Chapter 15:

"Greenhouse"

The Teacher:

I told them the key was lost.

But it waits in my pocket, warm from want.

The greenhouse overgrown, wild,

Like the things I feel for her.

I water nothing.

Let vines choke glass.

Let orchids bloom from rot.

Let her walk into my web of wet petals

and pressed heat.

She steps in.

Dew on her lip.

No idea it's all for her.

My voice is soft,

Too soft.

And she listens like she always does

with parted lips, like she's tasting

a forbidden fruit.

I lean close to show her

the trembling edge of a carnivorous plant.

But her pulse

is the thing that feeds me.

I don't touch her.

Not yet.

I let her imagine it.

My breath against her ear

how easily I could open her

like a flower blooming wrong

in the wrong season.

Tonight she learns

that curiosity is a cage

and I am

so much worse

than a secret.

The Student:

I knew I shouldn't.

But her voice

it loops around me like ivy,

slow, seductive, patient.

She tells me about flora

but her eyes

undress me.

The air is thick.

My legs don't move

not from fear

but from desire

I don't understand.

She brushes past.

Or doesn't.

Maybe the leaf brushed me,

or her blouse,

or I imagined it,

but my spine reacts like I've been kissed.

She's too calm.

Too close.

She says my name like it belongs

in her mouth.

I try to ask

why she locked the door.

But she lifts a finger,

presses it to her own lips,

then smiles.

That killer smile.

That unspoken rule I already broke.

And I realize

She didn't just invite me here.

She built this place

for me

to unravel.