Chapter 3: A Dangerous Proximity
The weeks that followed were an exercise in restraint. James Calloway buried himself in his work, immersing himself in lectures, grading, and faculty meetings in an attempt to silence the persistent awareness of Lily Carter. But it was impossible.
She was in every classroom discussion, her voice laced with sharp insight. She was in the quiet moments between classes, when his mind wandered to the way she leaned in slightly when she debated a point, or the way she bit the end of her pen when lost in thought. She was in the lingering glances that neither of them should have exchanged, but somehow always did.
And now, she was here, in the dim glow of the campus café, sitting across from him at a table too small for comfort.
It had started as an innocent moment. James had come in to grab a late coffee after an exhausting faculty meeting, not expecting to see her tucked away in a corner, her books spread out around her like a fortress. She had looked up, eyes widening slightly before she smiled, an invitation he should have ignored. But then she had gestured toward the empty chair across from her, and before he could think better of it, he had sat down.
"I didn't take you for a coffee-at-midnight kind of man, Professor," Lily mused, stirring her cappuccino.
James smirked. "And I didn't take you for a student who prefers studying in dimly lit cafés rather than the library."
She leaned back in her chair. "There's something different about this place. The noise, the warmth… it makes everything feel less rigid."
He knew what she meant. The atmosphere here was softer than the stark academic setting. It felt… removed from the rules they lived by.
Too removed.
He shifted in his seat. "You're working on your thesis?"
She nodded, pushing a highlighted manuscript toward him. "I wanted to expand on our discussion from last class. I think I've found a way to argue that the contradictions in modern romantic literature reflect the instability of contemporary relationships."
James scanned the text, genuinely impressed. "It's a compelling argument. Your analysis of emotional dissonance is particularly strong."
Lily studied him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her cup. "Do you think that's true? That relationships today are inherently unstable?"
James hesitated. "I think modern relationships exist in a world that constantly shifts beneath them. Expectations, commitments, personal ambitions—none of them are static."
"So love has to evolve to survive?" she asked, her voice quiet.
He met her gaze. "I suppose it does."
A silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken thoughts, with things neither of them should have been contemplating. The café hummed around them, the low murmur of voices and clinking cups an intimate backdrop to their dangerous conversation.
James cleared his throat. "You have a strong paper here, Lily. Keep refining it."
She exhaled a quiet laugh, sitting back. "Back to professionalism already?"
He shot her a pointed look. "It's for the best."
Lily studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Right. Of course."
She turned her attention back to her notes, and James took that as his cue to leave. He stood, sliding his chair back carefully. "Good night, Miss Carter."
Her lips twitched. "Good night, Professor Calloway."
As he walked away, he forced himself not to look back.
---
James knew better than to put himself in situations like that again, but the universe seemed intent on testing him. The following week, the Literature Department held its annual symposium, an event that drew professors and students together for discussions, panels, and intellectual debates. It was one of his favorite times of the semester—normally.
This year, however, it felt different.
The reception hall was filled with faculty and students, all mingling over glasses of wine and plates of hors d'oeuvres. James had been deep in conversation with a colleague when he caught sight of Lily across the room.
She had dressed for the occasion—a sleek black dress that was far too elegant for a student event. She stood with a group of graduate students, laughing at something one of them had said, but James saw the way her gaze flickered toward him, as if she was just as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
Before he could stop himself, he excused himself from his colleague and made his way to the bar, needing a moment to gather his thoughts.
Lily found him first.
"Professor," she greeted, her tone deliberately light. "Enjoying the evening?"
He glanced at her, trying to keep his expression neutral. "It's an interesting event, as always."
She leaned against the bar, studying him. "You don't have to be so formal, you know. We're at a social event."
James tensed. "It's still an academic setting."
She smiled. "So rigid."
His jaw tightened. "Lily—"
"I know," she interrupted, tilting her head. "Boundaries."
She said it lightly, but there was something in her eyes—something that told him she understood the tension between them just as well as he did.
Before he could respond, another professor approached them, effectively ending their moment. Lily gave him one last look before slipping back into the crowd, leaving James gripping his drink with a force he shouldn't have needed.
He was losing control.
And he knew it.
---
The night ended without any further incidents, but James couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. It was in the way she looked at him now, in the way he could no longer pretend that his growing awareness of her was anything other than dangerous.
As he walked back to his office that night, he made a silent vow to himself.
This had to stop.
But as he unlocked his office door and stepped inside, he found himself thinking of her once again.
And deep down, he feared it was already too late.