Back at the university, everything felt different now. The familiar hum of the lecture hall, the sight of other students hurriedly taking notes, the rustling of papers—it all seemed distant, like a faint echo of a life that was no longer entirely hers. Because every time Estelle sat in one of Celeste Thorne’s lectures, she couldn’t shake the weight of what was happening between them.
It wasn’t just that Celeste was her professor anymore. She was her boss. Her mentor. And, if Estelle was being honest with herself, her biggest source of confusion.
Sitting in the front row, Estelle found it impossible to focus. She could see Celeste moving across the front of the room, poised and in control as she delivered another compelling lecture on corporate law. The students around her were rapt with attention, scribbling notes, but all Estelle could think about was the subtle shift in their dynamic since she’d started working at Celeste’s law firm.
It was strange—surreal, even—to see Celeste in this setting, wearing the same professional mask she’d always worn in class, as if nothing had changed. But for Estelle, everything had changed. She saw Celeste nearly every day now—both at the firm and in the classroom—and it was starting to drive her mad.
At the law firm, Celeste was focused, commanding, and sometimes unnervingly flirty. The lingering touches, the teasing comments that danced just on the edge of professional—it all played havoc with Estelle’s mind. She couldn’t escape it.
Here, in class, Celeste wasn’t so different. Estelle could feel Celeste’s eyes on her, could sense the subtle shifts in Celeste’s gaze as it lingered on her just a fraction longer than it did on the other students. And whenever they made eye contact, there was that same teasing glint in Celeste’s eyes, like she was daring Estelle to react.
It was maddening.
Estelle shifted in her seat, trying to push the thoughts away and focus on the lecture. But every time she looked up, all she could think about were those moments—the moments. Like the way Celeste had pulled her close in the elevator just yesterday, adjusting her top with a possessiveness that had left Estelle breathless. Or the time Celeste had leaned in too close while explaining a case, her breath warm against Estelle’s ear, leaving her flustered and barely able to concentrate.
The touches—those maddening, barely-there touches—haunted her. A hand brushing against hers when they passed papers. Celeste’s fingers grazing her arm when she leaned in to make a point. The almost casual way Celeste would rest her hand on Estelle’s lower back when they walked through the office.
None of it was overtly inappropriate, but it was there. Always there. And it was driving Estelle crazy.
She tried to focus on the lecture, scribbling a few notes, but the words blurred in front of her. All she could hear was Celeste’s voice, smooth and steady, punctuating the classroom with her usual authority. But now, every word felt charged with something else—something only Estelle could sense.
Was Celeste doing this on purpose? Did she know how much this was affecting her? Estelle wasn’t sure. All she knew was that it was getting harder and harder to pretend everything was normal.
Celeste turned toward the class, her gaze sweeping over the students before settling, predictably, on Estelle. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Estelle felt her pulse quicken. Celeste’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile—so subtle that no one else would notice, but Estelle saw it. She always saw it.
The tension in the air thickened, and Estelle quickly looked back down at her notebook, her heart racing. She could still feel the weight of Celeste’s gaze on her, even as she tried to focus on the page in front of her.
This is insane, she thought to herself, gripping her pen a little tighter. I’m losing my mind.
She couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep bouncing between two worlds, where one version of Celeste was her untouchable professor and the other was the dangerously flirty woman who seemed to enjoy testing Estelle’s limits. The lines were blurring too much, and Estelle didn’t know how to navigate it.
By the time the lecture ended, Estelle felt drained. She packed up her things quickly, trying to avoid Celeste’s gaze, but as she stood up to leave, she caught sight of her professor out of the corner of her eye. Celeste was watching her, that same teasing smile playing on her lips.
“Miss Brooks,” Celeste called, her voice smooth and controlled. “A moment?”
Estelle’s heart sank. She had been hoping to escape, to get some distance from the tension that seemed to coil tighter around her every time they were in the same room. But there was no escaping Celeste.
She turned slowly, walking back toward the front of the room where Celeste stood, her arms crossed casually but with that same air of authority that always made Estelle feel off-balance.
“Yes, Professor?” Estelle asked, trying to keep her voice steady, though she could feel her pulse quickening again.
Celeste’s eyes flicked over her for a moment before she smiled, that same infuriating, knowing smile. “I just wanted to remind you,” she said softly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “that we have a meeting later. Don’t be late.”
Estelle swallowed hard, nodding. “I won’t be.”
“Good,” Celeste replied, her smile widening just a fraction. “I wouldn’t want you to disappoint me.”
The way she said it—the way she always said it—sent a shiver down Estelle’s spine. There was something more to Celeste’s words, something that always seemed to hover just beneath the surface. And it made it impossible for Estelle to forget, even for a moment, the dangerous game they were playing.
As she turned to leave, her mind spun with everything she couldn’t say, the tension pulling at her in two directions—between the desire to push Celeste away and the undeniable pull that kept bringing her back.
This is going to drive me insane, Estelle thought as she walked out of the lecture hall, her mind already dreading the meeting that awaited her later.
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