And now Owen wants me to watch her. Wants me to keep close tabs on the one person I absolutely cannot allow myself to want.
She'll be here tonight at seven. Same as always. And I'm going to have to sit across from her and pretend the past few days of forced distance haven't been slowly killing me.
Chapter Sixteen
Back to Nova’s POV
Iknock on Professor Harmon's door at exactly seven and wait. He's had other professors cover the last two sessions so I'm half expecting someone else to answer, but it's his voice that calls out.
"Enter."
There's surprise mixed with the familiar nerves when I realize he's actually here. I push the door open and step inside.
Julian is at his desk with his head down, pen moving across papers in those exact strokes that somehow manage to look elegant despite being utterly practical. He doesn't look up when I enter, doesn't acknowledge my presence for several long seconds that stretch out uncomfortably.
The air in his office feels different tonight. Heavier. My skin is already too warm from the heat that still hasn't fully released its grip on me, and being in this small space with him makes it worse. I can smell cedar and old books and somethingunderneath that's just him, and my body responds in ways I'm trying hard to ignore.
"Sit, Miss Bardot."
I sit and pull out my notebook, trying to ignore how my pulse is racing just from being in the same room as him.
He sets down his pen but keeps his eyes on the papers in front of him. "Chapter twelve through sixteen. Territorial disputes following the 1847 reforms. I want a comprehensive analysis of the economic factors driving the consolidation patterns. Due tomorrow."
I wait for him to continue, to explain the assignment or give me the usual resources. When he doesn't, I realize what he's saying. "That's five chapters in one night."
"Is that a problem, Miss Bardot?"
"That's not possible. Not if you want comprehensive analysis."
"Then I suggest you prioritize your time more efficiently." He picks up his pen again like the conversation is over. "The library has additional resources if you need them."
I stare at him, trying to understand what's happening. He still hasn't looked directly at me. His jaw is clenched tight and I can see a muscle jumping there. This isn't his usual cold professionalism. This is something else. This is intent cruelty, assigning work he knows I can't complete just to watch me struggle. And he won't look at me because if he does, I think something is going to break.
"What did I do wrong?"
The pen stops moving. "Excuse me?"
"You've been avoiding me for days and now you're..." I don't know how to finish that sentence. Now you're punishing me? Now you're being cruel? "Why are you doing this?"
He finally looks at me and his expression is so carefully blank it must be taking enormous effort to maintain. But I can see thetension in his shoulders, can see his breathing has gone slightly uneven. The air between us feels thick with things neither of us is saying.
"I'm your professor, not your confidant, Miss Bardot. If you find the workload challenging, perhaps you should reconsider whether you're suited for advanced studies at this Academy."
The words land like physical blows. I've survived the Dominion trials, Nico's betrayal, public humiliation in front of the entire student body. But somehow this is worse. Because Julian was the one person who made me feel like I might be worth the space I occupy, and now he's looking at me like I'm just another struggling student he's already written off.
"You didn't used to look at me like that." The words come out quieter than I intended.
His jaw tightens but he doesn't break eye contact. "Like what?"
"Like I'm nothing. Like I don't matter."
The silence that follows feels endless. I can hear the clock ticking on the wall, can hear my own heartbeat in my ears. He's gripping his pen hard enough that his knuckles have gone white.
"You matter, Miss Bardot." His voice comes out rougher than usual, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will. "That's the problem."
The admission hits me harder than I expected. He just said I matter. Professor Julian Harmon, who maintains perfect professional distance with everyone, just admitted that I matter to him and somehow that's a problem. My heart is doing something complicated in my chest and I don't know if I should feel relieved or terrified.
"How is that a problem?"
