Office Hours

Awkward Tension

Ellie was so screwed.

And not in the fun, tangled-in-the-sheets way. Nope. That was last weekend. Now, she was academically, emotionally, and professionally screwed.

Because her one-night stand? The hot, older, best-night-of-her-life guy?

Yeah. He was currently standing behind the podium, adjusting his tie like a goddamn CEO in a rom-com, introducing himself as Professor William Henson.

“Welcome to Biology Literature,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, like nothing catastrophic had happened between them. “I’ll be your instructor for this semester.”

Ellie wished she could dig a grave beneath her seat. Or spontaneously combust. Or both.

“Kill me,” she whispered to herself, clutching her notebook.

Cassie, her best friend, who conveniently didn’t know about the night, nudged her. “What’s with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I wish it was a ghost,” Ellie muttered. “It’d be less traumatizing.”

Cassie raised a brow. “Huh?”

“Nothing.” Ellie quickly looked down, hoping that by sheer willpower, she could become invisible. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Because the moment William’s eyes swept the classroom — he froze.

Like a man seeing his own sins in broad daylight. His jaw clenched so tight Ellie swore she heard his molars c***k. For a solid three seconds, his eyes locked on hers like he was experiencing nam flashbacks.

“…and, uh,” he visibly flinched, quickly clearing his throat. “Yes. Biology Literature. We’ll… dive into biopolymers. Very exciting.”

Cassie squinted. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Ellie blurted, lying. “Probably just nerves or something.”

But she wasn’t fine. She was currently having a Category 5 internal meltdown. Because William Henson — her professor, for god’s sake — was also the man who’d made her see the pearly gates less than a week ago. And he clearly realized it too.

And now? He was doing that thing. That thing men do when they’re desperately trying not to look at you but failing miserably. His gaze would flick to her every time he mentioned something like exposure, flexibility, or pressure.

Oh my god, stop using words like that.

The next forty minutes were a blur of unbearable awkwardness.

William stammered twice — once when he said “hard penetration of biopolymer films” (Ellie nearly choked) — and again when he was talking about “lasting elasticity”.

By the time class ended, Ellie bolted for the door like her life depended on it. Unfortunately, fate was a sadistic little gremlin.

“Miss Palmer.”

Ellie froze. No. Nope. Nope. She turned slowly, clutching her notebook to her chest. “Yes, Professor?”

William looked like he was seconds away from imploding. His tie was suddenly too tight, and his face was flushed. “Could you, uh… stay back for a moment?”

Cassie nudged her with a smirk. “Ooh, did you already impress him on day one?”

“Yup. Totally,” Ellie deadpanned. In bed. Naked. Great first impression.

As Cassie left, Ellie mentally braced herself for the worst. William waited until the last student filtered out before finally exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for ten years.

“What the f**k,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re my student?”

Ellie’s soul disintegrated. “Apparently.”

“Why— how— why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, sorry, it slipped my mind in between the round two and the mind-blowing o****m,” Ellie shot back sarcastically.

William paled. “Jesus Christ.”

“Trust me, I’m just as horrified as you are,” Ellie muttered. “But it’s fine. We’ll just, you know… pretend it never happened.”

William’s jaw flexed. “Ellie—”

“Nope. No. Don’t say my name like that,” she snapped. “We are strictly professor-student now. Nothing happened. Clean slate. Tabula rasa. Goodbye.”

She spun on her heel to flee.

“Ellie—”

“NOPE.”

For the next week, Ellie developed an elaborate escape plan.

Class? She sat all the way in the back. Eye contact? Non-existent. Questions? Never. She even pretended to tie her shoe if he looked in her general direction.

It was working.

Sort of.

Except William was also very bad at hiding his own awkwardness. He’d stumble over phrases like “prolonged hardness” (Ellie literally wheezed) or “external impact pressure”. Every time their eyes accidentally met, they both panicked like startled squirrels.

By Wednesday, it got worse.

“Alright, we’ll be dividing into lab partners,” William announced, his voice painfully strained. “Make sure you… uh, choose someone who… you know. Works well with you.”

Please no. Please no.

“And I’ll assign any remaining pairs.”

Ellie prayed. Begged. Offered her soul to the universe—

“…Miss Palmer.”

FUCK.

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“You’re with me.”

The entire class oohed. Ellie’s life flashed before her eyes.

“Isn’t that like, favoritism?” some guy snickered.

William’s jaw clenched. “No. It’s purely for… academic purposes.”

Yeah, sure. Just like our one-night stand was purely for stress relief.

The first lab session was hell.

“So,” Ellie muttered, awkwardly standing next to him. “This is… fun.”

William swallowed hard, refusing to look at her. “We’ll be testing tensile strength.”

Please don’t say tensile strength. Please don’t—

“…and measuring elongation capacity.”

Ellie audibly choked. “Cool. Great. Elongation.”

William visibly flinched. “…Let’s start the test.”

By the third experiment, they were both sweating. Every accidental brush of their hands sent lightning shocks down Ellie’s spine. She swore she saw William’s eye twitch every time she said the word firmness.

“So this biopolymer… it’s very firm,” Ellie said dryly.

“…Yes.”

“Like, really firm.”

“…Mhm.”

“Very… hard.”

“…Ellie.”

“Sorry, it’s just—” she burst into nervous laughter, gesturing toward the experiment. “It’s so hard. Look at it.”

William pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

It only got worse.

That night, Ellie received an email.

From: Professor William Henson

Subject: Lab Results & Office Hours

Ellie,

Your lab results were successful. However, if you have any questions, feel free to visit my office during designated hours.

Strictly professional.

Thank you,

Professor Henson

Ellie’s eye twitched. Strictly professional, her ass.

But curiosity (and poor judgment) led her to his office the next day. She knocked. “Uh… Professor?”

“Come in.”

The room felt ten degrees hotter the moment she entered. William looked like he aged twenty years overnight. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie was loosened, and his don’t-f**k-me energy was blaring.

“You needed clarification?” he asked tightly.

“…On biopolymers. Yes.”

A long, tense silence.

“Ellie, we need to talk.”

“Oh no.”

William exhaled harshly. “This is unprofessional. We need boundaries.”

“Agreed.”

“Absolutely no touching.”

“Of course.”

“And no thinking about that night.”

“…Right.”

A beat.

“…Are you thinking about it?” Ellie asked.

“…Yes.”

“Same.”

Another painful silence.

“Okay, I’m leaving now,” Ellie announced.

“Good idea.”

She didn’t even make it three steps before he blurted, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Ellie slammed the door. She was not going to deal with this today! Nope.