Craving my Professor

Chapter 4 — The Private Tutorial

Aria stared at her laptop screen as if it had suddenly become a portal to another world. The email from Professor Cassian Draven sat there, glowing innocently in her inbox, yet it carried a weight that made her heart hammer in her chest.

Subject: Private Tutorial — Miss Vale.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she hovered over the message, the cursor hovering between “Reply” and “Delete.” Private tutorial. The words were clinical, professional, but the implication was magnetic, almost dangerous. She wasn’t supposed to want it. She shouldn’t want it. But she did.

A soft knock on her dorm door startled her from her thoughts. “Aria?” Harper’s voice floated through.

“Come in,” Aria called, quickly minimizing the email. Harper Quinn, her best friend and confidante since first year, stepped inside, her expression immediately skeptical. Harper had a sharp eye for detecting things that were off, things like obsession disguised as academic curiosity.

“You look like you’ve just uncovered a government secret,” Harper said, plopping down onto the arm of Aria’s chair. She leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What’s got you so… twitchy?”

Aria hesitated, blinking at Harper as if weighing whether to confess. She could almost see the teasing glint forming in her friend’s gaze. “Nothing,” she said finally, forcing a casual tone.

Harper raised a brow. “Nothing? You’ve been staring at that laptop for an hour, muttering about… control and risk and some mysterious man with the face of a Greek statue.”

Aria felt her cheeks heat, but Harper’s voice didn’t relent. “Ooooh, let me guess… the professor?”

Aria groaned. “Harper, it’s nothing like that.”

Harper smirked, clearly delighted. “Nothing like that? Honey, you’ve been obsessively tracking every lecture, every comment, every—” She paused dramatically. “—flaw in his critique. You’ve got it bad.”

“I’m not obsessed!” Aria said, though her voice betrayed the tiniest tremor. She avoided Harper’s sharp gaze, focusing on a stack of notes. “I’m… just… curious. About his work.”

Harper tilted her head, unimpressed. “Curious, right. I saw the way you froze when he called your name today, and don’t even get me started on how you scribbled notes during his lecture like your life depended on it.”

Aria clenched her jaw. “It’s important. His opinion matters.”

“Your opinion matters too,” Harper said pointedly, nudging her shoulder.

“But you’ve got this… fire, Aria. And it’s fixating on Draven. I don’t know if that’s smart. That man could cut you down without even realizing it.”

Her words stung, but Aria didn’t want to admit it. Harper had a way of being brutally honest in a way no one else could. It was exactly why she had to tell Harper everything, eventually.

The next afternoon, Aria found herself standing outside Draven’s office again, clutching her revised essay like a talisman. She had rehearsed every possible scenario in her head, every tone, every phrase, every question. And yet, her pulse was a drumline against her ribs as she knocked.

“Enter,” came his familiar voice.

Stepping inside, she felt the air shift. The office smelled faintly of cedar and old books, a scent that seemed to wrap around her senses. Draven was seated at his desk, reviewing a set of student papers, but his head tilted slightly when he noticed her, eyes narrowing in that way that always made her pulse leap.

“Miss Vale,” he said, his tone clipped but not unfriendly. “Sit.”

Aria perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, her essay resting between them. There was a closeness here, a quiet intimacy in the enclosed space, that made every sound, the soft rustle of papers, the faint scratch of his pen — feel amplified.

He picked up her essay and began flipping through the pages. Aria held her breath, watching him. The way his eyes scanned the text was almost predatory, careful, calculating. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Something in her chest tightened with anticipation.

“Better,” he said finally, lips barely moving. “You’ve absorbed the corrections, but you still skirt the edges. You understand the theory, but not the courage behind it.”

“Courage?” she asked softly, leaning forward.

“To risk your intellect without shielding it behind decorum,” he explained, voice low. His gaze flicked to her for just a second too long, and she felt herself caught in that magnetic pull again. “Most students want approval. You… you want understanding.”

Her breath hitched slightly. She shouldn’t have heard that as praise, but the way he said it—deliberate, measured, but heavy with something unspoken sent a thrill down her spine.

“And are you… pleased with my understanding?” she asked, her tone light, teasing, though her pulse hammered in her ears.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back slightly, fingers steepled, eyes darkening with thought.

“Pleased?” he echoed. “That’s not my concern. I want challenge, not flattery. You’re learning to read between lines, yes, but sometimes… I wonder if you’re willing to confront what stares back at you.”

Aria shivered, not from the air in the room, but from the intensity of his stare. There was something thrillingly dangerous about the way he held his composure, the way he measured words like blades. And somehow, she wanted to push him further.

She took a breath and asked softly, “And what does it stare back at you?”

For a moment, the office was silent. Then he leaned forward slightly, and the subtle shift brought their eyes level. His voice was lower now, almost intimate:

“Potential,” he murmured. “Potential… and defiance. A dangerous combination.”

The heat in her chest surged. She wanted to argue, to clarify, to pull away, yet every instinct screamed to lean in, to see just how far this tension could go.

Later that evening, Aria met Harper at their usual café. Harper’s eyes went immediately to the glow on her face, the restless energy in her movements.

“You’re worse than I thought,” Harper said, sliding across the table and grabbing Aria’s hand. “This isn’t just curiosity, is it? You’re… obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Aria said defensively, though her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “I just… he fascinates me.”

Harper laughed softly. “Fascination or desire? Because there’s a difference, and honey, you’re teetering dangerously close to the second.”

Aria’s ears warmed. “He’s my professor,” she reminded her, though her voice wavered.

“Exactly,” Harper said with a wicked grin. “That’s what makes it so deliciously dangerous. And you love that, admit it.”

Aria bit her lip, unable to deny it. Harper always saw through her façades, and the truth was undeniable. She did love it—the chase, the risk, the forbidden thrill.

Harper leaned in, eyes glinting. “So, this private tutorial, are you planning to swoon in front of him, or are you going to actually learn something?”

Aria laughed, but it was half-nervous. “I’m not sure anymore,” she admitted. “Part of me… wants both.”

Harper raised a brow. “Careful, Ari. You’re playing with fire. And trust me, you’re standing way too close to the flame.”

The next day, Aria returned to Draven’s office for the private tutorial. The air inside was charged as she closed the door behind her. Every step closer to his desk made her pulse accelerate. He didn’t offer a welcoming smile, didn’t ease her in, but somehow, that tension made it almost unbearable.

He motioned to a chair across from him. “Sit,” he said, voice low, deliberate.

Aria obeyed, trying to steady her breathing. Every subtle movement—the way he brushed his fingers across the edge of her essay, the faint tilt of his head drew her attention like a magnet. The room felt smaller, warmer, tighter.

“Tell me what you want from this,” he said, eyes locking with hers.

Her lips parted slightly. “To… understand,” she whispered.

“Understand,” he repeated, the word carrying an undertone of something else entirely. “Or to challenge me?”

Her stomach fluttered. “Both.”

For the briefest second, his controlled exterior faltered. His eyes darkened just slightly, just enough to make her shiver.

Then the phone on his desk buzzed, breaking the spell. He glanced at it, muttered a sharp word, and looked back.

“I will see you in class tomorrow,” he said, standing.

Aria rose as well, heart hammering, aware of how charged every inch of proximity had felt.

As she stepped toward the door, she heard Harper’s teasing voice echoing in her memory: “you’re standing way too close to the flame”.

And for the first time, Aria realized she didn’t care.

As she left, her phone buzzed again. A new email from Draven had arrived:

“Meet me in the library after hours. Alone. — C.D.”

Her fingers trembled over the screen. Alone. After hours. This was not an academic request. This was something else entirely.