When you’re cornered
1928 Words
Juniper’s POV
Professor Hale’s office door loomed like it already knew I was one bad decision away from unraveling.
I knocked once, twice. My knuckles stung.
“Come in.”
His voice carried that eerie tone professors save for students they’re about to dismantle.
I pushed the door open slowly, adjusting my bag strap like it could armor me against the inevitable. The room smelled of old paper and strong coffee, the kind of scent that promised no mercy.
Professor Hale didn’t glance up right away. He shuffled through a stack of graded exams, his pen tapping an impatient rhythm against the scarred wooden desk.
Each tap ratcheted my nerves tighter. Finally, he looked at me, eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“Close the door, Miss Hayes.”
The soft click echoed like a jail cell locking. The walls seemed to press in, charged. I hovered, unsure if I should sit or stand there like the guilty party I was.
“Sit.”
I dropped into the chair so fast my knees cracked. Back ramrod straight, hands folded in my lap, I tried to project the image of a girl who had her life together. It was a lie, and we both knew it.
He slid my test across the desk without ceremony. The red ink screamed at me, circles, slashes, a giant D slashed across the top like a verdict. My stomach plummeted.
“Would you like to explain this?” His tone stayed even, but disappointment laced every syllable.
I leaned forward, as if staring at the mess might rewrite it. It didn’t.
“I… had a rough weekend, sir.”
His eyebrows climbed a fraction. “Did the material magically change over the weekend?”
“No, sir.”
“Then your personal circumstances are irrelevant.”
He tapped the paper once with his pen, the sound sharp as a slap.
“You’re capable of far better than this, Miss Hayes. Don’t insult both of us by pretending otherwise.”
The words landed harder because he wasn’t yelling, just disappointed.
“I know,” I whispered, throat tight. “It won’t happen again.”
He leaned back, studying me like a specimen under glass. The silence stretched, heavy and probing.
“You’ve been distracted lately. That’s becoming a pattern.”
My stomach bottomed out.
“That’s not my concern,” he continued, voice flat. “What is my concern is that you don’t let whatever drama is derailing you tank your performance again. Fix it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He paused, then slid a fresh sheet across the desk. My name sat at the top in neat print. Right beside it, in bold letters that felt like a curse: Tristan Hale.
My jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Sir, I really think—”
“No.” He cut me off before I could finish, eyes boring into mine.
“I assigned partners deliberately. You will work together. You will present together. I expect work that reflects both your capabilities, not your personal feelings. Getting along is not a requirement.”
I almost laughed, the sound bitter in my throat. Tristan and I had never gotten along. He’d been a shadow in my life since we were kids—annoying, cocky, never friendly.
The thought of being chained to him for an entire project made my skin crawl with equal parts dread and something hotter I refused to name.
“Understood,” I forced out.
“You’re dismissed.”
I snatched my bag and fled, pulse thundering as I yanked the door open. The hallway air hit me like freedom—until it wasn’t.
Tristan leaned against the wall directly opposite, arms crossed over his broad chest, one booted foot propped casually behind him. His dark hair fell slightly over eyes that tracked me like a predator who’d already won the hunt.
He looked every bit the arrogant asshole I’d spent years avoiding, yet the sight of him sent an unwelcome jolt through me. Like he’d been waiting there the whole time, timing my humiliation perfectly.
“You’ve got to be f*****g kidding me,” I muttered, slamming the professor’s door harder than necessary. The bang echoed down the empty corridor.
He pushed off the wall with intentional slowness, unfolding to his full height. The movement pulled his black shirt tight across his shoulders, revealing the lean muscle underneath. A smirk tugged at his lips, cold and knowing.
“I usually am kidding. Not today, though. Not with you.”
My grip tightened on the strap of my bag until the leather bit into my palm.
“Were you listening in there? That’s low, even for you.”
He shrugged, the motion lazy and unapologetic.
“You weren’t exactly whispering your excuses. Rough weekend, huh? Let me guess—Mabel and Nolan going at it again like animals, and you playing the pathetic third wheel who pretends it doesn’t gut you.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, a toxic mix of embarrassment and rage.
“That’s none of your business. And it was a closed door, Tristan. How the hell did you even hear?”
“Doors aren’t that reliable when you’re pressed up against them.”
His gaze dropped slowly to where my arms crossed defensively over my chest, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle, then crawled back up to my face.
“Project. That’s why I’m here.”
I blinked, thrown by the blunt shift. “You came early just to ambush me about the project?”
“I came because I knew you’d crawl out of there looking like a kicked puppy.”
His voice stayed cool, edged with that drawl that made my blood boil. He stepped closer, invading my space without touching me, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne, something sharp and expensive that screamed trouble.
“You’ve been dodging me in class all week. Predictable as always, Juniper. Hiding behind your notes while you steal glances at my brother like he’s going to magically wake up and choose the invisible girl over his favorite disaster.”
My stomach twisted.
“You were watching me during the test? That’s creepy as hell.”
“Yeah.” No denial, no shame. Just that flat admission, like it was his right. His eyes, dark, unreadable held mine with an intensity that made the hallway feel ten degrees hotter.
“You were struggling. Hands shaking. Eyes glazing over every time you thought about them. Sad, really.”
“f**k you, Tristan.”
The words flew out before I could stop them, bold and venomous. My hands balled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
His smirk exploded into something sharper, more dangerous. A low, amused chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned in, voice dropping to a rough, intimate growl that sent unwanted heat spiraling down my spine.
“There it is. Where’s that middle finger at? You were bold a few hours ago—don’t go soft on me now, Juniper. Come on, show me that fire. Or does it only come out when you’re hiding behind a door?”
His words hit me like a live wire. He enjoyed this. We didn’t get along, we never had. Yet here he was, bullying me with words that felt too intimate, too hot, like he got off on watching me squirm.
“You think you know me?” I snapped, stepping forward instead of back, chin lifted in defiance even as my heart hammered wildly.
“You don’t know s**t. You’re just Nolan’s shadow twin who gets off on pushing people around because you can’t stand that he’s the one everyone actually wants.”
His expression didn’t change. But something unpredictable flashed in his eyes. amusement mixed with a darker hunger.
“Oh, I know enough. You’re sad because my brother doesn’t want to choose you. He keeps crawling back to Mabel’s chaos every time she snaps her fingers, leaving you standing here like yesterday’s leftovers. Pathetic, waiting years for scraps when you could choose yourself. Look at what’s right in front of you instead of pining after someone who never saw you in the first place.”
The words sliced deep, but the way he said them, low, commanding, laced with that heat—made my thighs clench involuntarily. He wasn’t offering kindness.
He was challenging me, pushing every button like he enjoyed the drama, the fight, the way my anger made my cheeks flush and my breath come faster.
“Choose myself?” I laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls.
“And what, choose you? The guy who’s tormented me since we were kids? You’re unbelievable. Dumb, stupid, and apparently delusional if you think I’d ever—”
“Delusional?”
He cut me off with a step that nearly pinned me against the wall, though he still didn’t touch me. The nearness was worse. His breath ghosted across my cheek, voice like a blade.
“I’m the one telling you the truth your precious Nolan never will. Stop being a sad little shadow. You want bold? Be bold. Tell me to f**k off like you mean it. Or admit that part of you likes when I push, because at least I see you. At least I don’t pretend you’re invisible.”
My pulse roared in my ears. The hallway felt electric, every second stretching into something maddeningly hot and dangerous.
“I hate you,” I whispered, but my voice cracked with something that wasn’t entirely hate.
His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile.
“Good. Hate keeps it interesting. Library tomorrow. Seven sharp. Don’t be late, or I’ll come find you myself. And trust me, you won’t like how I do it.”
I swallowed hard, the threat landing somewhere between terrifying and thrilling.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re still going to show up.” He straightened slightly, but his gaze stayed locked on mine, heavy with challenge.
“Try not to spend the night fantasizing about my brother while you’re supposed to be working with me. Or do. The jealousy might make you finally grow a spine.”
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to shove him away. But mostly, I wanted to prove him wrong in the most reckless way possible.
“Fine,” I bit out, turning on my heel before he could see how badly he’d gotten under my skin.
My legs felt unsteady as I walked down the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like they were in on the joke.
“Juniper.”
His voice stopped me cold, lower now, rougher. I didn’t turn around, but I felt him closing the distance again, that unpredictable energy licking at my back.
“What?”
“Next time you want to tell me to f**k off?”
The words brushed against my ear even though he wasn’t touching me.
“Say it like you mean it. Don’t hesitate. I like it when you fight back. Makes this whole thing a lot hotter.”
My chest tightened, a storm of anger, unwanted desire, and years of pent-up frustration swirling inside me.
I walked away without another word, his stare burning holes through my spine the entire length of the corridor. The echo of my footsteps felt too loud, too final.
For the first time, escaping didn’t feel like the safe choice. It felt like running from something I might be stupid enough to chase.
- Writer
