Chapter 2
1702 Words
Eli’s Point of View
There were still three of us at the table. Silent. And burning under the gaze of one person.
Miss Camille.
She didn’t say anything, but I could feel the weight of her presence. She was like a bomb you knew would go off—and when it did, you’d be the first one hit.
I glanced at Miss Amara. She looked chill. Still reading like she didn’t feel the tension crackling in the air. After a few minutes, she closed her book and stood up.
“I’ll get back to my office,” she said as she fixed her bag. She glanced at Camille. “Good luck,” she added with a smile—as if she knew something.
The moment she left, the silence dropped like a stone. Miss Amara was gone. It was just me and Camille. And her anger—no longer hidden.
She didn’t speak right away. She stood up. I stood up, too—I already knew there was a conversation coming. I couldn’t pretend anymore that nothing was wrong.
“Follow me,” she said coldly, not even looking at me. She walked straight out of the library.
I followed her out. We passed through a hallway rarely used by students, until we reached a small reading nook at the back of the faculty building.
When she finally turned to face me, it was like all the emotions she’d been holding in came crashing down.
“What the hell was that, Eli?” she asked softly, but the tear in her voice was sharp.
I looked away. “We were just reading—”
“With Amara?” she let out a forced laugh. “Seriously?”
“I didn’t do anything, Miss,” I answered, heart pounding in my ears. “We were just reading. I just wanted to get ahead in my studies. You’re just jealous.”
She stepped closer, barely a hand’s breadth between us. “Eli… you know what that looked like to me?”
“What look?” I asked.
“Her eyes were on you—admiring you. And I hate it. I want to be the only one who looks at you like that.”
I let out a quiet laugh, just listening to her.
“Don’t,” she added, voice quieter now—but more painful, because tears were falling from her eyes.
I stayed silent. I didn’t know how to calm her down. I wanted to hug her, to say it meant nothing. But I just stood there, speechless.
“Do I really have to watch over you everywhere? Even here? Inside campus? In the library?”
She turned away and rubbed her forehead. “You know how careful we have to be.”
I stepped closer, slowly. “Miss… I wasn’t flirting. I swear. I just wanted to learn. It wasn’t like I could control who was there.”
Stupid Eli.
“But did you even think about me, Eli? That— Ughhhhh.”
She turned back to me, and then I saw it—it wasn’t just anger in her eyes. It was fear.
“Because you’re jealous?” I asked again.
Fear that I might leave her.
Or maybe… fear that she might lose me.
“Don’t you realize what other faculty might think if they saw you with Amara—looking like you were close?”
“Because you're jealous?” I asked once more.
I took a deep breath. Moved even closer.
“All I’ve been thinking about… is how hard you’ve been working just to protect us. That’s why I don’t come near you at school. That’s why even if I want to hold you, I don’t—when we’re on campus. I can’t even tell you I love you, even when I’m dying to scream it sometimes.”
She was quiet.
I reached for her hand. She pulled away at first, but eventually let me take it.
“Camille,” I whispered. “It’s just you. Always has been.”
She closed her eyes, and finally—the softness returned to her gaze.
“Sometimes I forget you’re still young.”
She’s not even that much older than me, only five years.
I smiled. “Sometimes you forget you love me.”
She laughed, even with tears still clinging to her lashes. “f**k, fine. I love you.”
“Wow, such foul language, Miss.”
I grinned. “But fine. I love you too. Because you’re mine.”
“Okay, so if I see you with Amara again—I will literally break your neck.”
Ouch.
The bell rang. Loud.
I quickly pulled away from her embrace. We both knew—it was time to hide our world again.
“You’ve got class,” she said quietly, avoiding my eyes.
I nodded. “You too, prof,” I replied with a forced smile. I didn’t ask for a kiss or hug. Not here. Not now.
I went ahead into the hallway. I deliberately slowed my pace so it wouldn’t look like we came from the same place, but I still felt her presence behind me. Just a few steps apart. We didn’t enter the classroom at the same time. As usual, she came in after me.
As I stepped into the room, I was immediately greeted by Enzo’s voice—one of my annoying classmates, always acting slick and not hiding his crush on me.
“Yo, Eli! Buy me fries at the canteen later, yeah?” He even winked and flashed a cocky smile like he thought he was cute.
I rolled my eyes. “In your dreams.”
I tried to dodge him, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
And right on cue… Miss Camille walked in.
She strode straight toward the teacher’s table, but not before her eyes passed over us—landing right on Enzo holding my arm.
Then straight into mine with a blade-sharp stare.
Shit.
I knew that look. That quiet, deadly look. Like she was saying, “Try me again and it won’t just be your quiz grade that’ll suffer.”
I tensed up instantly.
“Let go,” I said coldly to Enzo. I shoved him lightly and sat down like nothing happened.
“You’re so mean,” he muttered, but finally shut up.
Miss Camille took her seat in front, opened her laptop, and began the class. She said nothing about what happened earlier. No emotion. Like we hadn’t just had a private confrontation full of jealousy and tension.
But me?
I still felt the blade of her glare burning into the back of my neck.
The whole class was quiet. You could only hear the tapping of her keyboard as she scrolled through her notes. And even without a word, the tension in the room was ice-cold.
Then she suddenly spoke, without even looking up from her screen:
“Miss Elise Janaya Villon.”
Oh wow. Full name? Seriously?
Shit.
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. My classmates all turned to look at me, some even smiling—especially Enzo.
“You’re dead,” he whispered gleefully.
“Ma’am?” I asked, playing innocent even though I knew I was the clear target.
“Discuss the key principles of operant conditioning and provide a real-life example. Now.”
My heart was racing. You’re a psych major, Elise, you can do this. Even if this clearly wasn’t random recitation but a subtle punishment for the “flirting” incident earlier.
I took a deep breath. Stood up.
“Operant conditioning is a learning process where behavior is shaped by consequences—either reinforcement or punishment,” I began.
“Go on,” she replied coldly, still not looking at me.
I kept going, knowing everyone was watching, especially the woman I loved.
“Positive reinforcement means adding something desirable to increase a behavior, like giving rewards. Negative reinforcement means removing something unpleasant. Punishment decreases behavior, either by presenting something unpleasant or taking away something pleasant…”
I added an example, “Like at home—if I clean my room, my mom gives me extra allowance—that’s positive reinforcement.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she finally looked at me. Not angry. But not soft either. Just the professional mask of a professor in front of her class.
“Correct. Sit down.”
I sat down immediately, feeling the sweat in my palms. I tried not to look at her. But I heard her sigh.
She wanted to say something. But not here.
Not now.
When the class ended, I felt her eyes call to me. She hadn’t looked at me during the whole lecture, but now—just a quick glance. Just enough to remind me that I was the only one she was seeing.
As I walked out of the classroom, my phone buzzed.
Text from Miss Camille:
“Meet me in the faculty room. Now.”
I glanced back at her. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Still cold. But something in her eyes—maybe worry? Or nerves? I wasn’t sure.
I checked around to make sure no one noticed, then nodded to myself and made my way toward the faculty room.
As I walked, I couldn’t help but ask myself—what now? Please don’t let it be another jealous lecture or cold shoulder.
I knocked on the door, and as I entered, she greeted me with one raised eyebrow.
I chuckled.
“Come, check these papers,” she said as I sat down in front of her. “It’s your punishment. Since you’re so flirty.”
“They’re the ones coming to me—” I started, but she gave me a sharp look. “Miss…” I continued.
“You let them get close though?” she asked.
“That’s why I pushed him away—hard.” She rolled her eyes. “Want me to show you how hard I pushed?” I asked her.
“Go ahead, and I will smash your ass,” she smirked.
“You do that every night though,” I whispered
- Writer
