Forbidden Lecture: My Professor's Secret Craving

Chapter 13

The following morning, Aria stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the mug in her hand like it might reveal her future in the swirl of coffee. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun, a pen already tucked behind one ear out of habit. Her bag sat by the door, overstuffed with readings and grading she hadn’t touched over the weekend.

Lena watched her from the other side of the counter, her hip propped against the cabinets, cradling her own mug. Her T-shirt said NOPE in block letters.

“So,” Lena said, breaking the silence, “new week, new era, no more professor cock.”

Aria groaned, pressing a thumb into her eyelids. “It’s too early, Lena… It’s not even nine yet.”

“If I don’t say it now, you’ll convince yourself this past weekend was a dream instead of a cautionary tale,” Lena said. “Now, repeat after me: I am done sleeping with my married professor.”

Aria swallowed, throat suddenly tight. She set the mug down. “I am done sleeping with my married professor.”

“Again, with feeling,” Lena said.

Aria huffed out a breath. “I’m done sleeping with my married professor.”

“And,” Lena added, lifting her mug like a conductor, “I will not be alone with him. Ethan must be there with us in his office. No lingering in the hallways. No, ‘oh no, the door just shut behind us, whatever shall we do?’”

Despite herself, Aria laughed. “You’re very dramatic for someone who isn’t in this relationship.”

“That’s because I’d like you to graduate with a good reputation,” Lena said. “Say it.”

“I won’t be alone with him,” Aria repeated quietly. “No closed doors. No lingering.”

Lena’s expression softened. “Good. And for the record, I’m not saying this because I think you’re weak. I’m saying it because you’re human and from what you tell me, he’s… intense.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Lena c****d her head. “How are you feeling? Really. Not the ‘I’m fine, thanks’ version.”

Aria hesitated, fingers curling around the mug again. “Tired,” she said finally. “Like I ran an emotional 500-meter race in heels.”

“Yeah, the ‘am I accidentally pregnant by my professor’ sprint will do that,” Lena said gently.

Aria winced. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Come on, it’s a good reminder,” Lena said. “Because that feeling you had in my bathroom? That ‘my life might be over’ terror? I want you to remember it every time he looks at you and when your p***y wants to betray you.”

Aria exhaled slowly. “I know.”

Lena watched her for a beat. “And Tyler?”

Heat crept up Aria’s neck. “What about Tyler?”

“You did say you like him,” Lena said. “Like-like him. Which, just to be clear, is allowed. He’s single. He’s not your professor. I say he’s perfect.”

“I don’t know what I feel,” Aria said, picking at a chip on the counter. “He’s… easy to be around and—.”

“And that freaks you out,” Lena finished it for her.

“A little, yes,” Aria admitted. “I don’t want to use him as a rebound. Or worse, as a distraction while my life is a mess.”

“That’s why you have to be honest with him,” Lena said. “Safe guys can get hurt, too. Just because he’s not chaos doesn’t mean he’s bulletproof.”

Aria nodded. “You’re right. I’ll try not to drag him into something I can’t handle.”

“Good,” Lena said. She nudged a travel mug toward Aria. “Now go be a model student, you know, TA of the year. And when you get home, I want a full report on how many times you didn’t gaze longingly at your professor.”

Aria rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re annoying, Mom.”

“And you love me,” Lena said. “Text me if you feel wobbly. I will send threats.”

- - -

On campus, the November air bit at Aria’s cheeks as she crossed the quad. The university looked postcard-perfect—old stone, red leaves clinging stubbornly to branches, students with scarves around their necks, and coffee cups rushing between classes. She focused on her breathing.

I won’t be alone with him.

She walked into the department building with her heart racing. As his T.A., she was to check in with him.

Jason’s office door was open when she arrived. Ethan was there, leaning over the desk with a stack of papers. Thank God. Jason sat behind the desk, glasses on, his face serious.

His eyes lifted and met hers as soon as she walked in, and her stomach flipped.

“Good morning, Professor,” she greeted, trying to steady her voice.

“Morning.” There were no emotions in his voice.

That’s it? Like Friday’s s*x didn’t happen. Focus, Aria! You’re supposed to stay away, remember?

“Morning, Aria,” Ethan said as he turned.

She stepped toward him. “Morning. Do you need anything for the tutorials?”

“Just the rubrics,” Ethan said. “I already printed them. They’re on your desk.”

“Thanks,” she said.

She could feel Jason’s presence like a heat source. He didn’t say anything to her. His hand moved over the paper, writing something, his posture perfect.

Aria forced herself to smile at Ethan and then left the office.

In the lecture room, she sat closer to the aisle, not in her habitual spot in the front. She helped hand out discussion prompts, guided small group talk, and made notes when students said something interesting.

Jason lectured as normal, sharp, engaging, the same voice that had once made her want to major in whatever he was teaching.

When he asked a question and their eyes met briefly, her chest squeezed, and she looked away first.

After class, students clustered around the podium with questions. Aria made herself busy collecting stray handouts and answering quick clarifications. Ethan lingered near Jason, a buffer she hadn’t known she needed until now.

“Good work today,” Jason said finally, when most of the room had emptied. The compliment was directed toward both her and Ethan.

“Thanks,” Aria said, keeping her tone even. “I’ll email the attendance sheet.”

She didn’t step closer to him, nor did she wait for him to say more.

“Aria,” he started, something almost like hesitation in his voice.

She pretended not to hear and turned to a student who’d just asked about an upcoming essay. When she glanced back a minute later, he had already fallen into conversation with Ethan about grading criteria.

By the end of the day, her shoulders ached from tension. Every interaction had been a performance: professional, distant, and polite. Instead of going straight home, she walked over to the coffee kiosk.

Tyler stood behind the counter, his sleeves pushed up, apron dusted with stray grounds. His blond hair was a little mussed; someone had drawn a lopsided smiley face on the tip jar.

When he saw her, his face lit up in a way that made something in her flutter. His dimples were cute.

“There she is,” he said. “My favorite chaos gremlin.”

Aria laughed. “That’s slander. I am very put-together.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing two different socks.”

She glanced down. One black, one navy. Oh! “They’re... um… cousins.”

“Sure,” he said. “So, what’s your poison today?”

“Surprise me,” she said, dropping a couple of coins into the tip jar. “But not pumpkin spice. I’m not that basic.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult one of my best-selling drinks,” he said, already reaching for cups. “Rough day?”

“Long day,” she said.

“Ah yes, the classic ‘everything is fine, but also on fire’ vibe,” he said. “I’m familiar.”

He moved with easy efficiency, tamping espresso, steaming milk, and adding a drizzle of something that smelled like caramel. While he worked, he glanced up at her.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked. “Or should I just tell you about the old lady who yelled at me because our oat milk wasn’t organic enough?”

Aria smiled. “Ooohh… I wanna hear about that.”

He launched into a story about a customer who had taken ten minutes to order and then complained that the coffee was “too coffee-like.” His impressions were ridiculous; he pitched his voice high and delicate, miming her hand gestures. Aria found herself laughing, real laughter that caused snorting (you know, that kind of laugh).

He slid a drink across the counter—a latte with a messy heart on top, drizzled with caramel and something crunchy.

“What is this?”

“A hug in a cup,” Tyler said. “Also known as a caramel crunch latte that I’m not supposed to customize this much, so don’t snitch.”

She took a sip. The sugar hit her bloodstream and made her eyes sting unexpectedly.

“Woah,” he said softly. “Too sweet?”

“No,” she said quickly, swallowing. “It’s perfect. Today’s just… a lot.”

He leaned his elbows on the counter, closing a little of the distance. “You don’t have to give me the full TED Talk, but you can say a phrase, and I will get it.”

She stared at the swirling foam in her cup. “I had a scare,” she said quietly. “Thought I had messed up my life.”

He didn’t joke this time. “Is everything good now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Turns out my body just likes drama.”

“Relatable,” he said. “Mine does that too where it gets sick only during students’ finals week. That’s our peak time."

He watched her for a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “You look like you’re handling things well. You keep going. I think that’s… badass.”

“But…I don’t feel like I’m handling anything.”

“That’s kinda the trick,” he said. “Everyone who looks like they have their s**t together is secretly just juggling knives and hoping no one notices the blood.”

She snorted. “That’s a terrible metaphor.”

“True though,” he said, grinning. “Anyway, if you ever need a place to sit and not be a student or a TA or whatever, I can reserve you a stool by the espresso machine. It’s very exclusive.”

“Oh yeah?” she said. “VIP section?”

“Exactly,” he said. “Benefits include: free second-hand caffeine inhalation and my terrible jokes.”

“That last one sounds like a bug, not a feature,” she said, smiling.

“Bold criticism from someone drinking my art,” he said, nodding at her cup. “You wound me.”

She took another sip, letting the warmth spread through her. The kiosk buzzed around them; orders called, milk steaming, coins clinking, but in that little circle of space, she felt oddly steady.

“Thanks,” she said. “For the drink. And the… metaphors.”

“Anytime. I’ve got you.” He winked at her.

As she walked back across campus, Aria realized she felt lighter than she had been all weekend and today. The knot in her chest hadn’t vanished, but it felt… looser.

Lena’s voice echoed in her head: Safe guys can get hurt too.