3. Chapter 2
NATHAN
What a joy.
I was having a relatively good day and wasn’t about to let some dripping mess ruin it.
He shoved past me to get out first, leaving a damp mark on my jacket sleeve. All I caught was his wet blond hair before he disappeared down the hall.
I waited a few seconds and took a deep breath before exiting the elevator and heading to my classroom, where I’d left a file with notes on my incoming class and future assignments.
It was a short walk, located just across the hall.
I opened the door, and there he was.
The stranger from the elevator, in all his wet glory.
Sitting with his phone, glaring at the screen before turning that same glare on me.
I ignored him as I crossed the room.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “The professor sent a last-minute email. No class today.”
I froze as he stood and stretched. His shirt rode up, revealing a strip of pale skin, and I quickly looked away.
“What a moron. Could’ve told us earlier instead of wasting our time.”
I had sent two separate emails, one yesterday, another this morning, but he didn’t strike me as the type to check. For goodness’ sake, he was soaking wet. Hadn’t even checked the weather forecast earlier.
I hoped he wasn’t this incompetent as a student, or else he was not going to have a rough time in my class.
He rolled his eyes, then glanced around like he’d only just realized we were alone. His posture was put on the offensive immediately.
“Wait. Did you follow me, you sick freak?” he blurted, standing up and backing up. “What’s your problem?”
I raised my hand. “I didn’t follow you. I was coming here too.”
“I don’t believe you. There’s no one here. You followed me from the elevator. What, you wanted to get me alone? You try anything, I’ll—”
“Calm down,” I said, letting my professor voice take over, the same tone that quiets a room without raising the volume.
His reaction was immediate. A hundred to zero, like watching a match flare and burn out in seconds.
Volatile. Impulsive. That kind of swing makes for trouble in a classroom.
And outside of it.
Still… there was something in the way he held that heat, like he could summon it again just as fast. It pulled at my attention longer than it should have.
He went still, jaw tightening before he swallowed, eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m Mr. Thorne. This is my class.” I say, gesturing to the room, “and I was just retrieving my file.” His eyes widened as he looked me over. “Nobody is following you–I can assure you.”
He remained slack, his eyes lingering over me as I gathered my documents.
“Ever heard of a one-day notice?” He asked, though he couldn’t keep that bite from his tone.
“If you checked your email earlier….” I began, shoving the papers in my satchel, “You would know I sent multiple emails announcing class was postponed today.”
The blond’s throat bobbed, like he’d lost his words.
“I—I…” He coughed, cleared his throat, then shook his head. A small smile tugged at his mouth, one meant to disarm, but the tick in his jaw betrayed him.
My heart skipped despite myself. His green eyes caught the light, his teeth perfect and bright. For a moment, the room seemed to still around us.
This is the absolute worst combination in a human being: one who knew he was pleasing to look at and used it.
He stepped closer, smile still in place. Very, very forced. “Sorry, Professor, I hope you can forgive me for you know—.”
“Referring to me as a moron or calling me a sick freak?” I deadpaned, though mentally I regretted the words as soon as they came out.
It was a low blow, but his earlier attitude still lingered beneath my skin.
How juvenile of me.
He tugged absently at his bottom lip and glanced down. His expression suggested embarrassment, but something in his posture didn’t quite align. His hands tightened into fists. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves… or something else entirely.
“Yes. Sorry about that, and the elevator, and getting your coat wet… just.” He exhaled, a quick, almost nervous sigh. “Just everything. It’s my first day here.”
As he leaned in a little, his words carried the faint scent of spearmint.
I stepped back on instinct, but he followed. My hip brushed the edge of a desk.
Relax. He’s just a student.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Professor.” His gaze lifted to mine, green eyes sparkling. “I’m so”—there was something in his voice, not quite nameable—“excited to be in your class.”
When he let go, it struck me how close we’d been, and that I’d noticed at all.
Up close, his lashes were long, freckles dusted his nose, and his lips were pink. His damp hair stuck up in soft tufts. He was conventionally attractive. And he stood close enough to make the air feel heavier.
I stepped back again. “No hard feelings. I’m sure you were just having a bad day.”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said quickly. “That, and being soaked. It sucks.”
The way he said it, half grimace, half hope, slipped under my guard before I knew what I was doing. My hands were already at my scarf, pulling it free. When I draped it around his neck, the edge of it brushed his jaw, cool skin under my fingers. I should have stepped back, but I didn’t.
“You don’t have to—” His voice dropped, softer than before.
“You looked cold,” I said, straightening the ends. “Can’t have one of my students getting sick this early in the semester.”
My hands twitched.
Why did I do that? Especially after the attitude he's been giving me, was I really that influenced by the halo effect? Me?
He hesitated, then smiled, smaller, but it reached his eyes this time. I didn’t comment on the noticeable exhale he let out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I started leaving and so did he, it was a bit awkward going in the same direction. I noticed through the hallway windows that it had gotten significantly much darker in the span of 10 minutes.
I turned to him. He was still visibly cold, his arms wrapped around himself.
Fuck.
“Do you need a ride?” The words were out before I’d fully decided if I even wanted to offer. “It'll be faster and you can get warmed up a whole lot quicker.”
He glanced over, hesitated, then said, “Yeah.”
At the elevator, he hit the 1 button. His hands were flushed red from the cold.
“Are your hands cold?” I asked.
He pulled them from his pockets, palms turned up as if offering proof. “A little.”
Then he stepped closer. My back shifted against the rail before I realized he was just pressing his palm to my cheek. Cold, startling, lingering for a second longer than the gesture needed.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost smiling. “Pretty cold.”
I slid my gloves over his hand, fastening them at the wrists. He stayed still, eyes locked on mine, like he was taking in my reaction.
“There you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Wow… you have big hands,” he commented, his tone light but edged with something I couldn’t place, “the gloves hardly fit.”
“Yeah, how would I teach without these bad boys?”
He chuckled politely. “Oh, I’m sure they’re so helpful.” His voice carried a shade of something, but before I could overthink it, I was walking him toward my car.
Once we were in the car, I cranked the heater, hoping to thaw him out. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him sniff my scarf.
Did it smell bad? I’d just washed it.
“You have a nice car,” he said, genuine surprise in his voice. “I thought teachers didn’t make that much?”
I chuckled at the bluntness, glancing at the road as the wipers swept away streaks of rain. “They don’t. I’m just good at managing my money.”
“Oh. Cool.” He flipped down the passenger sun visor, checking himself out in the tiny mirror.
The quiet stretched for a moment, only broken by the heater’s low hum. He fiddled with my scarf, winding the ends around his fingers.
“Sorry. I’m not usually like this,” he blurted, his voice edged with self-consciousness.
“Like what?” I asked casually, spotting the dorm buildings up ahead. “You said you lived in the B section dorms, right?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, brushing past the question. I didn’t press.
I stopped in front of the building he pointed out as his dorm. He turned toward me, smiling.
Forced, again.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. In the muted glow from the dorm lights, his cheekbones looked sharper, his damp hair caught the light in subtle streaks, and his moss-green eyes seemed darker.
Somehow, I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe I’d been too focused on his attitude earlier, or the fact that he was dripping wet.
But now… now I could admit he was far more than just conventionally attractive.
Striking. His slightly upturned nose gave him an almost innocent edge, while his features were proportional in a way that made them almost unnervingly pleasant to look at.
Just an objective observation.
Thanks for the ride. And… you know. Everything.” His mouth curved up just enough to pass for a smile, but his eyes had that hollow weight again, the kind that didn’t come from the day, but from something older, heavier, and a little cracked.
“Of course,” I said.
And then he was out of the car, my scarf still around his neck. I could have called after him, asked for it back. He wasn’t even halfway to the door yet. But I didn’t.
He’s cold, I told myself. I’ll get it back in class.
***
When I finally got home, Lilly was waiting and not happy.
“You said twenty minutes, tops.”
I hung my coat and sighed. “I gave a student a ride.”
Wrapping my arms around her from behind, I hugged her. She scoffed but kept stirring the vodka sauce.
“Smells good, sweetheart.”
She chuckled. “Why’d you give a student a ride? You never do that.”
“He was soaking wet and—”
“He? Oh, thank God.” She turned, looping her arms over my shoulders. “I thought you picked up some sexy cheerleader or something.”
I scoffed and kissed her neck. “Wow. Thanks.”
Her gaze flicked over me. “Where’s your scarf?”
“I let him borrow it.”
“Mmh.” She hummed, her tone unreadable. “You’re too nice sometimes.”
I scoffed and pulled Lilly toward me, pressing her onto the table.
But even as her smile widened, my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
When had I ever done that before? Given a student a ride? Offered my scarf?
And why did that forced little smile keep replaying in my head?
Had I made him uncomfortable? Or was that smile just a default setting for him?
I realized then, I hadn’t even asked his name.
It didn’t matter, he was my student, so I’d find out soon enough.
Lilly’s blue eyes were bright, brimming with feeling.
His weren’t. They’d been stripped of it, like something had hollowed him out.
My scarf was probably still wrapped around his neck. Probably smelled like him now.
And I couldn’t decide if that unsettled me… or if I wanted it to.