A GIRL WHO DIDN'T BELONG

chapter 5 FIRST ENCOUNTER

The café was warm against the chill of the evening air, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around her as she stepped inside, she spotted him instantly, seated at a corner table away from the rest, one hand curled loosely around a steaming mug, his eyes already on her before she’d even taken two steps, and that look — steady, unreadable, too intent — made her heartbeat stumble, she crossed the room slowly, aware of every pair of eyes that followed her, but his gaze was the only one she felt, like a heat under her skin, when she reached the table he rose halfway, pulling out the chair beside him instead of across, a small gesture that told her this wasn’t going to be a polite lecturer-student conversation, she sat, smoothing her skirt, trying not to notice how close his knee was to hers under the table, the low hum of chatter and clink of cups filled the air but here in this corner it felt like another world, he didn’t waste time, his voice was low and direct, “Do you think I really cared about that cat mark?” she froze, fingers tightening on the edge of her cup, “I… thought you needed it for…” but he cut her off with a faint smile that wasn’t really a smile, “No, Amarah. I wanted a reason to see you. Away from campus. Away from that room where I have to pretend I don’t notice you.” her breath caught, she wasn’t sure what startled her more — the boldness of his words or the calm way he said them, like he’d been rehearsing them, he leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne mixing with coffee and something warmer, his gaze holding hers without a blink, “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to stand there, lecturing, while you sit in the front row… looking the way you do…?” her mouth went dry, she swallowed but it didn’t help, “Dennis… this isn’t—” “Allowed?” he finished for her, the edge of a challenge in his tone, “You think I don’t know that? I’ve known it since the first day. And yet… here you are. And here I am.” she glanced away, needing space, but the café felt too small, too warm, every sense sharp, the faint scrape of his chair sounded loud as he shifted closer, his voice dipping even lower, “I’ve watched you, Amarah… the way you sip your pen cap when you’re lost in thought, the way every guy in that class forgets what I’m saying when you walk in… and I’ve told myself not to think about it, but I do,” his words seemed to curl around her, pulling her in, her fingers tightened on the handle of her mug, part of her wanting to leave, part of her wanting to see just how far this would go, his hand rested on the table now, close enough that her knuckles brushed his when she moved, the contact small but electric, he didn’t move away, didn’t blink, just let the silence stretch until it was almost unbearable, then said softly, “I didn’t bring you here for a cat mark, Amarah. I brought you here because I can’t stop thinking about you,” the words hit harder than she expected, her pulse loud in her ears, she told herself to say something, anything, but her voice wouldn’t come, he sat back finally, giving her space, but the way his eyes lingered told her this was far from over, “Tomorrow,” he said, taking the last sip of his coffee, “Same time, same place,” and without waiting for her agreement he stood, the faint brush of his hand against her shoulder as he passed sending a shiver straight through her, she sat there long after he’d gone, staring at the swirl of coffee in her cup, knowing she’d just stepped onto dangerous ground — and not sure she wanted to step off