Page 87 of Stranger to Love

I couldn’t read her. Those dark eyes were a storm I couldn’t navigate, and for a second, I was terrified I had just walked back into this building only to be rejected properly this time. Fuck I was an idiot.

Dr. Carter’s gaze shifted to her office door for a heartbeat, her expression unreadable, before she looked back at me. The formidable, ice-cold professor was gone. In her place was someone who looked just as fragile as I felt.

"I—Alex," she started, her voice catching. She took a breath, steadying herself. "I haven't done this before, either."

I froze, my breath hitching in my throat.

"I have spent years perfecting the art of being untouchable," she said, her words slow and heavy with honesty. "My life is built on boundaries and professional distance. But this weekend... I let my guard down with you. I let you in, and seeing you standing in my kitchen this morning, looking like you couldn't wait to escape..." She shook her head, a bitter smile touching her lips. "It scared me, too. It terrified me."

I took a step toward her, the space between us feeling like a live wire. "You were scared?"

"Terrified," she whispered. "I didn't know how to be the person you saw in the dark and the person who has to stand at that podium. So I retreated. I went back to what I knew—the silence, the distance. I thought if I made myself cold again, I could pretend the last forty-eight hours were just... an indulgence. Like you said."

She looked at me then, her gaze searching mine, raw and pleading. "But then I saw you with her in that hall. I saw you leave with her. And I realised that pretending it didn't happen was significantly more painful than the fear of letting it continue."

I reached out, my hand trembling as I found hers. This time, I didn't let her pull away. I laced our fingers together, squeezing tight. "So we're both idiots," I murmured, a shaky laugh escaping me. "Two terrified idiots."

"It would appear so," she said, a flicker of that familiar, elegant warmth returning to her eyes as she stepped back into my space.

I looked at her, my voice barely a breath. "So... what do we do now?"

Dr. Carter let out a soft sigh, her shoulders dropping as she offered a helpless shrug. "I don’t know."

A shaky laugh bubbled up in my chest, and I had to bite my lip to keep it back. It was absurd. She was one of the most brilliant minds I had ever met, a woman who had an answer for every complex economic theory on the planet, and there we were; both of us completely stumped by the most basic human emotion.

Then, she smiled. Not the tight, professional curve she gave the lecture hall, but the real one—the one that radiated heat and made my knees feel like they had turned to water.

Just as quickly as it appeared, she pulled herself back together. The "Professor" mask wasn't fully back, but her focus was. She stepped away, her eyes flickering toward the office door as she began to efficiently pack her things. She slid her laptop into her bag and draped her coat over her arm, the movement graceful and sharp.

Without looking at me, a tiny smirk played on her lips. "Pick up your bag, Alex."

I blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden change in gear. "What?"

She walked to the door and pulled it open, the hallway beyond quiet and dimly lit. She paused, looking back at me over her shoulder with an impatient, playful tilt of her head. "Come on," she sighed, though there was a definite spark in her eyes that wasn't there ten minutes before.

I was so caught off guard that I practically tripped over my own feet. I scrambled to grab my backpack, swinging it over my shoulder with zero grace, and bolted toward the door to follow her before she could change her mind.

Whatever this was, and wherever we were going, I wasn’t fucking letting her out of my sight again.

Chapter 21

Alex

I followed her to the car in silence. We drove to her house in silence. Now, the only sound was the click of the lock as she let us back into the space I had fled yesterday. We shed our shoes and jackets, the quiet of the house wrapping around us like a heavy blanket.

We stood there for a moment in the entryway. She was a few inches shorter then without the heels but still taller than me—a height difference I had grown used to over the weekend, one that felt right. My heart was still pounding, aching with a self-inflicted wound I was desperate to heal. She stepped forward hesitantly, and I met her halfway. My hand found her waist, fingers light and cautious, still terrified that I might have lost the right to touch her.

Her hand came up to my cheek, and when our foreheads met, a tingle rushed down my spine that made my breath hitch. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek—I could feel the tension in her jaw—before she finally asked, “Can you stay for dinner?”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “Sure.”

She looked up at me, her eyes so soft and vulnerable it made me want to fucking scream at myself for ever making this incredible woman doubt herself. My phone vibrated in my pocket, shattering the moment. I sighed, and she stepped back instinctively.

“It’s okay, answer it,” she said, her professional mask flickering back for just a second. “I’ll start on dinner.” Her hand glided down my arm as she walked toward the kitchen, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

I pulled out my phone. It was Mum. Shit. I answered quickly, my voice tight. “Mum? Everything okay?”

“Hi love, yes, everything is fine,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than I expected. “Will you be home soon?”