♕ Chapter 6 ♕

All the best parts of Saturday night were a blur. So naturally, all the parts you wanted to forget burned all too bright in your memory—your painful encounter with Ren when you saw him with that- that woman. The embarrassing encounter with him right after—the one that began with you throwing up in a trash can on the sidewalk and ended with you biting back tears while your friends shuffled you into the back of Poe's car.

You'd never dreaded your classes with Ren before. Even after this whole...thing started, the anticipation of seeing him in the classroom, knowing he'd be seeing you, filled you with so much excitement you had thought you could burst.

Now, you were dreading it. You were embarrassed. But more than that, you were angry. And the anger superseded the embarrassment by a long shot. You had gotten too drunk. And you had somehow run into Kylo fucking Ren while you were out, and that sucked. But you reminded yourself that it wasn't your fault you'd wound up in the same place, and in fact, he was the last person you'd wanted to see. The entire point of going out was for you to jumpstart the process of getting over him.

You used to practically get buzzed off of picking your outfit for class. You used to make it a point to try and be noticed. To try and distract him during his lectures. Throwing it all together- your makeup, your hair, your clothes—it became your mission to look as best as you could so that he'd notice you. And to watch him, trying to catch him in the act of checking you out. That was a flirtation in itself, wasn't it? It was fun. Exciting. Thrilling. It never worked, of course. Or, rather, it actually did work, but he never let on.

Today was different.

You'd spent Sunday hungover, and you didn't hear a word from Ren. Monday, you were feeling marginally better physically speaking, but emotionally you were just as much as a wreck as you were the day before, and the day before that.

Who the hell was that woman?

Tall, dark, and intimidating-looking, she'd looked like she'd stepped out of Vogue magazine. She was hotter than every woman you'd seen that night, and that made you despise her even more. And the worst part was he didn't owe you anything. She wasn't doing anything wrong. You were mad. And you didn't have a reason to be—not at her.

Because you and Kylo weren't even together. You never were.

Him, on the other hand, you were furious with. And you had reason to be.

Facing him, facing it all. You were dreading it. You were dreading it so much you considered skipping. You almost did. You were nearly late because you stayed in bed up to the last possible minute, having made up your mind that you weren't going to his dumb class.

But then you realized you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. And with barely any time to spare, you leapt out of bed, shoving your blankets to the side with frustration, yanked on some leggings, saying "fuck you" to the concept of underwear, threw on a white cropped tee-shirt and an over-sized sweatshirt you'd stolen from Poe's car the other night when you were cold and crying and whining. Throwing your backpack over your shoulder and slipping a pair of Birkenstocks over your socks, you hustled out the door, grabbing your sunglasses and lanyard off the coffee table as you went.

And though you couldn't believe how shit your life felt, within ten minutes of you leaving your dorm and power-walking across campus, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot in Ren's  classroom, staring out the window with knots in your stomach, wondering why he was running late and wishing he would just show up already so you could get the trauma of watching him walk into the room over with.

He walked in not three minutes late. You couldn't keep your head from jerking up and towards the door each time you heard someone arrive, and when he walked through the door, you made eye contact immediately.

For a half-second, it looked like he stalled in the doorway, taking you in, as if he was surprised to see that you were there at all.

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment you thought the wind had been knocked out of you. But the moment he dropped his gaze and walked over to his desk to throw down his bag, you exhaled, looking town at the tabletop underneath you and wringing your hands in your lap.

The lecture droned on. You didn't have any interest in listening to Ren, and to be honest, were only there for your attendance grade and to spite him. You spent the classroom gazing out the window, your head in your hand, propped up by your elbow on your desk. And for once, Ren didn't give you trouble. He picked on kids all the time for not paying attention, but you were the only one he ever singled out for virtually not doing anything wrong in the first place. He'd call you out in front of everyone when you took too long to think about the answer to a question and say that you were underprepared. He'd call you out for not paying attention just because you hadn't raised your hand in a while. You weren't sure if it was because he was trying to push you to be better, or because he got off on singling you out.

But you were starting to figure out that it was probably both.

Today, though, for the first time, you weren't hiding your lack of interest. And for once, Ren didn't call you out. You guess he'd gotten the picture that you wouldn't be in the fucking mood.

Halfway through the lecture, you made eye contact with him, and it knocked the breath out of your lungs and caused your stomach to flip over in your belly. You tried not to let on, and you held his gaze until you looked away from him, back out the window.

At the end of the period, you were ready to slip out the door. You gathered your things and headed for the door, ending up at the back of the crowd. For the first time, you were eager to disappear into the throng of the rest of his students. For once, you didn't want to stand out.

And of course, that was the time he held you back.

"[L/N]. Not quite yet; I'd like to speak with you, please." He said flatly.

You stopped in your tracks. You closed your eyes.

You could just leave. It's not like this would have anything to do with class. He had no right to keep you here. No right to use his standing as a professor to ask you to "stay and talk after class."

But you knew you wouldn't leave. You knew within an instant that you'd stay. Turn around. Look at him. And listen.

And that's exactly what you did.

But you weren't-- and didn't look-- fucking happy about it.

You scowled at him, clutching your textbook to your chest, which you'd elected to not pack away into your bag to save time and get out of the classroom quicker. A futile attempt at getting out as quickly as possible.

There was a long silence between you. You stared at him, grimace plain on your face, chin tilted upward in defiance, but the corners of your lips twitched downwards in sadness. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill over and contort your whole expression into your ugly-cry face. You wanted to stay strong. You had to.

"What do you want?" You asked after a long pause.

The second silence was almost just as long. He looked at you for a long moment without moving, jaw set contemplatively just as it always was when he was deep in thought, before crossing his arms.

"That was quite the performance Saturday night." He said lowly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before cocking his head. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

You scoffed. "You seem positively concerned." Your voice was dry and sarcastic as humanly possible. "The mocking really seals the deal."

He gave you an irritated look. "I'm being serious."

"So serious you didn't even try to ask in the last," you made a performance of looking down at an invisible watch on your wrist. "Nearly 48 hours?"

"Well I couldn't exactly make an appearance at your dorm." He said flatly. "Not exactly an appropriate environment for a professor to enter into."

Neither is a student's cunt, you thought, but bit back the words just in time. You couldn't blame him for that. You were more than willing. You wanted it. Wanted him. Wanted him beyond just sex, and you were hurt that he didn't want you back.

"Have you forgotten that phones are a thing?" You scoffed again. "You certainly haven't hesitated to call upon me before."

"I thought that you would want some time," he explained with no particular patience in his voice, "and I wanted to see you." You felt your lip quiver. He lowered his voice suddenly, eyes darting towards the door that you'd left open. "Before I said anything, I wanted to see you." He said quickly. Too quickly.

"Well. I'm fine. Thanks for your concern." You spat.

"You seem fine." He said, the sarcasm rampant but dry in his gruff voice.

"You know what? You didn't stick around to make sure I was fine. You went right back into that bar to cuddle up to whoever-whatever woman you were with. And that's alright." You said, taking a step back and raising your free hand. "I didn't ask you to. You don't owe me that." You scoffed.

"What would you have had me do? Tell your friends I wanted to take you home myself? And- and that woman I was with? She's just a friend." His voice was growing just as flustered as yours.

"I don't care what she is!" You hissed, eyes glancing toward the door. It seemed like everyone was filing out, save a few stragglers that hadn't quite made it towards the exit. You looked down, taking a furious deep breath, and tried to compose yourself and look as inconspicuous as possible should anyone glance in. "I don't care what she is." This time, your voice lower, the hushed words feigning a sense of calmness that you didn't truly feel. "It's none of my business." The words tasted sour in your mouth, whether it was the truth or not. "In fact," you laughed bitterly, "Since you've made it so painstakingly clear what this is," you said, gesturing between the both of you, "you shouldn't have come after me in the first place." You gave him a subtle but smug look. "I don't even understand why you did."

"You're a bright girl. I think you know perfectly well that I cared enough to go after you." He spat back. The word "care" sounded foreign in his mouth, you realized. And by the look on his face, you guessed that it felt foreign for him to use.

You shook your head in disbelief. "You really don't make any fucking sense." You whispered. "You expect me to just show up wherever you are and fuck you at your beck and call, and then tell me to get the fuck out when we're done and that I can't so much look you in the eye afterwards. And now you're telling me that you care?"

Your voice was strained, hurt, the words coming out on shaking air. Your body trembled. He watched you as you shook with anger and confusion and frustration. And for a moment, you wondered why you were still there. Why you cared to stay and try and hear him out if he had nothing to give you but mixed-signals and pain.

But then, he was just sort of on you. And all thoughts of wanting to leave were as far away in your mind as could possibly be.

Your books clattered to the floor. He leapt up to cup your face in his hands and kissed you fiercely. His mouth crashed against yours, hands gripped you tight, lips molded against your own. Your hands found the sides of his face and you clutched him against you, all pretenses of leaving him, of being done, completely having vanished.

The scuff of sneakers outside the door caused you to shove him away, your head snapping towards the entryway. You held your breath in sheer terror, but exhaled when you saw that no one was there. You looked back to Kylo, who looked just as caught in the headlights as you felt. You ran to the door, shut it, and locked it, and by the time you turned around, he was already there, hands on your waist, lips finding yours again.

He was gentler this time, savoring your taste, his tongue dragging across your lower lip. You had questions of course—If he was angry with you for finding out about Ben Solo. If this meant you were together now, at least more together than you were before. If this meant that he cared for you—truly. But there would be time for words later. Each time a thought entered your brain, it wisped away, vanishing completely every time you heard one of his small, gruff, and completely precious moans. The sound vibrated against your lips and made you go dizzy.

You could have kept tasting him forever. His lips were soft, but his kiss perfectly and deliciously rough. Each time he shifted his lips, molded them against yours, you relished in the sound each kiss made.

"Kylo." You breathed into his open mouth as his tongue slid against yours. He groaned in response, the sound of his name causing him to press against you harder. Faster. His hands moved to yank your leggings down. Whimpering, you struggled to keep his lips against yours as you moved to step out of your leggings, holding onto his collar for balance.

He growled, his fingers darting to unbuckle his belt.

You heard the zip of his jeans, and then, just against your head, on the other side of the wood behind you, you heard a knock at the door.

You went frozen in his arms.

Your gaze found his in an instant. His eyes were as wide as the moon for a moment. But when he heard the second knock, his head snapped up to look at the door. He lifted a finger to his lips, pulling you gently by the arm away from the door, as if there was a monster on the other side.

"Professor Ren." You heard an unfriendly voice from the outside, and it only made you panic even more.

You stumbled and reached down to yank up your leggings as he buckled his belt and shifted the bulge in his pants through his pocket. Just after you bent down to scramble up your things, he pointed to the desk and you darted towards it, shoving away all of your books except one, opening it to a random page. He looked at you, his hand on the doorknob, and nodded, a silent understanding clear between the two of you.

And then he turned to the door and opened it.

You'd only seen the Dean of Students once or twice in all your years at the University. Once at homecoming, and once at a graduation ceremony you attended for a friend. But there he stood, stoic and cold in the doorway, eyes meeting Kylo Ren's.

"Dean Hux." Ren said flatly. Fuck, he was composed as hell. That was good. Just seconds ago, he had been a growling beast with his tongue in your mouth and hard cock pressed against your center. He didn't let on at all. But something about Hux's eyes were scrutinizing. It made you nervous. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, hoping you looked half as inconspicuous.

"Per my email from this morning, I thought I'd pay you a visit. I wanted to personally congratulate you on a very successful evaluation by the Board.

You stood behind Kylo, a few feet away, and couldn't see his face. You would still have staked your life on it that he was smirking at Hux, though. You heard him let out a small chuckle. "I'm sure you were thrilled with those results, Hux. You'll have to forgive me. I forgot about your little request to stop by." He said, taking a step back and turning casually to face you. His eyes met yours for a second, and unlike the faux-calmness in his body, they were laser-focused and hyper-aware.

But it wasn't like Kylo to forget things. You felt a twinge of concern in your heart.

"I was just meeting with a student."

Hux's eyes landed on you, and you suddenly felt like you were being dissected.

"My apologies about the door. It shut after the rest of my students left. Someone must have left it locked." He said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you. "This is [Y/N]. She's my best student. Truly the most remarkable in her class. I'm happy to show you some of her work on Freud and Schklovsky. And Shakespeare, for that matter," he chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "If we'd had her in class when we were students, she would have given you a run for your money."

You heart swelled with pride and flattery. You tried not to look at him lovingly.

Something of a grimace drifted into Hux's features.

"Another time, perhaps." He mumbled, giving you a pained smile and a nod. "Again, Professor, I just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done, and say that I hope there are no hard feelings. I'm only doing my job." He said the words like he was a goddamn lieutenant.

"Understood, Hux." Kylo said, giving him a smug grin. "Glad it worked out the way it did."

Hux gave you one more look, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes narrow at you. But without another word, he turned on his heel, and was out the door as quickly as he'd come.

You stood in silence for a good few moments after Hux left. And after some time had passed, the two of you exhaled at the same time. You looked at the floor. There was a feeling of clear relief in the room. But there was something else. A sour feeling. Not dread, not exactly. But the feeling that what had just happened was far too close of a call. And that you could never, ever come that close to getting caught again.