I stretch my legs in front of me, mindlessly watching the television screen without seeing it. Dom said to bounce and leave them stranded, but there’s no way I can do that to her, especially when trying to stay in her good graces. I especially can’t do it to my idol.
Mostly, I don’t want to do it with the outside chance that I can get a kiss out of her tonight. There are so many reasons not to leave, and only one reason to go. To not fuck everything up. It’s the safest bet, and the biggest risk is staying.
Time ticks by on the clock.
My decision sways from side to side until the door bursts open, with her hurrying into the lobby. I jump to my feet, adrenaline pumping through my veins, ready to act. Her steps are unsteady, and her face is blotchy from crying.
The strong, composed Professor Rossi, who had no problem icing me, now looks like a completely different person.
Vulnerable.
Human.
When her gaze lands on me, she’s surprised I’m still here. Like she didn’t expect me to wait. Honestly, I didn’t know if I’d still be here either. If it were up to Dom, I wouldn’t be.
“How’s he doing?”
I tuck my phone into my pocket and rest my hands on my hips, itching to caress down her arms.
“Okay, it’s sprained, like you thought.”
Her perfect lips roll together, her eyes are red, and tiredness rests heavily on her features.
“A sprain we can deal with. I’ve had more of those than broken bones.”
I smile at her, keeping my voice clear of any inflection or tone that could flip this against me. She’s still open and exposed to me, and I’ll do almost anything to keep her like this. The other version is too tough to crack.
“Listen, Diego, I just . . . you know about before?—”
I step closer, keeping my movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to spook her. My hands stay planted on my hips, though everything in me screams to pull her back to where she feels safe enough to let go.
“You don’t have to say anything,” I cut in, dropping into a deeper octave to convey authority beyond my role as her student.
“Seriously. Whatever happened before, it’s not a big deal.”
Her brows draw together, a flicker of frustration crossing her face.
“It is, though. I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t cross anything. You needed someone. I was there. That’s it.”
Her lips press together, and she looks away, her gaze darting to the far side of the room. The moment of openness is slipping through my fingers. I can feel her pulling away, retreating into that cold, composed professor mode.
“Isabella.”
Her name slides out before I can stop it.
It’s the first time I’ve said it.
The way her wide, startled eyes snap back to mine tells me she notices. Her throat works as she swallows, and the faintest tremor in her chin betrays the effort it takes to keep it together.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs, worried and hushed. “This is . . . complicated.”
Kokami.
She didn’t say wrong.
I can work with that.
