Chapter 4 — Jealousy in the Quiet
902 Words
The next morning, the campus felt unusually calm. No classes today—just a free day for students to catch up on work. Lily headed straight for the library, the one place where her thoughts felt a little clearer… even if they still drifted toward one person far too often.
When she stepped inside, she didn’t expect to see Louis already waving her over.
He grinned as she approached.
“Lily! I saved you a seat.”
Louis.
Her friend since first semester.
Loud, sweet, always smiling.
Completely harmless.
They settled into a corner table, textbooks spread out, highlighters scattered everywhere. Louis was in his animated mood today—dramatic sighs, playful jokes, whispering about how tired he was of exams even though exams were still weeks away.
Lily found herself laughing more than studying.
She didn’t notice the shift in the air until Louis suddenly stopped talking mid-sentence.
“Uh… Lily?”
She followed his gaze—and her heart almost dropped out of her chest.
Professor Hale was standing a few feet away.
Casual clothes again.
One hand in his pocket.
A book in the other.
But his eyes weren’t casual at all.
They were fixed on her.
Then on Louis.
Then back on her again.
Like he’d walked in expecting one thing—and definitely wasn’t expecting this.
“Good afternoon,” he said, voice calm, too calm.
“Professor Hale,” Lily whispered.
Louis sat up straighter, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—hello, sir.”
Professor Hale nodded politely, but the tightness in his jaw gave him away. Something flickered in his eyes, something sharp and assessing. Something he didn’t quite hide fast enough.
He stepped closer to their table.
“You two are studying together?”
His tone was even, but the way he said it…
Lily felt heat rush to her face.
“Yeah,” Louis said quickly. “We’re reviewing last week’s lecture.”
Professor Hale’s eyes moved to Lily again—slower this time, lingering a moment longer than he should have.
“I see.”
He pulled out a chair.
Not beside Louis.
Not at an empty table nearby.
He sat next to Lily.
Her breath caught. Louis’s eyes widened.
Professor Hale opened his book—but his posture was all wrong for reading. He sat too straight, shoulders tense, jaw set like he was controlling something. Every once in a while, he glanced up at Louis, then shifted slightly closer to Lily.
Not touching her.
Not too close.
Just close enough to remind Louis exactly who he was.
The atmosphere changed.
Louis felt it first—he became quieter, more awkward, fidgeting with his notebook. The once-loud chatter faded into nervous silence. Professor Hale, on the other hand, barely spoke at all. But Lily felt him.
Felt the jealousy radiating off him in subtle waves.
Felt the weight of his stare when Louis wasn’t looking.
Felt the way his presence completely swallowed the table.
After almost thirty minutes, Louis closed his book suddenly.
“Um—Lily, I should go grab lunch. I’ll text you later, okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
He shot her a small smile, then glanced at Professor Hale—quick, uneasy—before hurrying away.
The moment he was out of sight, the entire energy shifted.
The silence was heavier.
Warmer.
Charged.
Professor Hale didn’t pretend to read anymore.
He turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on her in a way that made her speech catch in her throat.
“You spend a lot of time with him,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a question.
It wasn’t casual.
It was almost… careful.
As if he was trying to keep something sharp out of his tone.
“He’s just a friend,” Lily said softly.
His jaw flexed, just once.
“Just a friend,” he repeated, as if testing the words, tasting them, weighing how true they were.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He didn’t look away.
If anything, he looked at her harder.
“I wasn’t aware you two were that close.”
His voice was calm, but she could hear the edge beneath it—jealousy mixed with something else he was trying to hide.
“We’re not that close,” she whispered.
His eyes lowered to her mouth for a brief, warm second.
Then he leaned in—not too much, not inappropriate, but enough for her to feel the heat of him, enough for her breath to catch.
“Good,” he murmured.
Her heartbeat thudded painfully against her ribs.
He paused, searching her face, as if deciding whether he had already said too much. As if part of him wanted to pull back… and the other part refused to.
Then, softer:
“I don’t like being… mistaken about things.”
She shivered.
“About what things?”
His gaze met hers—slow, intense, impossible to look away from.
“About who you belong with.”
The air froze.
Before she could speak, before she could breathe, he leaned back just enough to steady himself. His expression softened—as if he realized the line he was brushing against.
But the words were already out there.
The jealousy was already exposed.
And Lily knew—without him saying another word—that this wasn’t a misunderstanding.
Something had shifted.
Something he couldn’t hide anymore.
- Writer
