Chapter 13 PRIMAL PANIC.
CLARA'S POV:
I still couldn’t stop thinking about Jake’s exact words - how he’d somehow linked my indifference toward him to Professor Asher.
For some reason, that comment had been looping in my head since last night, over and over like a song I couldn’t shut off.
The idea of a third party, anyone, knowing about my… escapade with Professor Asher made my stomach twist.
Because if I thought the rumor of something going on between Jake and me would be humiliating, then I didn’t even want to imagine what people would say if they ever found out I’d slept with my literature professor.
Even the slightest mention of his name and thinking about him made my chest tighten.
But it wasn’t just Jake’s words that unsettled me - it was the way he said them. The look in his eyes when he asked that question.
There was something dark there, something unreadable. Like he wanted to say more… but chose not to.
And that silence? It was worse than anything he could’ve said out loud.
All night, I’d tossed and turned in bed, trying to make sense of it - his tone, his expression, that slight pause before he said Professor Asher’s name.
My fingers had twisted the sheets so many times that by dawn, they were wrinkled beyond saving.
Part of me wanted to believe it was just Jake being his usual provoking self, tossing careless words just to get under my skin.
But another part - the part that had been restless since the moment he walked away - kept whispering that it wasn’t random. That maybe… he knew.
And the thought of that terrified me more than I wanted to admit.
By morning, I’d made up my mind: I couldn’t afford to overthink anymore. Whatever Jake meant, whatever he thought he knew - it didn’t matter.
The only way to survive this mess was to act like I didn’t care.
So that’s exactly what I decided to do.
To be Indifferent. And Distant.
Even if it meant pretending that my pulse didn’t spike every time, I thought about Professor Asher.
Even if it meant forcing a calm I didn’t feel.
Because if I didn’t control the story - someone else would.
Just then, I stopped dead in my tracks.
My breath hitched, my pulse stuttered - and for a moment, I wished the floor would just open up and swallow me whole.
Because right there, a few steps ahead, stood the two men who’d been living rent-free in my head all week.
Jake.
And behind him - Professor Asher.
Jake’s eyes were locked on mine, his expression unreadable. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced with something colder, quieter.
He looked annoyingly good, as always - dark jeans, a grey shirt that clung just enough to show off his frame, and that tousled hair that always looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times.
And then there was Professor Asher.
Tall. Composed. In a crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, dark slacks, and that same air of quiet authority that somehow filled the space around him without him even trying.
His jaw was tense, his face calm - too calm - but his eyes… those eyes were a storm.
For some reason, I couldn’t look away.
My gaze flicked helplessly between them both, my body frozen where I stood.
No one said a word.
No one moved.
It felt like time itself had stopped - like the air had thickened around us, trapping me in that unbearable silence.
Then Jake did something that made my stomach twist even tighter.
He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Professor Asher for a few long seconds. Whatever passed between them in that look - I couldn’t read it. But it wasn’t friendly.
When he turned back to me, a slow, wry smirk curved his lips, the kind that reached his eyes just enough to make it feel mocking.
He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue - that telltale gesture of his that usually came before a sarcastic comment.
Only this time, he didn’t say a word.
And maybe that silence said too much.
I didn’t even wait to process it. My heartbeat was in my throat, my palms clammy.
Without another glance, I brushed past them both, forcing my legs to move even though they felt like jelly.
The moment I stepped into the classroom, I could finally breathe again - or at least pretend to.
What was that?
I slid into my seat, my heart hammering against my ribs like wild claws scratching at a cage.
My hands trembled slightly as I set my bag down, my mind replaying that suffocating stare outside.
I still didn’t understand what had just happened, why Jake’s smirk had unsettled me so much, or what had passed silently between him and Professor Asher.
But all of that had to wait. Class was starting.
The door opened, and in walked Professor Asher, tall and commanding as always, followed by Jake. The class greeted him in unison, a chorus of “Good morning, Sir!” that barely registered in my foggy, restless mind.
My instincts were on edge, a low hum of awareness coiling through my chest, like the pull of a full moon tugging at something primal inside me.
Professor Asher’s deep, measured voice acknowledged them, and as he set his bag down and neatly stacked his books on the desk.
I caught the faint brush of his cuffs against his forearms as he adjusted them -a small, precise motion that somehow made him look even more composed.
My senses sharpened automatically, every movement and sound heightened, the hairs on my arms standing on edge.
He swept his gaze across the room, scanning the students with silent authority, and then it landed on me.
My chest tightened, my pulse thundering, and I immediately looked away, pretending to inspect my notes.
The pull of his stare was magnetic, almost predatory - like a wolf’s eyes locked onto its target.
“Alright, everyone,” Professor Asher began, his voice calm but edged with that unmistakable steel, reverberating through the hall like the rumble of distant thunder.
“Today we start submitting the final project. The deadline is today, and I expect every team to follow the submission guidelines I’ve outlined.”
“Make sure your work is complete, properly formatted, and that all group members have contributed equally.”
A few students muttered amongst themselves, but my senses were hyper-aware, ears catching every shift of movement, every exhale in the room, as if the air itself had grown thick with tension.
He continued, tone sharpening slightly, “However, let me make one thing clear. The only persons not allowed to submit today are Williams and Miss Bennett.”
My breath caught. The primal part of me recoiled, claws raking against my chest from the inside. Not allowed to submit… that meant automatic failure. My instincts had been right all along.
My stomach twisted into knots, hands clenching on the desk as if to anchor myself to the floor, to resist the surge of wild panic rising.
“Your behavior in the last class disrupted the entire project,” Professor Asher continued, eyes scanning the room like a predator circling prey.
“I do not tolerate unprofessional conduct. No excuses. No appeals. This is non-negotiable.”
I swallowed hard, feeling trapped under his gaze. Every instinct in my body screamed to vanish, to shrink down, to escape the suffocating heat of judgment.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly, piercing, and he asked, “Miss Bennett… why are you sitting at the far end of the class, instead of with your partner, Williams?”
I froze. All eyes were on me now. The room blurred at the edges, a haze of whispered guesses and darting glances.
My pulse raced in erratic bursts, like a wolf’s heart pounding in a forest at night, hunting or hunted - I couldn’t tell which.
I forced my posture straight, hands folded neatly on the desk, but every nerve screamed alert, on edge.
From the back of the room came a sharp whistle. A boy’s voice, dripping mock drama, called out, “Ooooh! Clara and Jake… what's going on? Already over Dylan, I see?”
The class erupted in laughter. Snickers bounced off the walls like snapping branches, slicing through my composure.
My face flamed crimson, teeth clenched instinctively, and I forced myself not to show the raw spike of shame and panic. My wolfish instincts wanted to growl, snap, flee - anything to reclaim control.
Jake’s voice cut through the laughter, smooth but laced with that infuriating knowing tone. “Over Dylan? Yeah… obviously. We've barely even started!” he said, dark eyes flicking briefly toward me, smirk curling like a fang of teasing menace.
My breath hitched. His words, his tone… he’d just confirmed it. Confirmed that everyone - including himself - was now assuming something was going on between us.
Something that wasn’t.
I quickly darted a glance at Professor Asher, desperate for a lifeline, but his face was a wall of unreadable fury.
His usual poker face was terrifying on its own - but now, the sharp edge of his gaze cut through me like a predator’s claw.
Deadly. Furious. The kind of look that made me want to sink into the floor and disappear completely.
I clamped my hands over my mouth, willing myself to breathe slowly, to remain composed.
But inside, my mind was a storm, instincts raw, primal - alert, restless, and fiercely protective.
Oh! Moon goddess, Help me!