Chapter 32
Alex
Being back on this bus was a new level of hell.
I took my usual spot on the top deck, jamming my earphones in to drown out the collective groans of a Monday morning commute.
The weekend shifts had been brutal. The students were back in town with a vengeance, and The Dam was absolutely mental.
I was so high-strung that when Mia tried to dig into the Carrie situation again, I finally snapped.
I was pissed—pissed that she’d planted those seeds of doubt in the first place, and pissed that she was still badgering me.
I regretted the outburst almost immediately.
Mia spent the next hour ignoring me, and she was terrifying when she was silent.
Eventually, I had to put my tail between my legs and apologised.
Before I headed out to find Carrie that night, I spent a few extra minutes in the staff room with Mia, just letting it all out.
She was only looking out for me. Thankfully, she didn't push the "obsessed jailer" narrative again.
She was still clearly not convinced that this was real love rather than some toxic, mutual obsession, but it didn't matter. It was our relationship, not hers.
When the shift finally ended and I saw Carrie waiting for me, it felt like I could finally breathe again. That sense of safety was worth everything.
But now, the bubble was gone. I was heading in early—I needed to get into the classroom before the rest of the herd arrived.
I got to the seminar room twenty minutes before the Economics session started, and for once, the universe was on my side: the room was empty.
I quickly opened my bag and pulled out the single red rose I had been shielding like fine china all morning.
My heart thumped against my ribs as I placed it right in the centre of Dr. Carter’s desk.
I didn't linger; I bolted back out the door, taking a lap around the building to burn off the adrenaline.
When I finally walked back in, the room was starting to fill. I spotted Holly at our usual table and felt a wave of normalcy hit me. "Hey, sweetheart," I said, tossing my bag down.
“Alex!” Holly beamed, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug, immediately rattling off questions about my break. Before I could even formulate a lie about how quiet my holidays were, Mo and Abdul joined us, regaling us with the chaos of their New Year’s celebrations.
I nodded and laughed in all the right places, but my ears were tuned to the hallway.
Right on time, the room fell into that peculiar, respectful hush. The chatter died down as the rhythmic, sharp click-clack of high heels echoed down the corridor. It was a sound that usually commanded fear in this department, but for me, it made my stomach do a slow, dizzying flip.
The door swung open.
Dr. Carter walked in, the very picture of icy, academic authority in a tailored charcoal suit. She didn't look at the class. She didn't look at me. She walked straight to her desk, her movements fluid and professional.
She stopped.
Her eyes dropped to the rose. For a fraction of a second—so fast that if I weren't staring I would have missed it—her composure faltered.
Her hand hovered over the desk, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to reach out and touch the petals.
A tiny, secret curve tugged at the corner of her mouth before she remembered where she was.
So worth it.
She looked up, her gaze sweeping over the sea of students. When her eyes found mine, they weren't the eyes of a lecturer. They were dark, burning, and heavy with a restraint that made my pulse skip.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice smooth and clinical. "I hope your break was... restorative. Let’s begin."
Dr. Carter began her rounds, checking in on last term’s results. When she reached our table, my pulse became a riot. She spoke to Holly first, her voice hushed and encouraging, while I stared intensely at my notebook.
Then, she shifted. The air beside me grew heavy.
"Alex," she said.
Her voice was perfectly professional—crisp, academic, and entirely devoid of the "darling" that usually melted my spine. But as she leaned slightly over the table to look at my notes, the heat radiating from her was unmistakable.
"Your submissions for both modules were exemplary. Two Firsts. You’ve set a high bar for yourself this term. See that you maintain that discipline.”
I felt a surge of genuine pride, followed immediately by the smug realisation that I had also bagged the most incredible, lethal woman in the building.
"Thank you, Dr. Carter," I managed to say, my voice steady.
She lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary. Her hand rested briefly on the edge of the table, her index finger tapping once—a rhythmic signal meant only for me. It was a silent acknowledgment of the flower, the weekend, and the fact that she knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Keep up the work," she added, her eyes flicking to mine. For a split second, the cold mask slipped, revealing the fire beneath. Then she turned and moved to Mo, leaving me breathless in her wake.
When the seminar finally wound to a close, I kept my professional distance, packing my bag with efficiency. But as I reached the door, I looked back. Our eyes locked. As if sensing my gaze, she reached out, her long finger tracing the velvet edge of a rose petal with a slow, deliberate tenderness.
It was a promise, and I carried the heat of it all the way to the library.
I practically floated through the stacks, snagging a private work booth in the corner. I logged into the student portal to map out my deadlines for Economics, International Business, and Business Management.
Then, I saw it. I clicked into the results tab for my other modules. My breath hitched. Firsts. Every single one of them. A clean sweep of top marks across the board.
The realisation hit me like a physical weight.
I really was not just a pretty little thing on Dr. Carter's arm, and I was not just a girl from a council estate trying to keep the lights on.
I was actually, undeniably, brilliant. For the first time, the "gilded pond" Mia had mentioned didn't feel like something I was drowning in—it felt like something I had earned the right to swim in.
I leaned back in the booth, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. I wanted to text Carrie. I wanted to run back to her office. But instead, I opened a blank document and started typing. Discipline, she had said. I would show her exactly how disciplined I could be.
I was highlighting references when a sharp knock on the glass door nearly made me jump out of my skin.
I turned to see a face I had almost managed to scrub from my memory. Billie opened the door with a soft, hesitant smile. I raised an eyebrow, watching her slide onto the bench opposite me, the small booth instantly filling with the floral scent of her perfume.
“Hi,” she said softly.
I just stared at her, my mind a sudden explosion. The last time we were alone, I was using her as a weapon—a way to punish both myself and Dr. Carter. With everything that had happened since, I had completely forgotten she existed.
I swallowed hard. “Hey.”
She smirked, her eyes dancing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Alex.”
“Sorry. I was just... miles away.”
"I can see that." She glanced at the organised mess of my notes. “Did you have a good holiday?”
“It was better than I expected, actually,” I said, keeping it vague.
“What about you, Blondie? Have a good Christmas?”
She blushed at the nickname, and I immediately wanted to kick myself. Fucking idiot. I was sending mixed signals I had no business sending. Why would I even want to charm her when I had a goddess waiting for me?
"I just wanted to see you," Billie said, her voice dropping a fraction as she leaned in. "I emailed you over the break, but I never heard back. I was worried I’d done something wrong."
"You didn't," I said, my voice tight. I gently shifted my leg, breaking the contact between our knees beneath the table. "I just had a lot going on. Family stuff. I wasn't really on my phone."
Billie watched me, her smile faltering. "Right. Family stuff." She looked down at my laptop, her expression turning a bit more daring. "Well, you're here now. And you look like you need a break. I was thinking maybe…you would want to come to my office, or come back to mine for a coffee?”
My heart stopped. This was the moment where the old Alex would have jumped at the chance to escape the pressure. But all I could think about was the single red rose sitting on a desk and the woman who had warned me that she doesn't like to share.
We had kept this in the dark for a reason. Carrie was a high-profile academic and I was a student; one wrong move and her career was a smoking crater. And Billie? Billie wasn’t just some woman; she was a member of the faculty assisting in Carrie’s department.
"Billie," I started, my voice low. I needed to cut the cord. "I can't. I... I'm not the same person I was before the break. Things have changed. I’ve changed."
Billie’s brow furrowed, her hand reaching out across the table. "What do you mean? Alex, talk to me. If this is about—"
"It's about me," I interrupted, pulling my hands back into my lap. "I’m seeing someone. Someone... serious. And I can't keep doing this with you. It’s not fair to you, and it’s definitely not okay for me anymore."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Billie’s face fell, the soft hope in her eyes hardening into realisation.
But then, something shifted. The softness vanished, replaced by something much darker than I expected. Beneath the table, her leg moved again—not a graze this time, but a slow, purposeful stroke against mine.
I froze. She tilted her head, watching my reaction with a steady, calculating gaze that made my skin crawl. What the fuck was she doing? Panic clawed at my throat. I expected her to stumble over her words, to hurry away in embarrassment. I didn't expect this sudden, bold defiance.