrian’s palms, his knuckles white as he grips it tight enough to strain the tendons in his wrists. The silence inside the car is thick, suffocating, heavier than the humid air pressing against the windows. He glances at the clock on the dashboard, then at the road ahead, which is rapidly losing its streetlights and giving way to dense, shadowed tree lines. "Just tell me where this place is again," Adrian says, his voice tight, clipped. He taps the brake as a deer darts across the road, the red taillights flaring in the darkness. "Your mother said you needed those hypoallergenic pillows from the store downtown. We’ve been driving for twenty minutes, Ryder. We should have hit the city limits ten minutes ago." Ryder sits in the passenger seat, legs sprawled out, looking entirely too relaxed for someone whose mother is supposedly waiting on bedding supplies. He turns his head, the passing streetlights casti