“Just making sure,” he says, fixing it and then setting the mug down in front of me. My eyes flicker upward, as I catch a scent of pine and cedar and something masculine. His gaze holds mine, but just for a split second, and then he backs away.
His presence is fucking suffocating.
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath, trying to regain control of my nerves as I address Molly. “Let’s get back to work,” I say, sliding the essay toward her. She exhales, looking grateful, and picks up her pencil again. I glance toward Calvin, who is leaning back against the counter now, still observing us.
The session resumes, but now every word I speak, every gesture I make, is under his watchful eye. It feels like a subtle game, this tension, and I have no idea why he seems so intrigued by my existence…
Unless he suspects something.
I push the thought away. “This sentence here,” I say to Molly, tapping the page, forcing my voice to remain even. “You’re circling an interesting idea, but you hesitate to claim it. You need to be bolder with your stance. Again, don’t imply, just state.”
“So… more confident?” Molly asks.
“Yes, but in the wording itself,” I answer, but my eyes shift toward Calvin without permission. He’s still watching me, sipping his coffee.
Why does he just stare at me? What point is he trying to make?
His eyes flicker with something that sends a strange pulse through my veins. It’s restrained.Controlled. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing just by standing there, mentally picking me apart.
I shift again, crossing my legs, instantly regretting it when his gaze drops—just for a fraction of a second—before snapping back to my face. My pulse stutters. Again.
Focus. Stop being so weird, Jenna. He’s an enemy for all you know.
Molly scribbles notes, oblivious, while Calvin pushes off the counter and moves closer under the pretense of refilling his mug.
“You always tutor at students’ homes?” he asks casually, lifting his mug to his lips and taking a sip.
“Only when necessary,” I reply, keeping my eyes on Molly’s paper. “Some students benefit from a quieter environment. Or you know, apparently the campus doesn’t seem safe, I guess.”
“Hmm,” he hums, not giving me anything else.
But the sound of his voice still curls around my spine.
Molly laughs lightly, setting her pencil down. “Dad, stop making this so weird.”
“Sorry,” he shrugs, eyes still on me. “I’m just making conversation.”
“It’s totally fine,” I swallow, my throat suddenly dry, as I try to focus once more. “Let’s take a look at your conclusion.” My tone comes out rushed. “This is where you really drive your argument home. You need to reiterate your theme, but in a cohesive nonrepetitive manner.”
As Molly leans in, Calvin steps away again, but it doesn’t prevent the air from still feeling charged around us. My skin hums where he stood, like it’s missing something it never should have wanted in the first place. The man is walking electricity, I freaking swear.
A few minutes pass as she works on it, and I keep trying to breathe. Calvin obviously has no problem with making me feel like I’m under strict observation—and clearly is out to torture me with conversation, or interrogation…
Whatever this is.
“You ever read Shakespeare outside of teaching it?” he asks, his deep voice rattling something in me.
I glance up despite myself, feeling far from grounded. “Sure, I have.”
“For pleasure?” His eyes sharpen. “Or obligation?”
“Both,” I answer after a beat. “But I don’t find Shakespeare as tantalizing as I once did. Some things lose their appeal once you know them too well.”
Something dark flickers across his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “They do.”
I hold his gaze, trying to read whatever emotion is etched into the lines of his face. However, it’s impossible to decipher, and the longer I stare at him, the tighter my chest starts to feel.
He’s like a curse or something.
