Chapter 4 Four
Celine
“It’s early,” I muttered to myself, staring at the clock on my phone. “Almost seven. I can still make it.”
My head throbbed from the lack of sleep, but I wasn’t about to lose this fight. Not before it even began. I’d spent half the night hunting down anyone who looked vaguely familiar from Professor Reed’s class. The rest of it was spent bribing the counselor for the syllabus and praying my brain would magically understand astrology before dawn.
Unfortunately, it didn't.
By the time I found the assignment, ate something half-burnt, and camped out in the library, I’d already fallen asleep between two stacks of dusty reference books. I woke up drooling on page 218, finished the damn report, ran home, changed, and sprinted straight to the physics department.
And now I was standing in front of his office—Professor Reed. The plaque glared down at me like it knew my fate. His secretary wasn’t in yet. The hallway was quiet except for the hum of early morning air conditioning.
Perfect. I could drop the assignment, avoid his piercing stare, and leave before he got in.
I didn’t even bother knocking. Who works this early, anyway?
The door creaked open easily—unlocked. I stepped inside.
And froze at the sight before me.
Oh, God.
A strangled squeak escaped my throat before a full scream followed. “I—I’m sorry!” I yelped, spinning around so fast the papers in my hand scattered.
Because there he was. Professor Reed. Shirtless.
Bare chest, low-slung trousers, and that terrifying calm face that looked like it could cut glass.
My pulse hammered. I tried to make a run for it, but his voice, low and detached, hit me like a bullet.
“You’re not running off without submitting, are you?”
I stopped mid-step, eyes squeezed shut. Why did every word he said sound like a perfectly articulated death threat?
“N-no, sir,” I managed. “I just—uh—didn’t expect—”
“Apparently,” he said, voice smooth.
I cursed inwardly. It wasn't my fault he left the comfort of his home to dress up in an office technically anyone could walk in.
I kept my eyes shut and tried to find his desk by touch alone, trailing my hand across the air until my knee hit something hard. “Ow—damn it.”
Then hands, strong, firm, unhurried, caught my wrist before I could fall. A sharp gasp tore from me as he turned me around effortlessly, my back colliding with solid heat.
“Careful there, will you?”
My brain stuttered. He’s close. Damn too close.
His chest brushed against my shoulder blades, bare skin meeting fabric, and for a terrifying second I thought my heart might actually stop.
I yanked myself away, spinning to face him, only to find him fully dressed. Perfectly buttoned-up shirt. Tie knotted. Not a single sign of what I just saw.
What the hell? Was I hallucinating from lack of sleep?
“I—uh—sorry about that,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my bag strap.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Take your courtesy class seriously next time. Any sane person would’ve knocked.”
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. “Right. Because sane people leave their doors unlocked while dressing up.”
His gaze flicked to me, sharp enough to slice. I bit my tongue.
He settled into his chair like a king taking his throne. “Your assignment.”
“Definitely sir” I said sweetly, walking up to his desk and placing the paper there. “Here. I guess I can remain in your class now, right?” I paused, “I'll take my leave now sir.”
He didn’t take it. Just looked at me, expressionless. “If you walk out that door before I check it, you’re out.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t even look up. “You’re eager to submit, I see. But do you understand what you wrote?”
My jaw clenched. “I did the work.”
“Did you?” He flipped open the file, scanning it with a slight raise of his brow. “Let’s see how well you grasped it.”
Oh, for God’s sake.
Still, I stood there, trying not to show how nervous and agitated I was as he flipped through my pages.
He leaned back. “Explain your opening line. ‘Opposing forces are bound to collide, but sometimes collision is the only way stars find rhythm.’ What does that mean?”
I met his gaze, arms crossing. “It means conflict doesn’t always destroy. Sometimes it creates balance.”
“Balance,” he repeated slowly. “And you think chaos can create that?”
His tone made it sound ridiculous. I lifted my chin. “Maybe not for everyone. But for people, or forces, that belong together, it does.”
A flicker passed through his eyes. “Interesting choice of words.”
“Why? You don’t think opposites attract?”
His brow arched slightly. “Attraction is irrelevant without control.”
I don't know, but I can't help but feel he's purposely dragging this out. And I'll play the game, even if he's beginning to make me want to actually punch him.
I smiled sweetly. “And control’s boring without temptation.”
His eyes lifted to mine. The silence stretched, thick and deliberate. Then he exhaled softly, glancing down at the paper again. “You’ll need better sources next time. Leave.”
Dismissed. Just like that.
“So… Am I staying?”
He gave me a slow, assessing look. “That depends on how early and less chaotic you're next time.” His eyes lingered, before taking them. “Shut the door behind you.”
I grabbed my bag, biting back a retort. He was infuriating. Arrogant. Completely unreadable.
I was halfway down the hall when I muttered, “Arrogant jerk.”
“It’s too loud in here,” I complained, shouting over the blaring music. Mandie didn’t even look back. She just threw her head back and laughed, swaying her hips like she was born in a club.
“Exactly why you need it!” she yelled back, grabbing my hand. “Come on, loosen up a little. Victor went to get us drinks.”
I groaned, but she didn’t care. Mandie never did. She was glowing under the neon lights, her hair bouncing, eyes shining. I envied how easy everything was for her, how she could forget the day, the mess, the humiliation.
Today has been nothing short of hell. First, I’d nearly embarrassed myself to death in Professor Reed’s office, and then Jason had called me a stalker in front of half the cafeteria while holding hands with his new girl. The entire table turned to look at me like I was some psycho who didn’t know when to let go.
So, yeah, Mandie thought I needed a night out. Apparently, vodka and noise were the cure to humiliation.
“Fine,” I muttered, giving in.
She squealed and dragged me onto the dance floor, her energy forcing me to move even when I didn’t want to. The bass thumped through my chest, and the air smelled of perfume, sweat, and spilled liquor. I tried to match her steps, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Reed’s unreadable face when I was in his office, and to Jason's smug smirk at lunch.
I lasted maybe fifteen minutes before giving up. “I’m gonna get some air!” I yelled.
Mandie waved me off, too lost in the music to care.
I made my way to the counter and ordered a drink. Just one, I told myself. Something to cool my nerves. But one turned into two, then three. Somewhere between shots, I started laughing to myself, bitterly and quietly. Maybe Mandie was right. Maybe I did need this.
My fingers traced the rim of the glass as my thought became a jumbled mess.
“Hey there,” a smooth voice interrupted.
I blinked, turning to face a guy I didn’t recognize. Tall, confident, with an easy smile and too much cologne.
“I’m Dave,” he said.
I blinked again, unbothered. “Okay.”
I would have turned back to my drinks and ignored him if Mandie hadn't appeared out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear. “Hey Cee. He’s cute, right? He offered to drop you off at the hostel since I’m leaving with Victor. Don’t worry, he’s nice. He's Victor's distant cousin.” She winked, leaning close to whisper, “Have fun, okay?”
Before I could protest, she was gone, leaving me to wonder why she asked me to have fun with a total stranger.
The new guy chuckled. “Your friend’s full of energy.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, forcing a smile. The room was spinning slightly, but I didn’t want to admit it. “You don't have to take me home okay? I’m fine. I can go on my own.”
He leaned in a little too close. “Come on, it’s late. Let me make sure you get back safe. I promised her that much.”
Something in his tone made my stomach twist. “No, really. I can handle myself. I'll get a taxi now.”
But he was already pulling at my wrist, guiding me through the crowd. Outside, the cool air hit my face, sobering me up just a little. I tried to pull back.
“I said I can handle myself,” I repeated, firmer this time.
He laughed softly, the kind that didn’t sound friendly anymore. “Don’t make it a big deal. I’m just helping you out.”
Then he leaned in, his hand gripping my waist as his lips brushed against mine.
I froze, then shoved him. “Stop!”
He didn’t. His other hand came up, pressing against my neck as he tried again, his breath hot and heavy. Panic clawed its way up my chest. I pushed harder, but he was stronger.
I swear I'll not forgive Maddie if this idiot forces himself on me!
“Let go of me, you jerk!”
He held me roughly against his car outside, saying stuff inaudibly.
I groaned, raising my hand when a familiar figure caught the edge of my vision. My head turned sharply, instinct pulling me toward the weight of a stare that felt like it was burning straight through my skull.
Something twisted low in my stomach when my eyes met those hazel ones I hadn’t expected to see—Professor Reed.
He stood beside a black car, arms crossed over his chest, the dark jacket stretching against his frame, face calm, unreadable, but his gaze fixed on us—on me. Not moving. Not saying a word.
I swallowed hard, a wave of relief crashing through me for no clear reason. Fine. I’d use him. Anything to get away from the drunk idiot trying to pull at my clothes like he had every right to.
Without thinking, I pushed against the man pinning me and said, breathlessly, “I came with someone.”
The guy scoffed. “You’re drunk, sweetheart. Stop pretending.”
He tried again, pinning me harder against the car. I could feel the edge of the metal digging into my back, and my hands trembled as I tried to push him off.
Then, suddenly, his weight vanished.
The air rushed back into my lungs as I stumbled forward, heart pounding so hard it hurt. I caught myself against the car, breath ragged, eyes darting—then went still in horror.
Dave was on the ground, groaning, blood running down his nose.
And standing over him was Professor Reed. Still calm. Still expressionless. “She said she’s with someone,” he said quietly, his voice like ice. “What part of that don’t you understand?”
