Forbidden Lecture: My Professor's Secret Craving

Chapter Ten

Tyler found her on one of the quieter paths between the humanities building and the student union. Aria had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat. Her hair scattered around her face against the wind as her thoughts swirled around the anonymous post from the night before.

A certain professor and their TA.

She remained numb to her surroundings from the time she left her shift at the cafe the previous night to now.

“Aria!” Tyler called out as he jogged up to meet her. He carried two paper cups and a crinkled paper bag, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Wow! I didn’t know you walked too fast.”

She tried to smile. “I have to get to class early today.”

“Here you go,” he said, handing out the cup and the bag toward her. “Emergency fuel. Latte, with your ridiculous amount of caramel, and a muffin. I noticed you didn’t come around the kiosk to eat until like, three. I refuse to be complicit in your malnutrition.”

Warmth seeped into her fingers where they brushed his. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he cut in lightly. “That’s why it’s impressive.”

She huffed a laugh, the knot in her chest loosening a little. “Show-off.”

They walked toward a bench tucked under one of the trees, half sheltered from the wind. Tyler dropped down first, stretching his long legs out, ankles crossed. Aria sat beside him, close enough to feel his body heat through their coats.

“So,” he said, unwrapping his own muffin. “On a scale of one to combusting, how bad is the T.A. workload?”

“Depends,” she said, tearing off a piece of blueberry. “Maybe an eight?”

“That sounds… intense,” he said. “Is Professor Jason that bad?”

She hesitated, thinking of the appropriate words to use. “He’s… demanding. Sharp. The kind of professor who makes you feel stupid and brilliant at the same time. It’s… a lot.”

A gust of wind rattled the branches above them just as she blew on her latte, watching the foam shift.

“I worked really hard to get this scholarship,” she continued. “And now that I’ve got it, I’m terrified that one wrong move is going to send me back to square one.”

Tyler’s expression softened. “You’re not one wrong move. You’re like… five thousand right moves that got you here. Don’t forget that.”

“You know, you’re kinda good at pep talks?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “I have a reputation to maintain as a sarcastic barista who lives off caffeine and bad decisions.”

She laughed, the sound surprising her. He watched her with a look that she almost missed, a brief, unguarded warmth that made something flutter low in her stomach. He looked away quickly, taking a sip of his coffee like he’d said too much.

“Hey,” he added after a moment, voice softer. “For what it’s worth, I… like talking to you. It makes my day suck… less.” He shrugged, trying to make it sound like nothing.

Her heart gave a small, traitorous squeeze. “I like talking to you too,” she admitted. “But—.”

“Look,” he cut her gently, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “I don’t want to add any more pressure to your plate. I… I just wanted to tell you how I felt.”

Aria didn’t know what to say, so she smiled at him instead.

When they finally stood up to go, he bumped her shoulder with his. “If you need some cheering, text me. I’ll send memes and muffins.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a menace.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and jogged off toward the coffee kiosk.

She watched him go for a second too long, then shook herself and headed toward the humanities building.

- - -

Inside the lecture room, students chatted as they settled into seats, their low chatter filling the space. Aria took her place in front. She opened her book, trying to focus on the notes she’d prepared for tomorrow’s tutorial instead of the fact that Jason would walk in any second.

And he did, not a second too late. He strode down the aisle with his laptop case in hand. Today’s tie was dark red, a splash of color against his white shirt and black trousers. His gaze swept the room, professional, until it snagged on her.

Something dark flickered across his expression before he turned to the podium.

“Good afternoon,” he said, voice crisp. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

The lecture was on narrative reliability. He talked about narrators who lie, about the relationship between truth and storytelling. Aria tried to take notes as fast as he spoke, because as part of her job as his T.A., she would need to share the summary of what he taught in the class group online.

After class, as the students filtered out, Jason closed his laptop slowly.

“Miss Jenkins,” he said. “In my office. Now.”

Her stomach dropped.

She gathered her things and followed him as he walked out. They passed a few students who trickled past, some giving her curious looks. Ethan waved as he left his own lecture hall, already putting in his earbuds.

When the office door clicked shut behind them, the room seemed to grow smaller.

“We need to talk,” Jason said.

“About the tutorials?” she asked. “I know that I’m a—”

His jaw tightened as he cut her. “Why were you sitting on the bench with that barista boy for half an hour when you were supposed to be prepping for my class?”

She blinked. “Tyler?”

“I saw you,” he said, the words clipped. “Laughing while I was reviewing the lecture notes alone.”

“Wow! I didn’t realize my free time needed to be approved too.”

He exhaled sharply. “That’s not what I—”

“What, then?” she cut in. “What exactly is the problem, Professor?”

His eyes flashed. “The problem is that you’re my T.A., and you’re spending a lot of time with a boy who seems very interested in more than just coffee.”

“Tyler is my friend,” she said. “That’s allowed last time I checked.”

“A friend who looks at you like—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” she said, her anger rising. “Say it. Like what?”

“Like I do,” he snapped.

The words landed like a bomb.

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. “s**t! I shouldn’t have said that,” he said. “Forget it.”

“I can’t just forget it,” she said with a shaky voice, not from fear, but from the effort of holding everything back for a long time. “You don’t get to be jealous, Jason. You have a wife. A career. A whole damn image to protect.”

He flinched at his first name on her tongue. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then what are we doing?” She was almost shouting. “Because from where I’m standing, I’m the one who loses my scholarship, my degree, my reputation if anyone finds out about… any of this. You lose your job, sure, but you’ll land back on your feet with recommendations and a safety net. But me? I go back to pulling doubles at the cafe and praying my rent clears.”

His eyes softened, even as his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t care about your future?”

“I think you care,” she said. “I just don’t know if you can afford to.”

The silence fell almost immediately, except for their loud, huffed breathing.

“Do you even know what you do to me?” he asked quietly, the anger draining out of his voice. “Every time I try to be professional, every time I try to put distance between us, you’re right there. In my office. In my class. Laughing with some guy who doesn’t know half the things that keep you up at night.”

Her throat clenched. “That’s not fair to Tyler.”

“I’m not talking about Tyler,” he said, taking a step toward her. “I’m talking about me. About the fact that I—”

“Don’t,” she cut in as she backed up. “Don’t say it. Don’t make this any harder.”

“It already is,” he said, following her. “You know it.”

Her back hit the edge of the door.

“We said we’d be cordial, remember?” she whispered. “We agreed to pretend that nothing ever happened.”

“We lied,” he replied.

He closed the space between them. Her rational brain screamed at her to move, to push him away, to open the door and run out. But his eyes were on her mouth, and she remembered exactly how he tasted.

“Jason…” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

His mouth crashed onto hers, all the tension of the past weeks pouring into the kiss. It was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back so long he had forgotten how to stop.

She moaned into his lips, her fingers flying to his chest. He groaned, his hands finding her waist as he lifted her slightly and guided her backward until the edge of the table caught the backs of her thighs.

“Say you don’t want me,” he rasped, breathing hot against her mouth.

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

He kissed her again, one hand sliding up her spine while the other gripped her hip like he was afraid she’d vanish. The papers crinkled under her as he boosted her onto the table, stepping between her knees.

She felt his c**k. It was hard and insistent against the inside of her thigh, and her restraints snapped.

Her fingers tore at his tie, yanking it loose. “The door isn’t locked,” she gasped.

His eyes flashed. He swept a wild look toward the entrance, then strode over, flipped the lock, and was back in three long steps. His control was unraveling.

“Aria,” he said, as if her name were an apology and a prayer at once.