mething. Meanwhile, the air between us is strong, thick with everything we haven't said. I take another slow step forward. He doesn't move or stop me, when I'm close enough that I can feel the wa

r locked behind me, my breathing ragged. I lean against it, pressing my palms to the wood, terrified as I can still feel the dampness between my thighs, and his weird stare. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut. 'What the hell is wrong with me?' I asked myself as I didn't just fantasize about him. I lost myself in it. So much so that I forgot Perhaps he saw this and knew where I was. I drop onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Maybe if I stay here long enough, I can erase this from existence or maybe I'll just die of embarrassment. The next morning, I think about skipping, yet I don't because that would make it obvious, the last thing I need is for Professor Cross to think he got to me. Even if he did, I'll not let him see me that way. So I show up, head held high, pretending nothing happened. However, It doesn't work. Because the moment I step inside, our eyes meet and just like that, everything comes rushing back. The fantasy, the feeling of his grip on my wrist, and the heat in my stomach. In a rush, I tear my gaze away, forcing myself into my seat, yet I can feel him watching me like he's waiting for me to crack. I bite my lip, open my notebook, and tell myself one thing: 'I will not think about him, I will not-' "Miss Monroe." My thoughts were cut short. 'Shit.' I look up to find him standing at the front of the class, gaze steady. "See me after." Saying that, a ripple of murmurs spreads through the room, at the same time, someone nudges my shoulder, whispering, "What did you do?" I shrug, If only they knew, I swallow hard and nod as there's no escaping now. Shortly after, the door clicks shut behind the last student, I stay seated, my heart hammering in my ribs. Professor Cross doesn't say anything at first, he just leans back against the desk, arms folded while watching me intently. I grip my pen, forcing m