(Lila's POV)
I tossed around in bed Sunday night, thinking about the essay I just completed. I had finished writing it days ago, but somehow, I found myself making various changes each time. I wanted the damn essay to be perfect.
I got up from my bed and sat at my desk. I opened my notebook and laptop, going through what I had written. A line caught my attention: Desire isn't always loud; sometimes it's quiet, patient, waiting to be acknowledged.
I pressed backspace and deleted the whole line. It felt too expressive. I wanted to save my changes and shut down the laptop—then I changed my mind and clicked undo.
"It's perfect the way it is," I told myself and finally hit submit. Then I went back to bed. His face appeared in my mind again that night, and I stared at the ceiling until I slowly drifted into sleep.
****
Monday morning came swiftly. I woke up and quickly began to prepare for class. I headed to the small kitchen in my apartment to make breakfast first. After cooking, I took my sweet time showering. Campus wasn't far from my building—it was about a ten-minute walk on foot.
My phone rang from the bed. Maya.
"Lila, good morning, bestie! Are you ready?" Her bubbly voice came from the other end.
I'd almost forgotten that she moved into my building days ago. I lived on the seventh floor, while she lived on the first.
"Sure, I just need to eat breakfast, and I'll meet you downstairs."
"Okay, hurry!"
Once I was done with breakfast, I headed down and met Maya by the parking lot. She pulled me into a tight hug.
"Thanks for helping me move the other day, Lila. I appreciate it."
"Come on, Maya. What are best friends for? Before I forget—have you submitted your essay?"
"What essay?"
I shot her an incredulous look.
"Professor Hale's essay. Advanced Literary Theories."
"Oh, that? I submitted it last night. I almost forgot about it."
"Same here. I submitted mine last night."
"You? Why? What happened? It's unlike you to submit things last minute."
"I wasn't satisfied with what I wrote. I kept changing and changing until Sunday night."
"Lila Shakespeare. Always so serious."
"You are—"
"Hey ladies, good morning." Ethan approached.
"Ethan, how are you? Welcome to the new semester," Maya greeted.
"There's nothing new about the semester. Same old classes, deadlines, and workload," Ethan said, shaking his head.
"Tell me about it. I can't wait to graduate. Little Miss Smart Ass over here wouldn't think the same though—she's always so serious."
"Maya, if you say that word again…" I said, narrowing my eyes.
We all burst into laughter as we made our way to class—Professor Adrian Hale's Advanced Literary Theories class. The class of the professor who had been on my mind last night until I fell asleep.
"You look beautiful today, by the way," Ethan said, smiling.
"Thanks, Ethan. You don't look too bad yourself."
When we walked in, the class was barely full. Ethan urged us to occupy the seats not too far from the front. Minutes later, students started pouring in—some discussing the essay, others already complaining about stress. We were only a few days into the semester and they were already whining.
Moments later, he walked in.
The room didn't fall as silent as it had during the first class, but I still felt the intensity of his presence—more so because of where I sat. He cleared his throat, and instantly, the chatter faded. My pulse raced as he spoke.
Today, he wasn't wearing a suit but a short-sleeved navy-blue shirt. From where I sat, I could see his toned arms as he gestured toward the projector behind him.
As if he noticed I had been staring, our eyes met once he turned—and I felt pinned in place. The room suddenly felt hot.
What is going on with me?
I averted my gaze and flipped through the pages of my notebook, pretending to read what I'd written. Then I realized I hadn't written anything.
"About the essay," he began. "I saw a lot of beautiful work. Some essays explored theory. One writer understood emotion—the kind that makes readers uncomfortable but unable to look away. It was impressive."
I froze.
Could he be talking about my essay?
Class continued, and I somehow managed to survive until the end. I was slowly packing my things when I heard him speak again.
"Miss Bennett? Can I have a word with you in my office?" he said gently, then walked out without waiting for my response.
My stomach dropped.
I froze in my seat, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Seems like someone did a fantastic job on their essay!" Maya teased.
"Go on, we'll wait for you," Ethan added.
I got up carefully and made my way out. The class was almost empty now as I moved past the last few students heading for the door.
I walked down the quiet corridor, searching for his office. Then my eyes landed on a door with Professor Adrian Hale neatly printed on a gold nameplate—just beside Dr. Vivian Hart's office.
I took a deep breath and knocked.