Three Meters Of Desire

CHAPTER FOUR

I wake up with my phone in my hand.

There's a good morning message from AJM waiting for me, and my heart does that fluttery thing again.

AJM: Good morning, Jane Austen girl. I hope today treats you better than yesterday did.

I smile before I'm even fully awake. We've been texting for three days straight, and every conversation makes me feel more like myself again.

Me: Good morning to you too. Today's the day I face my thesis supervisor again. Wish me luck.

AJM: You don't need luck. You have talent and passion. That's worth more than luck.

Me: Easy for you to say. You're not the one walking into the Professor's office.

There's a longer pause than usual before he responds.

AJM: well I'm a professor so I'm working into my own office

Me: that's completely different you're not submitting any thesis that could get rejected

AJM: Don't let him intimidate you. Your work has value, regardless of what he says.

Me: Thank you. I needed that reminder.

AJM: Text me after your meeting. I want to know how it goes.

I set my phone down with a stupid grin on my face. Someone cares about my thesis meeting. Someone wants to know how my day goes.

It's a weird feeling, but I like it.

"Look who's smiling," Sophie says from the kitchen. She's making coffee in her perfect silk pajamas while I'm in borrowed clothes that are too fancy for my budget.

"It's just nice to have someone to talk to," I say.

"Someone who isn't us?"

"Someone who doesn't know all my baggage."

Sophie brings me coffee in a mug that probably costs more than my textbooks. "How are you feeling about going back to campus?"

Nervous. Terrified. Like everyone will stare at me and whisper about how the scholarship girl got dumped.

"Fine," I lie.

"Elena."

"Okay, I'm scared. But I can't hide forever. And AJM is right - my work has value."

"AJM is smart," Sophie agrees. "I like him already."

I drive to Princeton with my phone buzzing with encouraging texts from AJM. He sends me quotes about courage, little jokes to make me laugh, reminders that I belong here just as much as anyone else.

By the time I park, I actually feel... hopeful.

The campus looks the same as always. Gothic buildings, perfectly manicured lawns, students who look like they stepped out of a catalog. But for once, I don't feel like an outsider looking in.

Professor Grant's office is in the same building where everything fell apart two weeks ago.

I knocked on his door with shaky hands as I took a deep breath.

"Come in."

Professor Grant looks up from his computer with the same bored expression he always wears. His office still smells like old books and disappointment.

"Miss Carter. How... unexpected."

I sit down and place my revised thesis chapter on his desk. Three weeks of work, guided by late-night conversations with AJM about what makes literature meaningful.

"I've revised Chapter One based on your feedback," I say clearly.

He picks up the pages like they might be contaminated. I watch him read, his expression giving nothing away.

The silence stretches forever.

Finally, he sets the papers down.

"This is... significantly improved."

I blink. Did he just give me a compliment?

"Your analysis of Brontë's subversion of Victorian marriage expectations is particularly insightful," he continues. "And your connection to contemporary feminist discourse shows sophisticated thinking."

I feel like I'm dreaming. "So you approve of it?"

"I approve of it." He makes a note on the first page. "You may proceed to Chapter Two."

I grab the papers before he can change his mind. "Thank you, Professor Grant."

"Miss Carter?" he calls as I reach the door.

"Yes?"

"Your thesis topic is good so please bring out your best."

I have to tell AJM.

I'm still in Professor Grant's office, my approved thesis chapter clutched in my hands, when I pull out my phone.

I have to tell AJM about this victory. He's the one who gave me the courage to revise it.

Me: You were right! He approved my chapter! Professor Grant actually said it shows promise!

I hit send and immediately open the dating app to see if he's online. I want to share this moment with someone who understands how much it means.

The app loads, showing AJM's profile picture. That peaceful silhouette on the beach.

I'm about to type another message when something catches my eye.

The distance.

Yesterday it said "147 miles away."

Now it says "3 meters away."

My blood turns to ice.

Three meters away.

I look up from my phone. Professor Grant is still at his desk, typing on his computer. He's the only other person in this room.

The only person within three meters of me.

No. No, no, no.

This can't be happening.

AJM - the man I've been sharing my deepest thoughts with - is Professor Grant?

My hands start shaking so badly I almost drop my phone. Everything crashes together in my mind like puzzle pieces I don't want to fit.

Literature professor. Check.

At work on campus. Check.

Three meters away from me right now.

Professor Grant looks up from his computer. "Miss Carter? Are you feeling alright? You look pale."

I stare at him, this man who just approved my thesis. This man who I've been texting with for three days. This man who made me feel intelligent and valued and seen.

My thesis supervisor.

"I... I have to go," I stammer, backing toward the door.

"Miss Carter—"

But I'm already running.

The hallway is busy with students and faculty. Any one of them could be AJM. Any one of them could be the man who's been making me feel safe and valued and seen.

Any one of them could be lying to me.

I make it to the parking lot before I have to stop and catch my breath. My chest feels tight, like I can't get enough air.

My phone buzzes.

I make it to the parking lot before my legs give out. I lean against my car, gasping for air.

Professor Grant is AJM.

The man who told me my work lacks depth is the same man who's been encouraging me for three days.

The man who said I don't belong at Princeton is the same man who made me feel seen and valued.

My phone buzzes with a new message, but I can't look at it. I can't deal with this right now.

I drive away from campus like I'm being chased.

Back at Sophie's apartment, I collapse on the couch and stare at the ceiling.

"Elena?" Sophie appears in the doorway. "How did it go with... Elena, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's him," I whisper.

"Who's him?"

"AJM. It's Professor Grant."

Sophie sits down hard. "What?"

"The app showed three meters away while I was in his office. He was the only other person there, Sophie. The only one."

"Wait, are you saying—"

"Professor Grant is AJM. My thesis supervisor is the man I've been texting for three days."

Sophie stares at me. "Holy shit."

"I told him everything. About Alex, about my thesis struggles. And it was him the whole time."

"But Elena, that means—"

"That means I've been emotionally cheating on myself with my own professor!" I bury my face in my hands. "This is a disaster."

My phone is buzzing nonstop in my bag, but I can't look at it. I can't deal with messages from him right now.

"What are you going to do?" Sophie asks.

"I don't know." I look up at her, tears streaming down my face. "I can't text him back. It would be wrong. He's my professor."

"But he doesn't know that you're you."

"Which makes it worse! He's been honest with me, and I've been lying by omission this whole time."

Sophie reaches for my hands. "Elena, you weren't lying. You didn't know either."

"But now I do know. And I can't keep pretending I don't."

I pull my phone out and turn it off without reading the messages.

"I have to stay away from him," I say quietly. "This has to stop."

"What about your feelings?"

"My feelings don't matter. He's my professor. There are rules about this kind of thing."

Sophie looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn't.

Because she knows I'm right.

I've finally found someone who makes me feel whole again.

And he's the one person I can never have.