THAYER'S POV
Someone's knocking on my apartment door at 9:47 PM.
I'm halfway through my third glass of whiskey, trying not to think about tomorrow's office hours with Tesslyn, when the pounding starts.
Urgent. Desperate.
I check the peephole.
It's her.
My heart stops. She's here. At my apartment. Looking terrified.
Every alarm bell in my head screams: Don't open it. This is exactly what we can't do.
I open it anyway.
"Tesslyn—"
She pushes past me, inside, closing the door behind her. Her eyes are wild. "Someone knows. Someone's threatening us."
All the whiskey clarity vanishes. "What?"
She shoves her phone at me. Unknown number. Multiple texts.
Saw you with him today. In his office. Alone.
Does your boyfriend know?
Does the university know their professor is sleeping with students?
Ice runs through my veins. "When did you get these?"
"An hour ago." Her voice shakes. "Right after I confirmed our office hours for tomorrow. Thayer, someone's watching us. They know everything."
I read the messages again. The wording. The timing. This isn't random. This is someone who knows exactly what they're doing.
"The text I got," I say slowly. "It said the same thing. 'I know what you did.'"
"So we're both being targeted." She's pacing now, hands in her hair. "Who could it be? Dr. Frost?"
"Frost would go straight to the dean. She wouldn't play games." I think hard. "Who else saw us that first day?"
"Other students. But they wouldn't know about—" She stops. Looks at me. "Unless someone saw us at the bar. Two weeks ago."
The possibility hits like a punch. "Someone from the university. Someone who recognized both of us."
"But you didn't tell me your name that night. I didn't tell you I was starting at Ashcroft." She's spiraling. "How would they connect us?"
Good question. Unless—
"Your acceptance letter," I say suddenly. "You had it at the bar. Ashcroft University letterhead."
Her face goes pale. "Oh God. Someone could have seen it. Could have known you teach there."
We stare at each other, the reality sinking in.
Someone orchestrated this. Watched us that night. Waited. And now they're making their move.
"You need to leave," I say, even though every part of me wants her to stay. "If someone's watching, you being here is—"
"Too late for that." She laughs bitterly. "I already came. If they're watching, they already know."
She's right. The damage is done.
"Why did you come?" I ask quietly. "You could have called. Emailed."
"Because they're watching our emails. Our calls." She steps closer. "And because I'm terrified, Thayer. I'm nineteen years old. I worked my entire life for this scholarship. If this comes out, I lose everything."
My chest tightens. "I won't let that happen."
"How? You can't control this. Neither can I." Tears shine in her eyes. "Maybe we should just... tell the truth. Go to the dean. Explain it happened before the semester started."
"No." My voice is sharp. "That's exactly what they want. The moment we admit there was something between us, we're done. You lose your scholarship. I lose my job. And whoever's blackmailing us wins."
"So what do we do?"
I run both hands through my hair, thinking. "We call their bluff. Whoever this is, they haven't gone public yet. They're waiting for something."
"For what?"
"More evidence. Proof we're still involved." I meet her eyes. "Tomorrow's office hours. They're testing us. Seeing if we'll meet alone again."
Understanding dawns on her face. "So we cancel."
"No. We go through with it." A plan forms in my mind. "But we do it smart. Door open. Recorded on my office camera. Completely professional. Nothing they can use."
"You have a camera in your office?"
"University installed them last year. Safety measure." I hate those cameras normally. Now they might save us. "If someone accuses us, we have proof tomorrow's meeting was appropriate."
She nods slowly. "Okay. We can do that. Just... act normal."
"Normal." I almost laugh. Nothing about this is normal.
She's in my apartment again. Close enough to touch. The girl who's been haunting my every thought for two weeks.
The girl who sits in my classroom three times a week, head down, never speaking.
"You've been hiding," I say before I can stop myself. "In class. You never participate."
Her jaw tightens. "I'm trying to make this easier."
"Easier how? By pretending you're not brilliant?" The frustration I've been holding breaks free. "That night, you quoted Emily Dickinson from memory. Analyzed Brontë like breathing. Now you sit there silent, and it's killing me."
"Killing you?" Her voice rises. "You wanted me to forget it happened! You said it was nothing!"
"I lied!" The words explode out. "It wasn't nothing. You weren't nothing. And watching you hide who you are because of me—" I stop myself. Too much. Way too much.
But the truth is out now. Hanging between us.
"What do you want from me?" she whispers.
Everything. I want everything.
But what I say is: "I want you to be yourself. In class. Participate. Show everyone how smart you are. That's all."
"That's all?" She steps closer. Dangerous. "Because it sounds like you want more."
I should step back. Create distance. Be the responsible adult.
But three years of being dead, of going through motions, of feeling nothing—it all crumbles in the face of this girl who makes me feel alive.
"I want things I can't have," I admit roughly. "Things that would destroy us both."
Her breath catches. "Thayer—"
My phone rings. Shattering the moment.
I grab it. Jensen's name on the screen.
"What?" I answer, not looking away from Tesslyn.
"Turn on the news." Jensen's voice is urgent. "Channel 7. Now."
Something in his tone makes my blood run cold. I grab the remote, turn on the TV.
The local news is on. A reporter stands in front of Ashcroft's main building.
"—scandal rocking Ashcroft University tonight as anonymous sources claim a professor is engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a student. University officials refuse to comment, but our sources say an investigation has been launched—"
The world tilts sideways.
"Thayer?" Jensen's voice sounds far away. "Tell me that's not about you."
I can't speak. Can't breathe.
Tesslyn stares at the TV, face white as paper.
"They went public," she whispers. "Oh God. They went public."
The reporter continues: "While names haven't been released, sources say the relationship began before the semester started, raising questions about whether university policy was actually violated—"
My phone explodes. Text after text. Email after email.
Dean's office: Emergency meeting tomorrow. 8 AM. Mandatory.
Department head: We need to talk. Immediately.
Linnea Frost: I warned you.
"Thayer." Tesslyn's voice is shaking. "What do we do? What do we DO?"
Before I can answer, there's a knock at my door.
We both freeze.
Another knock. Louder.
"Professor Murdoch?" A male voice. Official. "Campus security. We need to speak with you."
Tesslyn's eyes go huge. "The back door—"
"There's cameras everywhere," I cut her off. "If you run, you look guilty."
"If I stay, we're caught!"
The knocking gets more insistent. "Professor Murdoch. Open the door or we'll have to use our key."
I look at Tesslyn. This brilliant, beautiful girl who came to me for help.
Who I dragged into this nightmare.
"Hide," I say quickly. "Bedroom. Don't make a sound."
"Thayer—"
"Go. Now."
She runs for the bedroom, door clicking shut just as I open the front door.
Two security officers. Both looking grim.
"Professor Murdoch. Sorry for the late visit." The older one checks his tablet. "We're doing wellness checks on faculty mentioned in tonight's news report."
"I haven't been mentioned by name."
"No. But we have reports you were seen with a female student earlier today. Young woman, brown hair, around nineteen years old."
My heart pounds. "I meet with many students."
"This particular student." He shows me his tablet. Security footage. Today. Tesslyn entering my office. Leaving twenty minutes later, looking upset.
"That was a standard academic meeting," I say carefully. "She had questions about the syllabus."
"I'm sure." He doesn't sound convinced. "Is there anyone here with you now, Professor?"
From the bedroom, absolute silence. I pray Tesslyn stays quiet.
"No. I'm alone."
He looks past me, into the apartment. "Mind if we check?"
Everything inside me screams no. But refusing makes me look guilty.
"Of course."
They step inside. Start walking through the apartment.
Living room. Kitchen. Moving toward the bedroom.
Where Tesslyn is hiding.
If they find her here, at night, in my apartment—we're done. No explaining that away.
The older officer reaches for the bedroom door handle.
And my phone rings again.
Jensen's name. I ignore it.
It keeps ringing. Urgent.
"Excuse me," I say, answering. "What—"
"They're at your apartment, aren't they?" Jensen cuts in. "Don't let them search without a warrant. That's your right. University security can't—"
"I have nothing to hide," I say loudly. For the officers' benefit.
"Thayer, listen to me. There's something you need to know about who's behind this—"
The bedroom door opens.
Empty.
Wait. Empty?
The officers check inside. Bathroom. Closet. Nothing.
"Satisfied?" I ask, heart racing. Where did she go?
They exchange looks. "For now. But Professor Murdoch? Whatever's going on? End it. Before it ends your career."
They leave.
I lock the door behind them. Rush to the bedroom.
The window's open. Fire escape outside.
She climbed out. In the time it took them to search the front of the apartment, she escaped.
My phone buzzes. Text from unknown number—Tesslyn must have gotten a burner.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. This is all my fault.
I text back: Where are you? Are you safe?
Going back to my dorm. We can't contact each other again. It's too dangerous.
Tesslyn—
I mean it, Thayer. Whatever this was—it's over. It has to be.
I stare at my phone.
She's right. She's absolutely right.
We end this now, or we both go down in flames.
But as I stand there, looking at the empty bedroom where she hid, the open window she climbed through—
All I can think is: I'm not ready to let her go.
And that might destroy us both.