Academic Seduction [profxstudent][wlw]

Chapter Thirty Three

Wednesday;

Wednesday. Otherwise known as Little Saturday. The fake weekend. An excuse people use just because it's close to the real Saturday. A midweek celebration, a mini-break from the work grind, enjoying good times as if it were the weekend.

For everyone else, apparently.

For me? I have been studying. Actual studying. Sitting at a desk, highlighting things, pretending my brain is cooperating. I was not in the mood for it at all, but I also did not want to disappoint my parents. Or Victoria. Especially Victoria. The thought of her giving me that disappointed look made my stomach twist in a way I did not enjoy. So I studied. I complained internally the entire time, but I studied.

What I find slightly alarming is how much time I have spent in Victoria's office over the last two days. It is becoming a pattern. Ever since I admitted to myself that I am in love with her, I suddenly cannot stay away. I keep inventing reasons to be there. A question about an assignment. A need for silence. A desire for air conditioning. Sometimes I just sit there and do my own work while she does hers, pretending that this is completely normal behaviour.

I want to be near her. Even when she throws sarcastic comments my way. Even when she gives me that look after I say something unhinged. Even when she pretends she is annoyed by my presence while absolutely not kicking me out. I take it all. It feels worth it.

Asha has noticed, of course. She has asked me multiple times where I have been disappearing to lately. I told her the professional version of the truth. That Sinclair has been drowning me in work. That I barely have time to breathe. That I am a victim of academia.

Which is a lie. Victoria has not been drowning me in anything except eye contact and tension. She mostly lets me study and do my own thing. She brings me water sometimes. She pretends she does not. It is very irritating in the best possible way.

Something shifted after the date. I noticed it immediately. She is softer. Not openly, not dramatically, but it is there. In the way her voice lowers when she talks to me. In the way her hand lingers for half a second longer than necessary. In the way she looks at me when she thinks I am not paying attention.

She is a little mushy now. She hates that word. I will never say it to her face. She is trying very hard to hide it, pretending she is still mysterious and emotionally unavailable. I see through it. Completely.

I will not tell her that though. She enjoys the illusion far too much.

In any case, I was seated at the desk in her office, my books spread out in front of me, highlighter uncapped, notes half written. I had been staring at the same paragraph for far too long, reading the words without actually absorbing them. My shoulders ached and my neck felt tight from hunching over like a gargoyle for the last hour.

The door opened quietly behind me. I barely registered it at first. I assumed it was another faculty member passing by, or maybe just someone in the hallway. I kept my eyes on the page, trying to force my brain to work.

Then I felt her.

Warm hands settled on my shoulders, firm and familiar. I stiffened for half a second out of surprise before my body immediately betrayed me and relaxed into her touch. Her thumbs pressed in just right, slow and deliberate, like she knew exactly where everything hurt.

"Oh," I breathed before I could stop myself.

She did not say anything at first. Just continued, her fingers working into the muscles that had been screaming at me all morning. I let my head tip forward slightly, my grip on the pen loosening.

A soft groan slipped out of me, low and unfiltered. I did not even try to hide it.

Behind me, I felt her pause.