Page 61 of Stranger to Love

I lifted my head as Ms. Davies walked into the room.

Billie was wearing a form-fitting, dark green knit dress that contrasted sharply with her long blonde hair, which fell loosely over her shoulders today. Her hazel eyes glinted with a distinct, quiet confidence as she cradled a stack of departmental textbooks against her chest. I offered a stiff, professional nod to the department aid as she walked over, approaching my desk with a pleasant smile.

“The third-year evaluation quizzes from last week have all been finalised and marked, Dr. Carter,” Billie murmured, her voice hushed to avoid disrupting the students still completing their worksheets. “And I wanted to apprise you that my scheduling has shifted slightly for the upcoming term. A first-year undergraduate has qualified for advanced learning support, so I will be sitting adjacent to them during your larger lecture blocks to assist.”

“Thank you, Ms. Davies. Ensure the quiz metrics are logged into the portal by noon,” I replied.

My voice was perfectly measured, but in reality, I was barely processing her words. My focus had been entirely hijacked. From the corner of my eye, I had caught the exact moment Alex looked up from her notebook the second Billie crossed the threshold.

I watched, my jaw locking so hard it ached, as Alex’s blue eyes openly and methodically traced over the curves of Ms. Davies’ green dress. It was a slow, practiced appraisal—the kind of lingering look that made a sudden, dark fury ignite in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't blind. I had noticed the subtle undercurrents between them before on campus. I had seen the lingering glances, the unnecessary proximity in the corridors—not to mention the fact that I knew Billie had slipped Alex some sort of private note in passing the previous week. My mind scrambled violently with the implications, calculating the hidden depths of their dynamic, and the rage only intensified when Billie turned to head back toward the exit.

As Ms. Davies walked away, the cocky, familiar smirk on Alex’s face grew.

Perhaps Billie had mouthed something to her. Perhaps she had flashed her a subtle wink. Whatever the micro-interaction was, it had been explicitly enough to make Alex feel entirely pleased with herself, her ego instantly stroked by the department aid’s attention.

A sudden wave of bitter, unforgiving regret surged through my veins. A dark, possessive voice in my head explicitly cursed my own morality. I regretted my restraint over the weekend with a sudden, agonising intensity. I regretted not opening that bathroom door. I regretted not taking her right there against my kitchen island on Saturday night—ensuring, with absolute physical finality, that the girl knew exactly where she belonged. Who she belonged to.

Ms. Davies quickly slipped out of the classroom, the heavy door clicking shut behind her, and the second she vanished, Alex’s smug expression instantly dropped.

Her smirk faded into a look of genuine confusion, her brows knitting together as she stared back down at her blank notebook, looking thoroughly annoyed by whatever silent message Billie had actually conveyed.

Ah. I caught the shift immediately, a cold wave of clarity settling over my irritation. Perhaps I didn’t have quite as much to worry about regarding Ms. Davies as my pride had assumed.

But the possessive, territorial heat in my chest refused to subside. A second later, Alex lifted her chin, her eyes darting back to the front of the room to seek out my face.

When her eyes found mine, I didn't soften my features. I looked directly at her, giving her an icy, detached stare that deliberately promised absolute retribution, before dismissively looking away toward my laptop. I knew it was irrational. I knew a woman of my academic standing should be entirely above such primitive, unvarnished jealousy.

The seminar concluded with the typical, chaotic rustle of papers and packing bags. I deliberately remained behind my desk, executing a series of precise, unnecessary keystrokes on my laptop to simulate deep preoccupation. From the periphery of my vision, I tracked Alex. She was dragging out her movements, packing her bag with an agonising, calculated slowness, clearly waiting for me to break character.

I kept my features stony, refusing her a single glance. When she finally realised I wouldn't accommodate her ego, she slung her bag over her shoulder and let out a dramatic roll of her eyes before marching out the door. Good. Let her stew in that chaotic, frustrated energy.

I waited precisely sixty seconds, slammed my laptop shut, retrieved my briefcase, and stepped out into the corridor. My intention was to return straight to my office to regain my focus, but as I turned the corner into the largely deserted hallway, I spotted a familiar blonde head further down the corridor. Ms. Davies.

Before I could even formulate the thought, the name left my lips at the exact same moment it left Billie’s.

“Alex!”

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. I caught the brief, telling twitch of her cheek as she slowly pivoted to face us—she was actively suppressing a laugh. I stood outside my classroom door, my posture rigid, while Billie stood a few feet further down the hallway. We both looked at Alex, then immediately levelled a pair of sharp, calculating side-eyes at one another.

“Yeah?” Alex smiled, her eyes darting between the two of us. The visible confusion and annoyance she’d felt minutes ago vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated amusement.

She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, offering us a wide, expectant grin that made my blood run hot. She knew exactly what this was. She was looking at the two of us as if we were a pair of apex predators circling the exact same piece of meat, entirely aware that she was the prize, and thoroughly enjoying the prospect of us ripping each other’s throats out over the first bite.

The sheer, arrogant audacity of the girl was infuriating. This was a game to her.

I broke the suffocating silence first, my voice clipped, professional, and entirely detached despite the sudden, tense coil in my shoulders. “Alex, a moment. I require a brief clarification regarding a specific point in your critical evaluation.”

Before Alex could even open her mouth to respond, Billie took a swift, aggressive step forward, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum as she closed the distance between us.

“Actually, Alex, I need a word with you first,” Billie interjected. Her smile was incredibly brittle, her hazel eyes flicking pointedly, defiantly up to meet mine. “It’s in regards to... a particular resource I was just discussing with Dr. Carter. It’s highly time-sensitive.”

My facial expression didn't alter, but my eyes narrowed fractionally. The underlying implication of Billie's tone was a direct challenge to my authority. I subtly tightened my grip on the handle of my leather briefcase.

“I am entirely confident that the resource—and its supposed time sensitivity—can wait until I have properly addressed a matter concerning current academic performance, Ms. Davies,” I countered, my voice dropping into a smooth register of pure silk-over-steel. I turned my head, directing the full, unyielding intensity of my gaze entirely onto Alex, pinning her to the spot. “Alex, I possess a distinct concern regarding your adherence to the brief’s constraints.”

Alex didn't blink. In fact, she leaned back against the corridor wall, crossing her arms directly over that midnight-black blouse. The posture was explicitly designed to push her breasts upward, a deliberate display that I was thoroughly, violently rejecting the urge to stare at.