Chapter 40:

"The Thirst of Knowing"

The Student:

It began with tea.

Simple.

Harmless.

But the moment our fingers touched

I couldn't breathe.

Not in a frightened way.

No, not like that.

I felt… watched.

But chosen.

And I wanted it to happen again.

Now, everything she says feels like a secret.

A code.

Her words intellectual, eloquent, dangerous

latch onto my skin like soft claws.

I leave every lecture needing more.

I read the books she gives me twice.

Then again.

Not for the plot.

For the possibility that she picked each one to reach inside me.

And I think she knows I do.

She smiles like she does.

I find myself dressing differently.

Softer. Prettier. A bit… braver.

My lip gloss tastes like cherry.

I wear the perfume my mother says is too much.

Because when she looks at me,

when those eyes drag across my jaw like a sigh,

I want to be undone.

Sometimes I catch her staring.

Not directly no.

She's too practiced for that.

She uses reflections, windows, shadows.

And when I look back,

she doesn't flinch.

She smiles.

She waits.

I dream about her.

I don't even try to stop it.

In the dark, I imagine her voice in my ear.

Low. Calm.

Asking me questions no professor should.

Asking in a way that sounds like poetry

Like seduction dressed in philosophy.

In the library, I feel her behind me.

Not close enough to touch,

but close enough that my breath shortens.

Close enough to feel my body betraying me.

I drop my pen.

She picks it up.

Our fingers brush again.

"Careful," she murmurs.

"You're becoming quite the distraction."

I laugh like it's a joke.

But my stomach flips.

My thighs press.

My heart

a trembling thing she already owns.

I should be scared.

I should talk to someone.

I should run.

But all I do is wait for class,

fix my lipstick,

and wonder

what will happen

if I ask her to stay after.