The lecture hall hummed with the usual buzz of pre-class chatter as students shuffled into their seats. Estelle Brooks sat toward the middle, her foot nervously tapping against the floor as she skimmed through her notes for the mock trial. Today’s class would focus on public speaking, and Professor Celeste Thorne had made it clear that every student would be presenting a short, impromptu argument in front of the class.
Estelle swallowed hard. It wasn’t that she wasn’t prepared—she always came prepared—but something about speaking in front of Celeste, with her cold, unflinching eyes bearing down, made Estelle’s nerves run wild.
“You’re overthinking this, Estelle,” Mia’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as she plopped down beside her. “Just go up there, smile, make your point, and get out of there.”
Estelle shot her a look. “Easy for you to say. Thorne doesn’t have it out for you.”
“She doesn’t have it out for you either. Maybe she just… likes messing with you. Some people show affection in weird ways, you know?”
“Yeah, by publicly humiliating me in class? Great love language,” Estelle muttered, though a tiny part of her wondered if Mia was right. No, it was absurd to think Celeste Thorne felt anything other than professional disdain. Estelle was just another student who annoyed her with too much chatter and not enough perfection.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp, familiar click of heels. The room immediately fell silent as Professor Celeste Thorne entered. Dressed in her usual perfectly tailored suit, her posture rigid and imposing, Celeste walked to the front of the room without sparing a glance at anyone. It was like she carried a cold wind with her, chilling the atmosphere with each step.
“Good afternoon, class,” Celeste began, her voice smooth but with that familiar edge that sent shivers down Estelle’s spine. “Today, we will continue preparing for the upcoming trial by focusing on something many of you still struggle with—speaking under pressure.”
Her eyes flickered across the room, barely pausing as they passed Estelle, but it was enough to make Estelle’s stomach twist in knots. Celeste picked up a stack of papers from her desk.
“Each of you will come to the front and argue the point written on the paper I hand you. You will have two minutes to form your argument, and you will speak in front of the class. Your ability to improvise under pressure is just as important as your written work in law.”
She glanced up, her cold gaze sweeping over the students like a judge ready to sentence them. “Failure to perform will be met with… constructive feedback.”
Estelle’s pulse quickened. Great. Constructive feedback, she thought. Also known as public evisceration.
Celeste started calling students up one by one, each receiving a topic from her pile. Some managed to stutter through their points without too much embarrassment, but the tension in the room was palpable. Celeste gave each student her trademark cool assessment, her eyes narrowing slightly when someone faltered or rambled. No one escaped her scrutiny.
And then, of course, it was Estelle’s turn.
“Miss Brooks,” Celeste said, her voice like a razor as she called her name. Estelle felt the eyes of her classmates on her as she stood, her legs feeling heavier than usual as she made her way to the front.
When she reached Celeste’s desk, the professor handed her a slip of paper. The briefest flicker of something passed between them—a spark of challenge? Interest? Or was it just Estelle’s imagination?
She read the topic: Defend the use of extreme measures in interrogation to extract information from criminals. Estelle swallowed hard. Not an easy subject.
“You have two minutes to prepare,” Celeste said, her voice flat. She returned to her seat, her cold eyes fixed on Estelle as she stood at the podium.
The pressure was on. Estelle’s mind raced as she scribbled a few quick notes on the paper. She needed to find a way to make her argument compelling, to show she could think on her feet. But no matter how she framed it, this was a difficult topic to defend, and the weight of Celeste’s gaze wasn’t helping.
Finally, her time was up.
Estelle stood tall and began speaking, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the room. Her argument started strong—she cited legal precedents, referenced recent cases, and even managed to keep her voice steady. But then, in the middle of her speech, she stumbled over a word. Her mind blanked for a second, and she hesitated.
There was a beat of silence—just long enough for everyone to feel the tension hanging in the air.
Celeste’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Not yet.
Estelle cleared her throat, trying to recover. “As I was saying,” she continued, “extreme measures, while controversial, can sometimes be necessary when—”
“Necessary?” Celeste interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a knife. “Please, Miss Brooks, elaborate. What exactly do you mean by ‘necessary’?”
Estelle’s heart raced. This was bad. She knew what was coming. “I—I mean, in certain cases, when there’s a clear and immediate threat, more forceful measures can—”
Celeste raised an eyebrow, her expression icy. “You’re defending violating human rights under the vague justification of a ‘clear and immediate threat’?”
Estelle’s face heated, but she tried to stand her ground. “Well, in some cases, the ends might justify the means—”
“The ends justify the means?” Celeste repeated, her voice low but carrying the weight of authority. “Do you really believe that? Is that your legal argument, Miss Brooks? To throw ethics and the rule of law out the window when it suits your agenda?”
A few students shifted in their seats, sensing Estelle’s discomfort. Mia, watching from the back, had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide, but even she couldn’t come to Estelle’s rescue now.
Estelle could feel herself floundering. She opened her mouth, desperate to save her argument, but no words came out. The room felt stifling, her mind a blur of panic. Celeste, however, remained as calm and cold as ever, watching her struggle with an almost clinical detachment.
“I—uh—well, not exactly, but…” Estelle stammered, heat rushing to her face. She could feel the embarrassment clawing at her, the stares of her classmates burning into her. Celeste tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line that might have been a smirk if she were capable of such expressions.
“You’ve had two minutes to prepare, Miss Brooks, and this is the best you can offer?” Celeste’s voice was dangerously soft, but her words struck like a hammer. “Perhaps you should reconsider your stance on this matter before you make such bold claims in front of a courtroom.”
Estelle’s face was burning now. She wanted to melt into the floor, disappear entirely. She could barely manage a word. “I—”
Celeste stood, her posture still rigid and graceful. “Class dismissed,” she said, turning her back on Estelle and gathering her papers without another glance in her direction. “Miss Brooks, stay after.”
Mia’s eyes widened as she mouthed, Good luck from the back row. Estelle could only swallow nervously, her throat tightening.
Once the students had filed out, Estelle found herself alone with Celeste in the now eerily quiet lecture hall. Her heart pounded as she watched the professor move about the room with deliberate slowness, stacking papers, straightening the desk. Finally, Celeste turned toward her.
“That was… disappointing,” Celeste said, her voice icy. “You’re capable of far better, Miss Brooks. But instead, you chose to embarrass yourself.”
Estelle clenched her jaw, fighting back the humiliation. “I—I know I could’ve done better,” she admitted. “I just… I got flustered.”
Celeste walked closer, her eyes never leaving Estelle’s, the intensity of her gaze nearly unbearable. “Flustered?” she repeated, her tone sharp. “You let emotions distract you. That won’t fly in a courtroom.”
Estelle bit her lip, standing her ground. “I’m aware, Professor. It won’t happen again.”
Celeste’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. She took another step closer, her presence almost suffocating. Estelle’s breath hitched, her heart pounding harder than before.
“I expect you to rise to the challenge, Miss Brooks,” Celeste said softly, her voice now dangerously close. “Don’t disappoint me again.”
There it was again—the strange charge that crackled between them whenever they were alone. Estelle could feel it in the air, thick and palpable. She met Celeste’s gaze, something shifting inside her, her embarrassment giving way to something bolder.
“I won’t,” Estelle said, her voice quieter, more confident. “But next time… try not to enjoy it so much when I mess up.”
A flicker of surprise flashed across Celeste’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She straightened, her cold mask snapping back into place. “Get out of here, Miss Brooks,” she said, her tone clipped, but there was a hint of something else in her voice—something that made Estelle’s stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with nerves.
With a final glance, Estelle turned on her heel and left, her heart still racing. Whatever had just happened between
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