Ethan’s head snapped up from his desk, where he’d been fussing with a stack of papers like they held the secrets to the universe. His eyes locked onto mine, wide and startled. For a second, he looked wrecked, all soft edges and raw nerves, but then he straightened, that calm professor mask slipping back into place.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice low, a little rough around the edges. “Let’s… uh, let’s take this to my office. More private there.”
My stomach did a slow, queasy roll. His office? The last time I’d been there, he’d dumped me like yesterday’s trash, leaving me to stumble out with a heart in shards.
Great idea, Aria. Follow the guy who broke you back into the lion’s den. What could go wrong?
 But my feet moved anyway, traitorously trailing him as he grabbed his bag and headed for the door.
The hallway buzzed with life. Students chattering, sneakers squeaking, the usual Inkwell chaos but I kept my distance, a solid five feet between us as we walked. Ethan’s broad shoulders cut through the crowd, his stride steady, while I lagged behind, my sneakers scuffing the tile like I was dragging chains. My eyes darted around, half-expecting someone to notice, to whisper,
“Oh, look, is there something going on between Professor Ramsey and Aria?”
The thought made my skin crawl.
Then I saw them... Aiden and Arkin, strolling the opposite way, their heads turning like they’d caught a whiff of drama in the air. Aiden’s eyes narrowed, questions flickering in them, while Arkin’s brow furrowed, all quiet concern. They tracked me, their gazes heavy, and I felt my cheeks burn.
Crap, crap, crap. 
I flicked my good hand in a quick wave, a silent of 'I’m fine, we're just going to talk, chill,' praying they’d buy it and not storm over like my personal bodyguards. Aiden’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, and they kept walking, though I could feel their eyes on me until we rounded the corner.
Ethan pushed open his office door, the creak of it swinging wide hitting me like a déjà vu gut punch. The last time I’d stood here, my world had imploded, his voice cold, “We can’t do this anymore,” ringing in my ears as I’d bolted out, tears blurring the hallway.
Now, the room looked the same... cluttered desk, bookshelves groaning with dusty tomes, that faint coffee-and-wood scent that used to feel like home.
My chest tightened, a flood of memories clawing at me, and I had to fight the urge to turn and run. Bad idea, Aria. Worst idea ever. Why did I agree to this?
“Take a seat,” Ethan said, his voice softer now, gesturing to the chair across from his desk as he dropped his bag and sank into his own.
I hesitated, my legs stiff like they were plotting a rebellion, then plopped down awkwardly, perching on the edge like I might bolt any second.
My arm that has just been healed rest against the armrest, a reminder of how messed up everything had gotten.
This is so dumb. I should’ve said no, should’ve kept walking, should’ve— 
But it was too late now. I was here, stuck, with Ethan staring at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
He cleared his throat, leaning forward, his hands folding on the desk like he was about to deliver some big professor speech. “So… about your seatwork from class,” he started, his tone all business, but there was this edge to it, like he was tiptoeing around a landmine.
I blinked, caught off guard. “My… seatwork?” Seriously? That’s what this is about?
“Yeah.” He slid a paper across the desk, my messy handwriting staring back at me like a crime scene.
'Narrator’s unreliable, just like some people.'
My stomach dropped as he tapped it with his finger, his eyes flicking up to mine, intense and searching. “What did you mean by this? ‘Narrator’s unreliable, just like some people.’ Were you… talking about me?”
My face burned, hot and fast, and I wanted to sink through the floor. Of course he’d zero in on that. it was a terrible answer for my seatwork. I’d scribbled it in a fit of frustration, his stupid glances, those buzzing texts turning my brain to mush and now here it was, laid bare like some angsty diary entry.
“It’s… just a figure of speech,” I muttered, crossing my arms, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, literary flair. Don’t read into it.”
His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but he didn’t let it go. “It’s not your best work, Aria. You’re smarter than this. I’m giving you a chance to redo it. Pass it to me tomorrow.”
I bristled, my jaw dropping as indignation flared up my spine. “Redo it? Are you kidding me? That’s—” I stopped, biting back the rant clawing up my throat. My answer was crap, yeah, all sloppy and bitter, but it was his fault. He’d been staring at me like some creepy stalker, texting me mid-class like a lunatic, throwing me off my game. “Fine,” I snapped, snatching the paper and shoving it into my bag. “Whatever. I’ll fix it. Happy now?”
He didn’t answer, just watched me with those damn eyes, steady and unreadable, like he was peeling back my layers one by one.
My skin prickled, the air between us buzzing with something I couldn’t shake... anger, sure, but something softer too, something that made my chest ache.
Stop looking at me like that, you jerk. Stop making me feel things.
He shifted, leaning back in his chair, his voice dropping lower, gentler. “How are you, Aria? After the accident. Have you recovered completely?”
I stared at him, my guard slamming up hard. “I’m fine,” I said, flat and clipped, my fingers digging into my bag strap. “Wrist’s healed, head’s okay. No big deal.”
He nodded, slow and careful, like he was testing fragile ground. “Good. I’m… I’m glad. I was worried.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the concern,” I shot back, sarcasm lacing every word, because if I didn’t keep it sharp, I’d crack.
Worried? You don’t get to be worried, not after—

 I cut the thought off, shoving it down deep, and leaned forward, my voice tight. “Look, Ethan, what’s this really about? You said you needed to tell me something. What is it? And what’s with the ‘I miss you’ text? What does that even mean?”
The room went still, the air thickening as his eyes widened, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, then shut it, his hands flexing on the desk like he was wrestling with something big.
My heart thudded, suspense curling tight in my gut, waiting for the bomb to drop.
Say it, Ethan. Say something real for once.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rough, like it hurt to get out. “I meant it, Aria. I miss you.”
I froze, my breath snagging in my throat, those three words slamming into me like a freight train.
He misses me? My head spun, a dizzying mix of shock and fury and damn it, a hope I didn’t want to feel.
“Why?” I demanded, my voice rising, sharp and shaky. “Why would you say that? What’s the point?”
He went silent again, his gaze dropping to his hands, his jaw working like he was chewing on an answer he couldn’t spit out.
My chest heaved, frustration boiling over, and I leaned closer, my words slicing through the quiet.“Ethan, answer me! Why miss me when you’re with Professor Davies? When you dumped me like I was nothing? What’s your deal?”
He flinched, his eyes flicking back to mine, but he brushed it off, dodging like he always did. “That’s… not what I wanted to talk about,” he said, his voice steadying, deflecting. “Your family...  specifically Kai, he asked me to keep tutoring you. After the accident, he wants me to watch you closely, make sure you’re okay.”
My jaw dropped, a fresh wave of annoyance crashing over me. “What?” I snapped, my voice climbing an octave, dripping with sarcasm. “Tutoring? What does that have to do with anything? I don’t need tutoring, Ethan! I’m smart enough to handle my own crap, and I’m not some kid who needs babysitting!”
He didn’t back down, leaning forward now, his tone firm but laced with that infuriating calm. “I know it’s awkward, Aria... for both of us. But I think Kai’s right. After what happened, it’s not a bad idea to have someone looking out for you.”
I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed off the walls, my hands flying up in exasperation. “Awkward? No, it doesn’t! It’s a terrible idea! I don’t want you tutoring me, Ethan! I don’t want you anywhere near me! But, oh, wait—let me guess, I don’t have a choice, right? Because my family’s always shoving me at you like I’m some helpless little girl who can’t tie her own shoes!”
My voice was loud now, dramatic and biting, and I didn’t care who heard.
Why does Kai keep doing this? Why does my family treat me like I’m still ten?

They’re so protective, always have been. Mom with her doctor hovering, Dad with his soccer-dad rules, Kai with his big-brother bossiness, Allie with her lawyer glare and demands and I hate it. Hate how they never ask me, just assume and just decide.
Ethan’s eyes softened, but he didn’t budge, his voice steady as ever. “Aria, I get it. It’s not ideal. But Kai didn’t ask you because he’s worried, he saw you lying in the hospital, unconscious, and it scared the hell out of him. Out of all of us. He trusts me to—”
“To what?” I cut in, my tone sharp enough to slice glass, my chest heaving with frustration. “To watch me like some fragile doll? I’m not fragile, Ethan! I’m 22, not 12! I can take care of myself, and if Kai’d bothered to ask, I’d have told him no! But no, he goes straight to you, because my family’s always pushing me at you, always treating me like I need saving! If they knew what you did... if they knew you broke me, they’d never pull this crap!”
The words spilled out, hot and wild, and I clamped my mouth shut, my breath ragged, my eyes burning. Ethan froze, his face paling like I’d slapped him, and for a second, the room was dead silent, the air crackling with everything I’d just thrown at him.
He opened his mouth, then shut it, his hands flexing on the desk like he was grasping for something to say. “Aria,” he started, his voice low, rough, “I—”
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off, my voice trembling but fierce. “Don’t. Just… don’t. I don’t want your excuses. I don’t want your tutoring. I just want to move on, Ethan. Peacefully, quietly, without you popping up every five seconds to mess with my head! But I can’t, because my family keeps dragging you back into my life, and I’m so sick of it!”
My chest heaved, my hands shaking as I stand up and shoved my chair back, the legs screeching against the floor.
This was a mistake. I knew it. I should’ve run when I had the chance.

My head was a mess, anger, hurt, that stupid fluttery ache I couldn’t kill and I couldn’t stay here, couldn’t let him see me unravel.
He stood too, his eyes wide, pleading, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. “Aria, wait—”
“No!” I barked, slinging my bag over my shoulder, my voice rising to a dramatic, sarcastic peak. “I’m done waiting! Done listening! Done with you and your cryptic texts and your sad puppy eyes! I’m rewriting that stupid seatwork because I have to, but this? Us talking? It’s over. Tell Kai whatever you want, I don’t care! Just leave me out of it!”
I stormed to the door, my sneakers pounding the floor, my heart thudding so loud it drowned out everything else.
My hand hit the knob, yanking it open, and I was halfway through when his voice stopped me, soft and desperate, slicing right through my resolve.
“Aria, please. I’m sorry.”
I froze, my back to him, my breath hitching as those words hung there, heavy and raw.
Sorry? Sorry for what? My chest fluttered, warm and stupid, and I hated it. Hated how it made me want to turn back, to demand every answer he’d dodged. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“Save it,” I muttered, my voice low, biting, dripping with sarcasm. “You’re good at being sorry after the fact, Ethan. Too bad it doesn’t change anything.”
I didn’t look back. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. I slammed the door behind me, the bang echoing down the hall like a gunshot, and bolted, my steps fast and shaky, the buzzing chaos of students blurring around me.
My heart was a storm, thrilling, suspenseful, shattering all at once.
He misses me. He’s sorry. The words looped in my head, soft and treacherous, clawing at the walls I’d built to keep him out. But I wouldn’t let them in. I couldn’t. Not again.
I walk through the quad, the crisp fall air slapping my face, and kept moving, my sneakers crunching leaves as I ran from him, from that office, from the mess he kept dragging me back into. Zianne and Jiro were right, I wasn’t over him, not even close. But I’d fake it ‘til I made it, shove him out of my life one step at a time.
Because if I didn’t, that fluttery, dramatic, bittersweet ache would pull me under, and I wasn’t sure I’d climb back out.