Apparently, yes. Yes, it absolutely can.
“Ms. Fiegel. A word?”
My head snaps up and I go cold.
Professor Wallace stands in front of me, hands on his hips, the exact stance of a disappointed father who’s just had enough. His expression is unreadable, which is worse than angry. My blood turns to ice.
I scramble to my feet, nearly knocking over the stool. “Professor. This is a surprise.”
“Yes,” he says, his voice smooth and measured in a way that somehow sounds like judgment wrapped in velvet. “There have been a lot of surprises tonight.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. All the excuses I might’ve used— “It wasn’t what it looked like,” “I didn’t know you’d be here,” “I lost a bet”—get caught somewhere between my brain and my pride.
Instead, I just stand there, blinking at him like a deer in the world’s most humiliating headlights.
He tilts his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back something. A smile? A scolding? I can’t tell.
“I have to admit,” he says, voice low, “that’s not how I expected to see one of my top students tonight.”
My pulse kicks.
“I—I didn’t plan this,” I stammer. “Amber signed us up. I tried to leave before the water and then there were bouncers and?—”
He lifts a hand, cutting off my rambling. “I’m not here to reprimand you, Olive. Off-campus life is yours to live. I’m simply surprised.”
Surprised. Right. But the way his eyes drag down my face, pausing just a second too long at my mouth, says more than surprise. It says he noticed. It says he’s seeing me as more than just a name on a grade sheet.
I shift on my feet, hyperaware of every inch of bare skin, the clinging fabric, the messy cascade of damp hair. And I swear, for a heartbeat, there’s something electric between us. Wrong, inappropriate, but real.
Then—
“Hey, Olivia!” That voice. That smug, shit-eating voice.
I turn just in time to see Liam strolling up, shirt wrinkled, hair a little tousled, like he just stepped out of a GQ cowboy fantasy ruined by the smirk on his face and Amber nowhere in sight.
“Your friend left her purse in your car and needs it,” he says. His eyes flick to Professor Wallace. “Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting something with your dad?”
Professor Wallace straightens ever so slightly, jaw ticking.
“No,” I say quickly, stepping back. “No, not at all.”
Liam’s grin widens. “Didn’t catch your name, man.”
The tension between them tightens like a rope. Wallace gives a polite but chilly nod. “Professor Wallace.”
Liam raises an eyebrow. “Professor, huh? Well, lucky students.”
“I should go,” I blurt, needing to escape the testosterone, the humiliation, the heat. “Thank you for… um… not failing me.”
Professor Wallace’s gaze lingers on mine a beat longer. “Goodnight, Olive.”
But when I turn to leave, Liam falls into step beside me.
He says low enough that only I can hear, “So, was he gonna lecture you or offer extra credit?”
I stop in my tracks and glare at him. “You’re a jackass.”
He chuckles. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier.”
