Friday night at the diner was the kind of night where every table was full and the air was filled with chatter. Jessie was on stage, guitar in hand, pouring herself into her music when the door suddenly opened. Her eyes drifted to the entrance and nearly missed the beat.
Professor Harcourt.
She hadn't really believed him when he'd said something about her saving him a seat at the diner earlier. Yet here he was, slipping into the crowded room like he owned the place. His eyes were steady and unreadable, as if he was saying something to her without speaking a word.
When he smiled warmly and waved at her, something inside her came alive, jolting her senses awake. It was as though another part of her, one she didn't understand, rejoiced in his presence. She forced herself to finish the set, even as her heart tripped over itself.
After greeting a few friends, Jessie swapped her guitar for an apron and slipped behind the counter. She tried to focus on serving, but her gaze kept straying to him. He sat quietly, eating in silence, only breaking into the faintest smile whenever their eyes met. And every time, she felt heat rising in her cheeks.
He looks really different tonight. Too devastatingly good looking for her sanity. The kind of look that made her imagination run wild into places it shouldn't, especially with a man who was her professor.
By the time the diner emptied out, Jessie wanted to stay behind, hoping to practice on the guitar before heading back to campus. The owner gave her the keys and told her to lock up, leaving her alone in the silence.
Or so she thought.
When she turned, he was there again, standing in the doorway, watching her with those dark, commanding eyes that made her chest tighten. The room seemed smaller with him in it, the air heavier, like something had shifted and she wasn't sure she was ready for it.
He walked toward her, steady, unhurried, and stopped just close enough that she felt the pull of him.
"Sorry I barged in on you like that. I wanted to see if you need a ride home?" His voice was low, steady, and almost professional. Then, casually, he added, "My place is on the way. Close to campus."
He was simply offering her a free ride home. But the way he said it… it felt like more than just an offer.
Her breath caught.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked softly again, this time holding her gaze a lot longer than necessary. The question was threaded with something she didn't quite understand. Something final.
Jessie swallowed hard, heat flooding her cheeks. She knew the right and safest thing to do for herself right now would be to say no. He was her professor for crying out loud. This was crossing lines she shouldn't even be near. But when she met his eyes, all she managed was a shaky, "I'd… like that."
His gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat before a smile curved his lips. Slow. Knowing. And for reasons she couldn't explain, it felt like both a beginning… and an ending.
***
Jessie's fingers fumbled over the lock, the key rattling against the metal as rain pattered harder against the windows. She willed her hands to steady, but they wouldn't listen.
Then, suddenly, she felt his presence too close. Professor Harcourt stepped behind her, his warmth pressing lightly against her back. She froze, breath catching, as his hand brushed hers. With effortless ease, he slid the key from her trembling grip and turned the lock with a soft click.
He didn't step away. Not immediately. For one suspended moment, she felt his breath stir the loose strands of her hair.
The world outside had turned wild. Rain hammered the streets as he walked her to his car, holding the door open with quiet steadiness. Jessie slipped inside, her heart still racing, her hands clutching at the strap of her bag as though it might anchor her.
They drove in silence, but it wasn't awkward; it was charged, humming, and filled with everything unspoken.
"Which way?" he asked at last, his voice low, almost cautious, as they turned onto the highway.
Jessie's mouth was dry. Every sensible thought screamed to give him directions back to campus. But when she spoke, the words that tumbled out were not her own or perhaps, they were the truest she had ever spoken.
"Your place."
The look he gave her was fleeting, but enough. He didn't question, didn't argue. He simply drove faster, as though the rain itself urged them forward.
By the time they pulled into the driveway of his building, the storm was in full fury. Sheets of rain blurred the world outside, but Jessie barely noticed. He was already at her side, hand closing around hers, leading her with sure steps into the elevator.
The doors slid shut, sealing them away. And something inside her broke free. She didn't know how it happened or why, but suddenly she was in his arms, her legs around his waist, her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled his mouth to hers.
The kiss was wild, desperate, a surrender she hadn't known she was capable of. She'd never kissed anyone like this, never wanted to. Yet with him, it felt inevitable.
For a moment he let her lead, but then his strength shifted, his hands anchoring her, steadying her, reclaiming control. He kissed her back, deep and unrestrained, until the sharp chime of the elevator broke through the storm between them.
The doors slid open. They stilled, breathing hard, foreheads almost touching. Jessie's face flushed crimson as reality swept back in.
Neither spoke. Neither could as they stepped out together in silence. He guided her down the hall to his apartment, unlocked the door and stepped aside, letting her enter first.
Inside, she hesitated, nerves prickling under her skin. Everything about this moment felt too big, too close, too dangerous. She clutched her damp sleeves, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands or herself.
He noticed her discomfort and his sharp eyes softened, his voice tender as he said to her. "The washroom's down the hall to the left. Take a warm bath. I'll get you something dry to wear."
He went away briefly and returned with a folded shirt and pair of sweatpants that he handed to her with careful movement and reverence. The gesture alone loosened the knot in her chest.
"Thank you," Jessie murmured, her voice small but sincere.
When she returned, wrapped in his clothes and with her damp hair tumbling loose around her shoulders, he was in the kitchen setting out a tray. For a moment she simply watched him, framed in the glow of the overhead light, sleeves rolled to his elbows as though this was the most natural thing in the world, to take care of her.
Something inside her broke open and when he turned at last, she didn't wait for words. She crossed the room and ran into his arms, pressing a quick kiss against his lips; gentle, not frantic, but full of everything she couldn't say. She buried her face against his chest, clinging to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He held her like she was meant to fit there, as though his body had been made for this embrace and stood in silence until her stomach betrayed her by grumbling loudly enough to break the spell. She pulled back with a blush, and he chuckled low in his throat, the sound warm, unguarded.
"Sit," he said, guiding her to the table.
He served her carefully, watching as she ate, his gaze never straying from her. The weight of his eyes made her hands tremble around the fork and to steady herself, she lifted a bite to him.
He leaned forward, took it slowly, and caught her hand before she could pull it back. His lips brushed her fingers, lingering deliberately. Down to her knuckles. To her wrist. To the curve of her shoulder.
Jessie's breath hitched.
When his mouth neared the soft skin of her neck, a low growl escaped him, rough and unbidden, vibrating from somewhere deeper than human and for a split second, the mask of professor Barry slipped.
He stiffened, as if wrestling with himself. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted her easily into his arms.
Her wide, innocent eyes never left his face.
He carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently against the sheets, his forehead resting on hers as she quivered beneath him, not with fear, but with the weight of a yearning too great for words.
His hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt on her, brushing the warmth of her skin. The wolf in him surged, demanding more, but then his touch stalled "She's too young… too human," he thought, pulling back. And the world stilled.