Episode 9- Unannounced
851 Words
Literature Department, Late Afternoon
The hallway outside the Literature department was unusually quiet. Students had already scattered across campus for the day, and only a few stray voices echoed from distant rooms. Lily stood near the last door on the right---Dr. Weston's office-fidgeting with the strap of her bag, her pulse a little quicker than usual.
The project was harder than she'd expected. "Identity in Contemporary Literature" sounded straightforward until she sat down to dissect it. Her mind wandered, tangled in interpretations and unsure of the direction.
And maybe....just....maybe.....this was a good excuse to see him again.
She hesitated, then raised her hand and knocked twice.
Silence.
She leaned in, listening.
Nothing.
Maybe he wasn't there. Or maybe he was inside too focused to hear.
She glanced down the hallway, then slowly pressed the handle. The door gave way with a soft click.
Lily stepped inside.
The office was warmly lit, larger than she'd expected, and neat--almost too neat. Bookshelves lined the walls, all perfectly arranged by height and color. A classic wooden desk stood near the window, paper trays tidy and a fountain ped laid precisely across a leather blotter.
Then her eyes drifted---
A painting hung beside the door to the adjoining room, abstract in nature, dark colors bleeding into soft gold.
She stepped closer to study it.
Click.
The restroom door beside her swung open without warning.
Thud.
The edge of the door caught her lightly on the shoulder, sending her stumbling back.
"Oh!" she gasped, losing balance---
A pair of strong arms caught her just in time.
For a moment, time paused.
She looked up.
He looked down.
Their eyes locked--wide, surprised. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands lingered at her waist, steadying her. There was something unreadable in his gaze: confusion, concern...something deeper?
Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He took a step back, his face returning to its usual unreadable calm.
"Miss Harper," he said, voice even but firm.
"What are you doing here?"
"I--I'm sorry," Lily stammered, brushing her hair back. I knocked, but no one answered. I wasn't sure if you were in... I just had a question about the project."
He looked at her for a long second, then gave a subtle nod and gestured toward the seat in front of his desk.
"Next time, wait until I respond," he said curtly, then added, "But…since you're here, ask."
She lowered herself into the chair, trying to focus, even though her pulse was still racing.
The door might've hit her--
But nothing could've prepared her for that look in his eyes.
Scene Two: "Closed Enough" Dr Weston's Office
Lily's notebook lay open on her lap, but her fingers didn't move. Across from her, Dr. Weston sat behind his desk, posture straight, sleeves rolled slightly past his elbows as he gestured lightly toward the passage in her notes.
"You're focused too much on what the author says, not what they mean," he explained, his tone smoother now, calm and thoughtful. "Identity in literature isn't always defined by a character's background-it's often shaped by how they're perceived....and how they resist that perception."
Lily nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek as she listened. His words were making sense now, more than they had in class. Maybe it was quiet, the lack of pressure--or maybe it was just the way he explained things. Patient. Detailed. Different from the man who barely looked at his students during lectures.
But the longer he spoke, the harder it was to ignore... him.
His voice had depth. His eyes--those intense, deep gray eyes--rarely strayed from her notes, but when they did, they lingered just a second too long.
She quickly looked down at the page again, pretending to write something.
Her pen didnt't move.
Daniel's POV
He knew she was watching him.
Lily Harper sat quietly across from him, her brows furrowed in thought, lips pressed together in the way she did when she was trying to make sense of something. He told himself to focus on the project---on the literature--but she was...distracting.
The moment she'd walked into his office, it had thrown him off. Not just because she'd caught him off guard-- but because she didn't flinch. She'd stood there, wide-eyed, caught in his arms like something out of a scene he never should've let happen.
And now?
Now she was here, leaning slightly forward, clearly trying not to stare, and failing just as miserably as he was.
He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, forcing his eyes back to her paper.
"You're on the right track," he said quietly. Your thoughts aren't wrong, just... buried under too much structure. Let the interpretation breathe a little."
She smiled, that same soft, grateful smile from the first day of class. "Thank you. That really helps."
He nodded once.
"It's my job."
But as she stood to leave and thanked him again, Daniel didn't move.
Not until the door clicked shut behind her.
And even then, he remained seated--staring at the empty chair across from him.
Wondering just how close he was letting her get.
- Writer
