Tease Me, Sir [Completed]

Chapter 11: Unraveling

Maxine should have known better.

She should have known that walking away wouldn't be the end of it.

But she had no idea just how relentless Noah Castellano could be.

Because the more she pushed him away, the more he refused to let go.

It started subtly.

At first, she thought she was imagining it—the way his gaze lingered a little too long during lectures, the way his jaw tensed whenever he saw her laughing with Jerome or Josh.

Then came the moments that were harder to ignore.

Like the way he'd suddenly appear in the library while she was studying, flipping through books he had no reason to read. Or the way his gaze would darken whenever she was too close to someone else.

And then there was today.

The campus café was buzzing with students, a steady hum of conversation filling the space as Maxine sat with Bea, Lianne, and Ashley.

"So then he completely forgot the deadline," Bea was saying, stirring her iced coffee. "And guess who had to cover for his ass?"

Lianne snorted. "Let me guess—Jerome?"

"Obviously." Bea rolled her eyes. "That guy would lose his head if it wasn't attached to his body."

Maxine tried to focus on their conversation, she really did. But the weight of a stare burned into her skin.

She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

But she did anyway.

And sure enough, Noah was there—sitting at a corner table, alone, his fingers tapping idly against the rim of his coffee cup.

He wasn't even pretending to look elsewhere.

His gaze was locked on her, sharp, unreadable.

Maxine swallowed, forcing herself to turn back to her friends.

Ashley, oblivious, kept the conversation going. "Speaking of deadlines, have you guys noticed how intense Castellano has been lately? I swear, I turned in my paper two minutes late, and he looked like he was going to murder me."

Lianne sighed dramatically. "Honestly, I wouldn't even be mad if he did. Like, imagine being scolded by that face."

Bea smirked. "You have issues."

Maxine forced a laugh, hoping it masked the way her heart was racing.

She refused to look at him again.

But she could feel him.

Like he was daring her to meet his gaze.

And then her phone buzzed.

Her breath caught when she saw the name.

Noah Castellano.

Her fingers hovered over the screen.

He had never texted her before.

Not since that night.

She shouldn't open it.

She shouldn't.

But her hand had a mind of its own.

Noah: Come outside.

A chill ran down her spine.

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she typed back.

Maxine: Why?

His response came instantly.

Noah: Come outside, Maxine.

Her pulse hammered in her throat.

"What's wrong?" Ashley asked, eyeing her.

Maxine plastered on a smile. "Nothing. Just—uh, Grace forgot her charger. I'll be right back."

She stood before they could question her, slipping out of the café and into the crisp evening air.

Noah was already there, leaning against a nearby pillar, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

She stopped a few feet away, arms crossing. "You know, normal professors don't text their students in the middle of the day demanding secret meetings."

His gaze flicked over her, assessing. "You answered."

She clenched her jaw. "Only because you wouldn't leave me alone otherwise."

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "You're learning."

Something about his tone—low, amused, possessive—made her stomach twist.

She shook her head. "What do you want?"

Noah pushed off the pillar, taking a step toward her. "You tell me."

She scoffed. "Oh, please—"

"You think I don't notice?" His voice dropped, sending a shiver down her spine. "The way you look at me when you think no one's watching?"

Her throat tightened. "You're delusional."

He took another step, closing the distance between them. "Am I?"

She should step back.

She should push him away.

But she didn't.

Because, despite everything, she was caught—trapped in his orbit, in the suffocating intensity of his gaze.

Noah reached up, his fingers ghosting over her wrist before she yanked it back.

"I told you to stay away," she whispered, voice shaky.

His smirk faded. "And yet, here we are."

A car honked in the distance. Laughter echoed from inside the café.

But in this moment, it was just them.

Maxine forced herself to breathe. "You need to stop this."

Noah tilted his head. "What if I don't want to?"

Her stomach flipped. "Then I'll make you."

His eyes darkened. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Then, slowly, he exhaled, taking a step back.

She felt the loss of his presence instantly.

Noah studied her for a long moment, then—finally—said, "Go back inside, Maxine."

She narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His expression was unreadable again, voice measured, composed. "Go back to your friends. Laugh. Pretend none of this happened."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. "And what about you?"

Noah smiled. But there was nothing kind about it.

"I'm just getting started."

Maxine's breath caught, but before she could respond, he turned and walked away.

She tried to ignore it.

Tried to pretend that nothing had changed.

But it had.

Because ever since that night outside the café, Noah Castellano had made one thing very, very clear—

He wasn't going to stop.

And if he wanted to play games?

She could play, too.

The classroom buzzed with low chatter as students filtered in, settling into their seats.

Maxine took her usual spot beside Bea and Lianne, pretending she wasn't hyperaware of the man at the front of the room.

Noah stood by his desk, sleeves rolled up, flipping through his notes as if he hadn't spent the last week making her life hell.

Every glance. Every unspoken challenge. Every moment of tension thick enough to suffocate her.

She knew what he was doing.

He wanted to break her.

He wanted to remind her that he was in control.

Well.

Two could play that game.

"He's staring again," Bea muttered beside her.

Maxine didn't react, keeping her expression neutral. "Who?"

Bea shot her a look. "Who do you think?"

Lianne hummed. "It is kind of insane, though. Why does he always look so... pissed?"

Maxine swallowed a laugh. If only they knew.

Bea sighed dreamily. "Maybe he just needs to relax a little, you know? Let loose."

Lianne snorted. "Oh, please. The man probably schedules his breathing."

Josh, seated behind them, groaned. "Are we really talking about Castellano again? What is it with you guys?"

Jerome leaned back in his chair, smirking. "You wouldn't get it, man. It's the mystery."

Josh rolled his eyes. "It's the money."

Bea shrugged. "Well, yeah. That too."

Maxine bit the inside of her cheek, her pulse spiking as she felt the weight of a gaze settle on her.

Slowly, cautiously, she lifted her eyes—

And met his.

Noah didn't look away.

Didn't blink.

Just studied her, fingers tapping idly against his desk.

Daring her.

Maxine inhaled sharply, a challenge sparking in her veins.

Fine.

If he wanted to test her—

She'd push back.

The corner of her lips curled, her gaze dropping ever so slightly—just long enough to make it suggestive before flicking back up.

It was barely a movement.

Barely a shift.

But she saw the way his grip tightened on his pen.

Saw the way his jaw flexed, the way his eyes darkened in silent warning.

A thrill shot through her.

"Alright," Noah's voice cut through the room, low and firm. "Let's begin."

The class fell silent, and Maxine leaned back in her seat, satisfaction curling through her chest.

She was winning.

Or so she thought.

Because Noah Castellano was nothing if not relentless.

The teasing continued.

A lingering glance here. A subtle brush of fingers when he handed back papers. A challenge laced in the way he said her name.

Every moment—small, insignificant to anyone else—was a private war between them.

And she was losing.

Because it was getting to her.

It was getting under her skin, into her head, making her wonder what it would feel like if he actually touched her instead of just toying with her.

And then came the moment she snapped.

The library was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting golden streaks across the wooden tables.

Maxine sat alone in a secluded corner, flipping through her notes.

Or at least, pretending to.

Because across the room, Noah stood by a bookshelf, flipping through a book he had no reason to read.

Again.

She exhaled slowly.

This was getting ridiculous.

If he wanted to push—

She'd shove.

Maxine closed her notebook and stood, weaving through the rows of bookshelves until she reached him.

She didn't speak at first.

Just stood beside him, close enough that their arms almost brushed.

Noah turned a page, voice cool. "Shouldn't you be studying?"

Maxine tilted her head, voice quiet, meant just for him. "Shouldn't you be grading?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "I don't like games, Maxine."

She hummed. "Really? Because you've been playing one all week."

He finally turned his head, eyes burning into her.

Maxine felt it—the heat, the weight of his presence pressing against her like a tangible thing.

So she leaned in, just enough that her lips hovered near his ear.

Then, ever so softly— "Then tease me, Sir. I'll play your game."

His breath hitched.

Just for a fraction of a second.

But she heard it.

Felt the tension snap taut between them.

Noah exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the book in his hands. "Careful, Maxine."

She smiled, stepping back. "Why?"

He didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Just stood there, eyes locked on her, as if he was debating whether to push her against the bookshelf or walk away entirely.

For the first time, she wasn't sure which one she wanted him to do.

And that terrified her.

So she turned on her heel and walked away, heart hammering in her chest.

But as she left, she heard him murmur—low, dark, and dangerous—

"You have no idea what you've just started."