The last time I stepped foot on a university campus, I was the one giving lectures. Not for the paycheck, but because I'd donated half the building. But now I was back, neither as a professor nor as a guest speaker, but as a student. Well, technically, I'd enrolled just to audit a few classes.
All thanks to a "generous contribution", yet again, to the university's underfunded Cultural History Research Program, I'd managed to infiltrate the campus. That—and a little help from Dom, who'd pulled a few strings here and there.
The Golden Cross campus smelled like anxiety, sex, and new beginnings. Golden, yes, but in no way resembled the way of the Cross. Here, students moved in loose herds across the open courtyard.
First to draw your eye were the ones laughing while sweating through their activewear. Then you'd be distracted by familiar faces—people you'd bumped into at least once or twice at the clubs. After that, you wouldn't even be surprised to see students making out so publicly. It wasn't news to anyone that the school had no strict policies on excessive PDA.
Near the student services hub, the campus news played on a flat-screen TV. A student reporter's voice cut through the background noise:
"—the sixth body found this month in the hinterland, prompting questions from locals and pressure on authorities for clearer answers. Uni admin has declined to comment on whether any of the victims were students..."
I looked away before the footage of the tree line could load. I didn't come here for corpses. I came here for someone living.
"For the meantime, authorities are urging the public to avoid entering restricted bushland zones without supervision…" The broadcast faded behind me as I stepped away.
I continued to walk through the sleek, modern buildings. Dom met me at the steps of the admin wing, holding out a stack of documents like this was any other Monday.
"You're late," he said dryly.
"I was considering not showing up," I replied, glancing around. "Do they always smell this... hormonal?"
Dom's eyes didn't move from the papers. "They're mammals in heat. What were you expecting?"
"Certainly not the pheromones, but… it is what it is, I guess."
He tucked the folder under one arm and handed me an ID card. It had my face on it.
"You're auditing a Business Strategy unit. The professor owes me a favor. If you want, you can sit in one of my lectures too."
"Yours?" I raised a brow. "Not sure I want to watch you impress girls with your intellectual striptease."
Dom didn't look up. "I don't need to strip. Some of us attract attention with the intellect alone."
I scoffed, but before I could toss something back, he added, "She's in my class, by the way."
My head turned. "Wait—Eleanor?"
Dom finally glanced at me, you could trace amusement on his face. "Try not to sulk. She signed up before either of us showed up."
As we walked toward the business building, I scanned the passing students. So many faces. None of them hers. What if she's not even in this department?
"If you're wondering whether she's in this department—she is," Dom said. "Her major is Wellness Business and Design. You'll meet again soon enough."
"How do you know?"
He shrugged. "I asked."
I stopped. "You spoke to her?"
"I spoke to the registrar," he said, like that was remotely the same thing.
Of course Dom wouldn't give anything away. He always liked watching the game unfold, especially when he wasn't the one playing. And although it was subtle, still, his tone had shifted. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was interested. And if that was true, I was going to have a bigger problem than I thought.
I rationalized this whole charade as an information-gathering mission. I needed to be within close proximity, and so here I was—cosplaying as someone chasing knowledge. Truth be told, in the past, I'd done worse to get less. But I wasn't blind to the truth hiding in the folds of logic. I knew I was chasing temptation.
This wasn't just attraction or curiosity. Eleanor had unsettled something old and raw inside me. Something I couldn't name.
Dom's lecture was in one of the older halls on the far side of campus. I slipped in quietly that most students didn't even notice me slide into the back row. But she did.
Eleanor was already seated in the third row, off-center. She was wearing an oversized black t-shirt dress with her dark, golden hair twisted up. Her fingers were idly twirling a pen. She didn't turn, but I felt the flicker of her awareness the second I entered the room. Like she knew. Not who I was, no, but that I was watching.
I kept my gaze on her but she never turned around.
She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs beneath that loose dress like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nothing revealing, no. Just the casual stretch—glk—of the thigh… and the slow drag of fabric.
My eyes lingered longer than they should've. It lingered until she turned slightly—just enough that I thought she might look back.
Shit.
I dropped my gaze, pretended to be interested in my phone. Didn't want to be a creep even more than I already felt like that one night we met at the club.
Dom stood at the front, scribbling something onto the whiteboard about dualism in pre-Christian faith systems. His tone was flat, composed, and familiar. I'd heard him give variations of this lecture in six countries and languages. But today, something was different.
His eyes scanned the room, cataloguing faces with his usual cool detachment—until they reached Eleanor. And then they stayed, maybe just a second too long. He didn't say anything. But I caught it, that pause.
My jaw clenched.
Dom was above this sort of thing, I thought. Above humans. Above indulgence. He studied people like texts—annotated them, decoded their sins. But what if even he wasn't immune to her? And that... that would be dangerous, I concluded.