It’s safe.
Today, however, the words feel foreign in my mouth. My lecture flows automatically, muscle memory carrying me through as my mind lingers on the one student who isn’t in the room.
My first class ends, and my nerves are shot knowing that I’ll be seeing Jackson in the next one. I don’t bother going back to my office for the next forty-five minutes, knowing damn well I won’t get any work done there. I actually manage to get a few papers graded at my desk in the classroom between lectures.
When the students for my next class start milling in, I swear I can sense Jackson’s presence. I peer up from my work and am almost unnerved to see my sense was right.
And fuck if he doesn’t look even more beautiful to me now.
He walks in like nothing’s wrong, his book bag slung over one shoulder, that half smile tugging at the corner of his full mouth. His eyes—those sharp, searching green ones that sparkle just like emeralds when the light hits them—find mine from across the room, and for a second, I almost forget how to breathe.
Guilt twists in my gut again.
He’s changed since the start of the semester. There’s something different about him now, something stronger, more self-assured. It should make it easier to distance myself, but instead it just draws me further in.
This time, it’s a bit more difficult to focus entirely on my lecture. My eyes keep landing on Jackson no matter how many times I correct them. Every time he leans forward to jot down notes, I catch myself staring. Every time he looks up, it feels like he knows.
All I want to do is look at him. Touch him. Make him come undone for me all over again.
But Ican’t.
After I end class, I watch as Jackson stands from his seat. The moment he takes one step toward the front of the room, towardme, I know I have to stop him.
“Mr. Ellis.”
He halts in his tracks.
“See me in my office at the end of the day.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yes, Sir.”
I’m so fucked.
The day crawls by, eachclass bleeding into the next. I barely remember what I lectured on, what questions were asked. Like those times you’re in your car and your mind is so full that you blackout and forget part of the drive. Every moment is flashes of colored light, that knowledge that Jackson will walk through my door again.
When the knock finally comes, my pulse spikes.
“Come in.”
The door to my office opens, and Jackson steps inside. He closes the door softly behind him, and I watch as his hand hovers over the lock for several seconds as though he’s trying to make a decision. Relief settles in my chest when he turns away without locking it.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Take a seat.” I keep my tone steady and gesture to the chair on the other side of my desk.
He slowly crosses the room, appearing a little more unsure of himself than I’m used to seeing him as he settles in the chair and shifts uncomfortably. It only heightens my unease.
“I apologize that I didn’t reach out over the weekend. I should’ve checked to see how you were doing.”
That seems to alleviate some of his tension. “I’m okay. It kind of hurt to sit down the next day,” he says, his mouth twitching into a faint, uneven smile. “But I’m okay.”
“Good. Listen, Jackson…” I sigh and lean back in my seat, lacing my fingers together over my stomach, peering at him over the desk. There’s so much uncertainty in his gaze, but the briefest glimpse of hope has my heart in my throat. “You know that can’t happen again, right?”
His smile slips, but he quickly covers it up with something that turns into a half grimace, half sad smile. “I figured you’d say that.”
“It’s not…” I clear my throat, stopping myself before the wordsthat I don’t want tocan escape. “You understand why?”
He nods. “It’s against the rules. I get it. I’d never ask you to risk your career.”
