THE PROFESSOR I SHOULDN'T WANT

Public Encounters

Aria told herself she would sit further back this time.

She didn’t.

Not because she changed her mind, but because she arrived later than usual and the only available seats were clustered in the middle rows. That was the excuse she allowed herself, even though it didn’t fully feel like one. She slid into a seat, placed her notebook down, and kept her eyes forward as more students filled the lecture hall around her.

The room slowly built its usual atmosphere, low conversations fading into silence as everyone settled. Aria focused on opening her notebook, adjusting the pen in her hand, letting herself fall into the familiar rhythm of academic routine. It was easier when she stayed inside structure. Structure didn’t ask questions. Structure didn’t shift unexpectedly.

Then the room changed again.

Not dramatically. Not loudly.

Just that same quiet adjustment in attention.

Professor Vale entered.

Aria didn’t look immediately. She didn’t need to. The awareness of him entering was enough. His presence always seemed to register before he even fully reached the front of the room, like the space reacted before people consciously did.

When she did look up briefly, it was only for a second.

He was already at the desk, arranging his materials. Same composure. Same control. Same precise movements that didn’t waste anything. He looked exactly like he always did.

That should have helped.

It didn’t.

The lecture began as usual, structured and steady. Aria wrote notes for the first few minutes without issue, letting her attention lock onto the content being delivered. But gradually, she became aware of something she didn’t want to acknowledge too directly.

His movement across the room wasn’t random. It rarely was.

He didn’t stay rooted at the front like most lecturers. He moved while speaking, slowly pacing between sections of the space, occasionally stepping closer to different sides of the room as he emphasized points.

And somehow, without it being obvious enough to question, his movement kept bringing him closer to where she was seated.

It wasn’t constant.

It wasn’t direct.

But it was noticeable.

Aria adjusted her focus back to her notes, trying to ignore it. She told herself it didn’t matter where he stood. He was a lecturer. He moved. That was normal.

But then he stopped near her side of the room.

Not directly in front of her.

Just close enough that his voice felt slightly nearer than before.

“Consider the structure of the argument here,” he said, eyes scanning the room before briefly landing in her direction as if by coincidence.

Aria didn’t look up immediately. She kept writing, even though her attention had shifted slightly off the page.

Then—

“Miss Bennett.”

Her hand paused.

She looked up.

“Yes?”

“Expand on the point I made earlier.”

She answered, steady, controlled, just like always. Her voice didn’t shake. Her explanation was clear. When she finished, there was a short silence before he gave a simple acknowledgment and continued the lecture.

But he didn’t move away right after.

He stayed on that side of the room longer than necessary.

Not directly in front of her.

Just… near.

Close enough that she became aware of it again and again without being able to fully ignore it.

By the time the lecture ended, Aria had stopped pretending it didn’t affect her.

Students began packing up slowly, chairs shifting, conversations restarting. She gathered her things at a normal pace, refusing to rush, refusing to linger too obviously. When she stood, she blended into the movement of the room, following the natural flow of people heading toward the exit.

She didn’t expect him to speak to her again.

But just as she reached the aisle—

“Miss Bennett.”

She stopped.

Turned slightly.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Walk with me.”

It wasn’t loud enough to draw attention, but it was enough to change her immediate direction. A few students passed by without reacting. The instruction sounded normal on the surface. Academic. Reasonable.

So she nodded once.

“Okay.”

And fell into step a short distance behind him as he moved out of the lecture hall.

The corridor outside was narrower than the room had felt. Quieter too, with only occasional movement from students heading in different directions. Vale walked ahead without turning back to check if she was following, but she didn’t fall behind either. The distance between them stayed consistent, controlled, and somehow more noticeable than it should have been.

They moved through the building like that, passing other students, lecturers, brief clusters of conversation. On the surface, nothing about it looked unusual. A professor and a student walking through campus corridors wasn’t strange.

But Aria was aware of how close he was in a way she didn’t understand how to turn off.

Not physically close in an obvious sense.

Just… present in a space that kept narrowing whenever she became aware of it.

At one point, the corridor became slightly tighter as they passed through a doorway section where students were coming in the opposite direction. Without fully thinking about it, Aria shifted slightly to avoid bumping into someone.

And in doing so, she ended up closer to him than she had been before.

Not touching.

But close enough that the distance changed.

She noticed it immediately.

So did he.

But neither of them adjusted it.

That was the part that stayed with her.

They stopped near a quieter section of the building, away from the main flow of students. Vale finally turned slightly, not fully facing her yet, as if taking a moment before speaking.

“You’ve been consistent in your work,” he said.

Aria nodded lightly. “Yes.”

A pause.

Then—

“Good,” he added.

Simple. Controlled. Nothing unusual.

And yet the space between them didn’t feel like it had reset from the walk.

Aria adjusted her bag strap slightly, shifting her weight.

“If that’s all,” she said.

He didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, his gaze stayed on her a moment longer than necessary.

Not intense.

Not obvious.

Just present.

Then—

“You’re overthinking,” he said.

That made her pause slightly.

“I’m not,” she replied automatically.

A brief silence followed.

Then—

“You are,” he repeated.

Calm.

Certain.

Not argumentative.

Just stating it like fact.

Aria frowned slightly, then exhaled through her nose.

“I’m just focusing,” she said.

A small pause.

Then his tone softened just slightly, though his expression didn’t change.

“Then focus properly.”

That should have ended it.

It didn’t.

Because neither of them moved right away.

The hallway around them stayed active in the background, students passing at intervals, distant voices echoing slightly, but the space they occupied felt separate from it in a subtle way neither of them acknowledged.

Aria shifted her stance again.

“I should go,” she said.

He nodded once.

But didn’t step away immediately.

Neither did she.

That was becoming the pattern now.

Moments that ended without actually ending.

Then, finally, he spoke again.

“Aria.”

Her name again.

Not formal this time.

Not professional.

Just her.

She looked up.

“Yes?”

A pause.

Long enough that it could have meant nothing.

Or something.

Then—

“Don’t sit further back next time,” he said.

Aria didn’t respond immediately.

Then she nodded slightly.

“Okay.”

And this time, she walked away first.

But even as she did, she was aware of something simple and uncomfortable.

The distance between them was no longer just physical.

It was starting to exist even when they weren’t in the same room.

And that was worse than proximity.

That was memory.