Not the professor's "Baby"

DONT

Classes felt longer than usual, each lecture dragging on like my mind refused to settle. The weather was oddly hot too, the kind that made your shirt stick to your back. My phone buzzed twice in my pocket, but I ignored it. I already knew who it would be from.

I stepped out into the courtyard when the final bell rang, the campus already buzzing with people heading home or meeting up. The air smelled of dust and fresh-cut grass. Zina had texted that she was meeting someone and wouldn’t walk back with me. Typical.

My bag felt heavier than usual as I adjusted it on my shoulder and headed for the main gate, silently begging my thoughts to stop swirling around Daniel. Why now? Why here? It was stupid to think it would just fade.

“Interesting strategy,” a voice behind me said, low and calm.

I stopped walking, my heart knocking against my ribs before I even turned around.

He stood there like he owned the pavement, hands in his pockets, shirt sleeves folded to his elbows, tie slightly loosened. His hair looked windswept, and there was that look in his eyes that made it hard to breathe.

“Daniel,” I managed to say, my voice too soft.

“I texted you,” he said, stepping closer, closing the space between us until I could see the tiny crease between his brows.

“I didn’t give you my number,” I shot back, lifting my chin.

“I found it,” he said simply, like it wasn’t something to question.

“That’s not creepy at all,” I muttered, turning slightly as if to keep walking, but he didn’t move out of my way.

“Why didn’t you reply?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” I admitted, voice lower than I wanted it to be.

“I wasn’t asking if you knew. I was asking why you didn’t,” he said, and the way he said it calm, steady, almost too controlled made something twist inside me.

“You’re the one who said we shouldn’t see each other again,” I fired back, crossing my arms like it might protect me.

“And you agreed,” he countered, tilting his head. “But you didn’t really mean it, did you?”

“Don’t tell me what I meant,” I said, the words sharper than intended.

“You think this is easy for me?” His voice stayed low, but there was an edge now, something frustrated beneath the surface. “I see you every day, and you walk past like you’re completely unaffected.”

“Maybe because I’m trying to be,” I snapped.

“And how’s that working for you?”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Fine. Perfectly fine.”

His eyes didn’t believe me, and we both knew it. He stepped even closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, making it impossible to think straight.

“Let me drop you home,” he said, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

“No,” I said quickly.

“No?”

“You heard me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Why?” His question was so simple it almost made me laugh.

“Because you said yourself we shouldn’t see each other again,” I reminded him, my hands tightening around the strap of my bag.

“And what if I changed my mind?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have said it in the first place,” I said.

Silence hung between us. Students walked by, some glancing our way, but no one really paid attention. My heart beat so loudly it felt like it would echo off the concrete.

“Michelle,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, “do you really want to pretend this didn’t happen?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, because it was the truth.

“Be honest with me. Do you want to keep this going, even knowing the consequences?”

The way he said consequences sent a chill down my spine. He wasn’t being dramatic; we both knew exactly what those consequences could be.

“I shouldn’t,” I whispered.

“But you want to,” he said, voice firmer now, like he needed to hear me say it.

“I shouldn’t,” I repeated, weaker this time.

“I’m not asking if you should,” he said, stepping even closer. “I’m asking if you want to.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

His gaze softened just for a second. “I know you do,” he murmured. “And you know I do too.”

“Daniel…” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

“Come with me,” he said quietly. “Just let me drive you home.”

“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head.

“You can,” he corrected gently. “You just don’t want to.”

“That’s not fair,” I whispered.

“Neither is wanting something you’re not supposed to have,” he said, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

I hesitated, my bag feeling too heavy on my shoulder, my heartbeat too loud in my ears. “You shouldn’t have gotten my number,” I said.

“And yet, I did,” he said, almost amused.

“That’s not an answer,” I argued, finally meeting his eyes again.

“I don’t owe you an answer,” he said softly, and there it was that quiet authority that made him feel older, unreachable, and still painfully tempting.

“So that’s it?” I asked.

“For now,” he said, taking a step back, giving me space I didn’t really want. “If you decide you want to keep pretending, that’s fine. But if you decide you can’t, you know where to find me.”

I opened my mouth again, but no words came out.

“Goodnight, Michelle,” he said, turning and walking toward the staff parking lot like nothing happened, leaving me standing there, caught somewhere between wanting to scream and wanting to run after him.

I watched him go, my chest tight and my thoughts a mess. The part that hated him for making me feel this way was just as loud as the part that wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on me again.

I should have walked away, forgotten the whole thing, gone back to my apartment and buried myself in textbooks and cheap coffee. But as I finally turned to leave, my phone buzzed again. This isn’t over.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.

The walk home felt longer than usual, the evening breeze doing nothing to cool my burning face. Zina wasn’t home yet, probably out doing something normal, something that didn’t involve secrets and stolen glances.

In my room, I tossed my bag on the bed, falling back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling. His words echoed in my head, mixing with my own guilt and the memory of how it felt when he was close enough to touch.

I hated that he was right. I hated that part of me still wanted it, even knowing it could only end badly. But more than anything, I hated that for a moment, standing there in the sun, I’d almost said yes.