Tease Me, Sir [Completed]

Chapter 4: Breaking Point

A week passed.

A week of lectures, assignments, and routine. A week of stolen glances, of footsteps echoing in the hallways, of fleeting moments that never turned into something more.

Maxine told herself this was how it should be.

She sat in her usual spot in Noah Castellano's lecture, notebook open, pen in hand. Her eyes stayed on the board, never straying. He spoke, his voice steady, composed, never wavering—but never directed at her. Just another professor teaching just another student.

She played her part well.

When class ended, she packed up quickly, blending into the crowd, disappearing before anyone could stop her. It was easy. If she didn't look at him, if she didn't acknowledge the strange pull between them, maybe it would fade into nothing. Maybe she could forget.

But forgetting was hard when she still felt him.

Not in words, not in touch—just in presence. In the way their paths kept crossing, even when they weren't supposed to.

Passing in the hallways.A glimpse of him in the faculty lounge as she walked by.A brief moment in the library when she turned a corner and saw him standing there, his back to her.

It was a quiet war she waged against herself. A battle of distance.

She ignored the subtle tension in her chest whenever their shoulders nearly brushed in passing. She didn't let herself wonder if he noticed her the way she still noticed him. And most of all, she never spoke about him.

Not to Ashley.Not to anyone.Not even to herself.

Because he had told her to move on.

Because she refused to be the woman who still ached for someone who had already told her to forget.

Because her pride wouldn't let her be that weak.

So Maxine kept her head high, her distance firm, and let Noah Castellano become nothing more than a shadow in her periphery. Even if, deep down, she knew she wasn't fooling herself at all.

The days blurred into a quiet, relentless routine.

For the first time in a long while, Maxine felt like she had control again. It wasn't easy, but she made it a habit—waking up early, attending her classes, surrounding herself with Ashley and their friends, filling every empty space with distractions. It was the only way to silence the thoughts that crept in when she was alone.

And most of all, she avoided him.

Noah Castellano was nothing more than a figure in the background now—just another professor she had to listen to, just another presence she refused to acknowledge. The past week had been a test of willpower, but she endured it.

She never met his eyes.She never lingered when he spoke.She never let herself break.

Even when she could feel the weight of his gaze from across the room. Even when his voice dipped lower as he lectured, his presence drawing too close as he paced past her desk.

None of it mattered.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Yet, beneath the surface, something festered—something raw and unresolved, pressing against the walls she had so carefully built. The silence between them wasn't peace. It was tension stretched thin, fragile, waiting for the moment it would finally snap.

And today, it did.

It started as a normal class, just like the others.

The lecture hall was filled with the usual rustle of papers, the steady scratching of pens against notebooks, the occasional murmur of students shifting in their seats. Noah stood at the front, as composed as ever, his voice measured as he spoke about today's topic.

Maxine sat near the middle, just far enough to blend in, just close enough to listen. She kept her eyes down, focusing on her notes, determined to ignore the occasional flicker of movement in her periphery—the way he paced, the way his gaze swept the room, the way she could feel him watching.

But then the class ended, and like every other day, she packed her things quickly, ready to leave before he could get too close.

She nearly made it.

"Maxine."

The sound of her name, spoken in that low, unreadable tone, stopped her in her tracks.

Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. She inhaled quietly, calming the sudden tension creeping up her spine before she turned around.

He stood by his desk, expression unreadable, gaze steady.

A long pause.

"Yes, sir?" she finally said, her voice even.

Noah's jaw tensed at the word.

"Stay for a moment," he said. "I need to discuss something regarding your recent paper."

She knew it was an excuse. A flimsy one, at best.

But still, she nodded. "Of course."

The last of the students filed out, the door clicking shut behind them. Silence settled in the empty room, stretching thick between them.

Maxine stood by her desk, arms crossed, waiting.

Noah leaned back against his own desk, watching her for a long moment before speaking.

"Are you just going to keep pretending I don't exist?"

The question hit like a direct blow, even though his tone was controlled.

Her expression didn't change. "I'm not pretending anything."

"Really?" He tilted his head slightly. "Because it sure as hell feels like you are."

She let out a breath, shaking her head. "I don't know what you want from me, Noah. I'm doing exactly what you told me to do—moving on. So why does it bother you so much?"

Something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable. He pushed off the desk, taking a step closer.

"It doesn't bother me," he said, too casually. "I just find it interesting."

"Interesting?"

"That you're trying so hard."

Her fingers curled into her sleeves, but she didn't back down. "Trying hard to do what?"

"To pretend this—" he gestured vaguely between them "—is nothing."

Maxine swallowed, keeping her expression carefully neutral. "It is nothing."

A lie.

They both knew it.

Noah let out a quiet scoff, running a hand through his hair, looking at her like she was the most frustrating thing in the world.

"You really don't feel anything?" he asked, voice softer now, laced with something heavier.

She hesitated for half a second—half a second too long.

And he caught it.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, the air between them charged with unspoken words, unresolved tension, and the quiet, maddening ache of something neither of them had the courage to name.

She wanted to say something.She wanted to turn and leave.She wanted to end this conversation before it unraveled something she wasn't ready to face.

But all she could do was stand there, heart hammering, caught in the storm of his gaze.

The air between them crackled like a storm on the verge of breaking.

Noah's eyes locked onto hers, unwavering, heavy with something that made it hard to breathe. The silence wasn't empty—it was filled with everything they weren't saying, everything they had buried beneath carefully crafted walls.

Maxine forced herself to stand her ground. She refused to let her body betray her, to let the memories claw their way back in. He didn't deserve that power over her anymore.

"You're wasting your time, Noah," she said, voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "There's nothing to talk about."

His jaw ticked. "You think ignoring me is going to make it go away?"

She clenched her fists at her sides. "It already has."

A sharp, humorless laugh left his lips. He took another step closer—not enough to touch, but enough that she could feel his presence like a gravitational force, pulling her in despite everything.

"You're lying," he murmured.

Maxine's breath hitched.

Because he was right.

But she wasn't going to admit it.

She lifted her chin, forcing herself to look unaffected. "Believe what you want," she said. "But I meant what I said. I'm moving on. Like you told me to."

Something in his gaze darkened.

"Right," he said, voice low, unreadable. "Moving on."

He took another step, closing the space between them just enough that her pulse spiked. His cologne lingered in the air—subtle, familiar, intoxicating in a way that made her hate herself.

Maxine tensed, every muscle in her body screaming for distance, for control.

She wouldn't let him do this to her.

"You need to stop," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Stop what?"

"This." She gestured vaguely between them, her voice sharper now. "Whatever game you think you're playing. Whatever reaction you're trying to get out of me."

Noah's lips pressed into a thin line, something dangerous flickering in his expression.

"You think this is a game?" he asked, voice quieter now—quieter, but heavier.

She forced out a dry laugh. "Isn't it?"

His hand twitched at his side. For a moment, it looked like he might reach for her—but he didn't.

"You don't get it, do you?" he said, voice rough, like he was holding something back.

"Get what?" she shot back, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "That you want to prove something? That you hate the fact that I actually listened to you and walked away?"

His expression hardened. "That's not—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face, like he was trying to pull himself together. "Damn it, Maxine."

She flinched.

Because she wasn't used to hearing her name like that from him anymore—like it meant something.

Like she still meant something.

Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs, but she forced herself to stay cold. Detached.

She took a slow step back, putting the space between them again. "I don't care what you're trying to do," she said, steady. "But I won't let you mess with my life again. I'm not her anymore, Noah."

His gaze flickered, something shifting in his expression—something that looked dangerously close to regret.

"I never wanted to mess with your life," he said, voice quieter now.

"Well, you did."

The words landed like a blow, sharp and unforgiving.

Noah exhaled, his hands clenching into fists before he forced them to relax. He didn't deny it. Didn't argue.

But standing this close to her, feeling the heat of her body just inches from his own, his control was slipping.

His body was tight, rigid, every muscle locked as if restraining himself from something reckless. The scent of her hair, the faint, lingering warmth between them—it was suffocating. Dangerous.

His fingers twitched at his side, aching to close the distance. To grip her wrist, pull her back, make her look at him properly.

But he couldn't.

If he did, he might not stop.

His pulse hammered, frustration mounting at how easily she could walk away—at how she could pretend none of this affected her, while he stood there battling an onslaught of emotions he had no right to feel.

His breathing was slow, controlled—but inside, he was anything but.

Noah Castellano had spent years perfecting restraint. But right now, standing this close to Maxine, it felt like a fuse had been lit.

And she had no idea.

Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, his entire body rigid with barely-contained frustration.

She thought she was the only one struggling.

She had no idea how much worse it was for him.

The room was suffocating.

Silent, empty, yet filled with the weight of something dangerous.

Maxine stood near the desk, her back stiff, every muscle coiled with tension. She was supposed to leave—she knew that. She should have walked out the second she realized she was alone with him.

But she hadn't.

And now, she could feel it—the heat in the air, the intensity of his presence behind her. Noah hadn't moved, but she knew he was there, watching her, his silence louder than words.

He was losing his patience. She could feel it.

She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. It was darker now, sharper. His expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were anything but.

"Are you going to keep standing there?" she asked, her voice coming out colder than she expected.

Noah exhaled, slow and measured, like he was holding something back. "You're the one who's still here," he muttered.

Maxine clenched her jaw.

This was stupid.

This was reckless.

But before she could take another step, Noah moved.

In one smooth motion, he closed the space between them, faster than she could react. His hand shot out, gripping the edge of the desk behind her, caging her in.

Maxine's breath caught.

Too close.

Too much.

Her back pressed against the desk, her hands instinctively coming up to push against his chest—but the second her palms touched the solid warmth of him, her entire body betrayed her.

Noah's breathing was ragged now, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing against the wood as if restraining himself.

"Are you leaving or not?," he murmured.

His voice was low, controlled—but there was an edge to it, something raw, something dangerous.

Maxine swallowed hard.

She should.

She should.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Noah's eyes darkened at her silence. His hand lifted slightly, hovering just near her waist—but he didn't touch her.

His restraint was slipping.

And he knew it.

"Damn it, Maxine," he muttered, his voice rough. His head dipped lower, his breath ghosting against her temple, his presence overwhelming. "I told myself I wouldn't—"

She shoved him.

Hard.

Noah staggered back, his eyes widening—not in anger, but in sudden, jolting realization.

The air between them snapped, the weight of his actions crashing down like a cold wave.

His breathing was uneven. His fists clenched at his sides. His entire body was rigid, tense, like he was forcing himself to step back, to regain control.

Maxine's chest rose and fell sharply, her hands still trembling from the force of pushing him away.

"You—" Her voice wavered, anger and something else—something raw—laced in it. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Noah looked at her.

Not with regret. Not with anger.

But with something dangerously close to fear.

Not of her.

Of himself.

His gaze dropped to his own hands, his breathing still unsteady, the weight of what had just happened sinking in.

"I—" He clenched his jaw, swallowing whatever words were about to follow.

Noah Castellano was always in control. Always composed. Always untouchable.

But just now—just for a moment—he hadn't been.

And it terrified him.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, the door shutting behind him with a quiet finality.

Leaving Maxine alone in the room, heart pounding, breath shaky, and mind reeling from the chaos he left in his wake.