Page 59 of Ashen Souls

“And failing?”

“Spectacularly.” A flush of embarrassment warmed my neck.

For a beat, his gaze remained thoughtful, analyzing the tension I was trying so hard to hide. Then he shifted the book under his arm, releasing the pressure of his scrutiny.

“What about you?” I asked quickly, desperate to turn the focus away from my own unraveling sanity. “Don’t tell me you grade mythology essays for fun.”

That earned me an authentic laugh.

“Not quite. I actually have the day off. A rare miracle.”

“Congratulations. What do you do with that kind of power?”

“I live nearby. Thought I’d grab a coffee before taking a walk.” He tilted his head, studying me. “It’s too quiet a day to spend in your own head.”

That observation hit a little too close to the bone.

“That sounds...” I hesitated, searching for the right word. Normal. Safe. Human. “...nice.”

“It is. Highly recommended.”

A fragile pause settled between us.

I realized I was still standing there, half-turned toward the exit, caught between the urge to bolt and the irrational desire to stay.

“Well.” I forced my feet to move. “I should probably let you get your coffee.”

His expression softened, and for a beat, I thought he was going to nod and let me walk away. But as I took a step toward the door, his voice stopped me.

“Aveline.”

I froze, turning my head to look back at him.

The sound of my first name, stripped of the professional distance, spoken in that deep register, shattered whatever armor I had left.

His eyes held mine.

“If you’re heading out anyway, and you’re not in a hurry... would you like to join me?” The invitation was casual, but his attention was absolute.

I hesitated.

“For coffee?” I asked. “Or the walk?”

“Both.” He didn't even blink.

In the grand scheme of the last forty-eight hours, having coffee with my professor barely registered on the scale of dangerous decisions. But it felt like crossing a line anyway.

“Isn’t this the part where you remind me about academic boundaries?” I challenged.

He stepped closer, invading my periphery just enough to make my pulse jump. “Is it?”

“Usually, yes.”

“And yet,” he countered, “you’re the one still standing by the door.”

A breath escaped me. “That’s hardly fair.”

“No,” he agreed, taking a slow half-step closer. “But it is honest.”