7

It was after class.

Most students had filed out, papers rustling, phones buzzing, chairs scraping across the floor. Mariah lingered.

She always lingered.

I pretended not to notice at first, stacking papers neatly on my desk, avoiding her eyes. She stood by the door like she was waiting for someone—or something. But when the last student left and the door clicked behind them, she moved.

"Professor Harris?" She said, stepping closer.

I glanced up. "Yes?"

She hesitated, then held up her notebook.

"I'm having a hard time outlining the policy section. I know we have class discussions, but... I don't know. I thought maybe you could look at what I have?"

I took the notebook from her without touching her hand.

She was always so close. Close enough to make me notice the coconut scent in her curls. The gold glint of her necklace. The soft pink gloss on her lips.

I scanned the notes. "You're approaching it from the wrong angle. You're writing like someone trying to get it right, not someone trying to make a point."

"I don't want to sound stupid."

She isn't stupid."You're not stupid."

She shifted on her feet. "I don't want to take up your office hours. I know they fill fast."

Then I reached for a Post-it.

Wrote down a number.

Folded it once, neatly, and slid it across the desk without looking at her.

"Text if you need help."

She stared at the folded note. Then at me.

"Seriously?"

"Strictly academic."

She raised an eyebrow. "Of course."

A pause.

"Thank you," she said, finger brushing the note before slipping it into her pocket.

I didn't say anything.

She turned and walked out, but not before glancing back.

Once.

And smiling.

Just a little. __________

My phone buzzed at 12:16 AM.

I was already awake, sitting in bed with a legal journal in one hand and an untouched glass of water on the nightstand. Insomnia was old company. Most nights I welcomed it.

I didn't expect the name that lit up on my screen.

Mariah.

I hesitated for a second—just one.

Then I answered.

"Hello?"

There was a pause. Then: "Did I wake you?"

Her voice was soft. Groggy. Vulnerable.

"No," I said, leaning back against the headboard. "I was up."

"I'm sorry for calling so late."

I shifted slightly. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just..." she trailed off. "I've been staring at my ceiling for two hours. My mind won't shut up."

I exhaled, lowering the journal into my lap. "Is this about the reading?"

She let out a small laugh. "No. Well—kind of. Not really."

"Then what is it about?"

More silence.

"You."

My throat tightened.

"Mariah..."

"I know I shouldn't have called," she rushed. "I know this is crossing something—some line. I just... I don't know. I needed to hear your voice."

My jaw clenched. "You're my student."

"I know."

There was nothing flirty in her tone. Just truth. Just longing.

"I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes, I think about the way you looked at me tonight. Like I'm not just some girl in your lecture hall."

I closed my eyes. The sound of her voice, this late, did something to me. It frayed something id worked very hard to keep intact.

"Mariah, you're not just some girl," I said finally, voice low.

She let out a breath, like she'd been waiting to hear it.

"You were jealous tonight," she said quietly.

I didn't deny it.

"And then you made me jealous," she added.

This time, I smiled, despite myself. "I was... making a point."

"You made it."

We both fell silent. The air between us, even over the phone, felt charged.

"What would you be doing right now," she asked softly, "if I weren't your student?"

I opened my eyes. Stared at the ceiling.

Dangerous question.

"I'd ask where you are," I said. "And I'd drive there."

She sucked in a breath. "And then?"

I let that hang in the air.

"And then I'd tell you to stop making midnight calls unless you're ready for what happens next."

Silence. Tension.

"I might be ready," she whispered.

I closed my eyes again, harder this time. "Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not sure I'd stop myself."

She didn't say anything for a long time.

Then:

"Okay," she said. "Goodnight, professor."

I swallowed. "Goodnight, Mariah."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone for a long time after that, heart pounding and spinning.

She'd hung up first.

And I hated how much I liked that. ___________

Omg.... They need to become scissor sisters already. 🫩