Against All Rules

Chapter 4: Not That Way

Time slipped away from me way too easily when I was working. It was a habit, really - between case files from my law firm, reports I had to analyze, and grading papers after class... I lost track of hours like they're minutes.

By the time I packed up my bag and turned off the lights in my classroom, the whole building was already quiet and empty. The only sound was the soft patter of rain hitting the windows, turning the city lights outside into blurs of gold and white.

"Oops," I thought with a small sigh. "It's way past dinner time again."

I pulled my coat tighter around me and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The rain was light but steady, the air cool and fresh after a warm day. Manhattan still hummed in the distance, but this part of the street was quieter than usual - most students had gone home long ago, and only a few cars passed by now and then.

Or... maybe not that few.

I found myself glancing over my shoulder more than once. There was a black sedan parked across the street that had been there when I first came out. And further down, a man stood under a streetlamp, hands in his pockets, looking like he wasn't in any hurry to go anywhere.

A small prickle ran up my spine. Old habits, I guess. When you spend half your life reading about crimes and threats, your brain starts seeing shadows everywhere.

"Stop it Sophie," I told myself firmly, picking up my pace a little. "You're just tired. And paranoid. That's all."

I turned onto Mercer Street, heading the usual way home, when disaster struck - as it always does. My bag slipped a little off my shoulder, and before I could catch it, half my papers fluttered out, flying everywhere in the light breeze and rain.

"Ugh - of course," I mumbled, hurrying to kneel down and grab them before they got soaked. I was so busy chasing one sheet that blew further away, I didn't hear footsteps until a shadow fell over me.

"Professor."

That voice. Low, rough, impossible to mistake.

I jumped a little, clutching the papers to my chest, and looked up.

There he was - Julian Carson. Standing there like he'd just appeared out of the rain itself. He didn't look surprised to see me, didn't even look like he'd been walking this way by chance. He just stood there, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, watching me with that same unreadable expression.

My heart did that strange little flip again - not fear, exactly, but awareness. Like every time he was near, the world went just a little quieter.

"Mr. Carson," I said, brushing wet strands of hair off my face. "What are you doing out this late? Did you forget something too?"

He ignored the question completely. Instead, he nodded his head slightly down the street I was about to take.

"Not that way."

I blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"

"Take the other route," he said, short and direct, no extra words. His tone wasn't asking. It was stating a fact, like he knew something I didn't.

I stared at him. The street looked perfectly fine to me. Empty, yes, but just wet asphalt and streetlights. "Why? Is there a problem?"

He just gave a tiny, almost unnoticeable shrug. "Safer."

And before I could ask anything else - safer how? safer from what? how do you know? - he turned and started walking in the opposite direction, as if his job here was already done. No explanation, no waiting to see if I'd listen. Just gone again, the way he always was.

I stood there for a moment, papers still clutched in my hands, rain falling around me. It made no sense. It was just a street. But... there was something about the way he said it. So sure. So certain. Like he saw risks I couldn't even imagine.

Against my better judgment, I changed my path.

It added ten minutes to my walk home, and I kept telling myself the whole way that I was being ridiculous. "He's just a student," I repeated. "Probably heard some construction is happening or something."

I almost forgot about it completely until the next morning, when I walked past the same street on my way to school.

Now it was blocked off. Yellow police tape stretched across the entrance, and officers were standing around talking to witnesses. There was no blood, no fire, nothing dramatic - but from what I heard, there had been an incident late last night. A fight gone wrong, apparently, leaving the street closed for hours.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my breath catching.

If I'd gone that way... I would have walked right into the middle of it.

My mind raced. How did he know?

He left class long before me. He couldn't have heard it on the news - it happened after I left. And why would he even care enough to warn me anyway?

I stood there for a long moment, watching the officers move around, and told myself the only logical thing.

"Coincidence," I thought firmly. “It’s just luck. He probably noticed something small or I’m overthinking it.”

But even as I said it, a little voice in the back of my head whispered something else:

“How did he know that exactly? That timing doesn’t make sense.”

“Is this coincidence?”

“Is he just observant?”

But I still listened because something in his tone feels too confident to ignore.