Chapter 5 — The Message
786 Words
The silence after his words was so heavy Lily could barely breathe.
About who you belong with.
The sentence echoed through her chest long after Professor Hale looked away. He didn’t speak again, didn’t move, but she could feel the tension radiating off him—controlled, restrained, but unmistakably there.
She tried to focus on her notebook, but her hands were trembling too visibly to hide.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His voice was quiet, but his mood was unmistakably darker now.
“You’re shaking.”
“I'm fine,” she said, though her voice was a whisper.
He didn’t believe her. She could see it in the way his eyes narrowed slightly, trying to understand her reaction, trying to read her the way he read complex texts—carefully, deeply.
Then her phone buzzed.
The sound sliced through the quiet like a sharp knife.
She jumped a little.
He didn’t.
His gaze dropped instantly to her phone on the table.
Louis
Made it home yet? That prof guy is intense lol.
Lily’s stomach dropped.
Professor Hale didn’t touch the phone—
but he didn’t look away from it either.
His jaw tightened.
A slow breath, the kind he only took when he was trying to keep his emotions in check.
“What did he say?”
His voice was low. Too controlled.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly.
“Lily.”
Her name again—soft but undeniably stern.
“Let me see.”
“It’s private.”
Something flickered behind his eyes.
Jealousy.
Possessiveness.
Something far too raw for a man who wasn’t supposed to feel anything like that.
He reached forward before she could move the phone away.
Not roughly.
Not angrily.
Just with a certainty that made her breath catch.
He slid the phone toward himself.
Her fingers brushed his—just barely—but the contact shot through her like heat.
He read the notification on the screen.
Once.
Twice.
His expression changed slowly—tightening, darkening, something simmering right beneath the surface.
“‘Intense,’” he repeated, voice silkier than it should’ve been. “Interesting choice of word.”
“It’s a joke,” Lily whispered.
He lifted his eyes to hers.
“It’s disrespectful,” he murmured. “And he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t feel… comfortable with you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he leaned slightly closer, stopping any excuse she was about to give.
“Does he usually message you this much?”
His voice wasn’t loud.
But the quietness was worse—dangerous in how calm it sounded.
“He’s just checking if I’m okay.”
“And I’m not?” he shot back, not giving her time to think.
She swallowed hard. “You are. It’s not like that with Louis.”
He watched her carefully.
Then… slowly… he turned the phone over, screen-down on the table, his fingers brushing hers again as he did.
The gesture wasn’t harsh.
But it was final.
As if he was silently saying: Enough.
As if he didn’t want to see Louis’s name again.
“Lily,” he said quietly, “you have no idea how hard I’m trying right now.”
Her breath caught.
His gaze held her there—steady, intense, demanding an honesty she didn’t know how to contain.
“I didn’t like seeing you two together,” he admitted in a voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t expect it to bother me this much.”
Lily’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“You’re… still mad,” she said softly.
He didn’t deny it.
“Jealous,” he corrected, eyes dark, almost vulnerable beneath the anger. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”
The air between them thickened.
Then he leaned forward—ever so slightly—and his voice dropped even lower.
“I’m trying to be professional, Lily.”
A pause, his eyes burning into hers.
“But you make that very difficult.”
Her breath trembled.
The library suddenly felt too quiet, too small, too intimate with no one else around.
Before she could speak, another message buzzed on her phone.
Louis again.
This time:
Everything good? You left fast.
Professor Hale didn’t even look at the screen.
He simply placed his hand on it—calm, controlled, but unmistakably possessive—covering the phone completely under his palm.
Then he looked at her.
Not angry.
Not unkind.
But with a fire she had only ever imagined.
“Tell him you’re busy,” he said softly.
Her pulse raced.
“And what am I busy with?” she whispered.
He didn’t smile.
But something in his eyes softened, deepened, warmed.
“Me.”
- Writer
