Chapter 30: Thirty

I hadn’t planned to walk in with Jacob. In fact, we hadn’t even spoken or texted since the kiss.

It just kind of happened. When I walked up, he was waiting near the entrance to the economics building, sipping his iced coffee and leaning against the wall with his eyes half open. He looked really sleepy in a cute way.

“Morning, academic weapon,” he said as I approached, offering me the second coffee he was holding. “You look dangerously focused.” He nodded at the stack of printed papers in my hand, “Should I be worried?”

I smiled despite myself, taking the cup. “Thanks. And maybe.”

He held the door open for me, and we stepped into the building together, our arms brushing as we walked.

The hallway leading to our class room was buzzing with early chatter and the low scrape of chairs on tile. I paused at the door, but Jacob didn’t. He went right in, already scanning the room for seats.

There were just two open spots, since we were a little late - one near the back and one closer to the middle. He slid into the one in the middle and looked up at me with a grin.

I hesitated. And then sat down next to him.

Declan walked in a few minutes later.

The air shifted. My heartbeat quickened.

He glanced at the room like he always did, calm and detached. I knew he was looking for me. His eyes landed on me, and I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. But I noticed when his eyes flicked to Jacob beside me. Jacob, who leaned back casually in his seat, one arm stretched across the back of my chair, just barely grazing my shoulders.

It was subtle. Innocent, even. But it was intentional.

I knew Declan registered it.

He didn’t react. Not exactly.

But the grip on his coffee cup tightened. His gaze lingered for a second too long before he turned toward the whiteboard, saying nothing.

“Today,” he began, his voice clipped at the edges, “we’re continuing with externalities and policy responses to market failures, specifically the design of Pigouvian taxes.”

Jacob leaned toward me and whispered, “Why does he sound pissed off first thing in the morning? Why does he always sound pissed?”

I pressed my lips together to stifle a laugh.

Declan paused mid sentence. Just for a moment. His jaw flexed.

He went on like nothing had happened.

I took out my notebook. Tried to focus on the graphs. On marginal cost curves and social benefits. But I could feel the air pulling tight around us. God, it was getting harder and harder as the days passed. I couldn’t wait for this semester to end.

Declan didn’t look at me again for most of the class, but his body was rigid, his voice too measured. And he did sound pissed the entire time. Well, it did make me feel a little good.

Toward the end of class, Declan opened the floor for questions. A few students raised their hands. I didn’t. But Jacob did. And he didn’t pick on him.

Annoyed, he scribbled on his notebook, do you think he hates me?

I smiled, then scribbled back, he doesn’t know you well enough for that yet.

Jacob glanced at me, amused. “Yet?” he mouthed.

I rolled my eyes. But my cheeks were warm.

And I knew Declan saw it. Because as he turned to the projector, he stumbled over his words. Just barely. Just enough.

When the class ended, students began filing out. Jacob stood and stretched, slipping his notebook into his bag. “Want to grab something before your next class?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Let me just toss this.”

We walked together toward the door.

“Willow,” Declan said.

It was quiet. Sharp. Just enough to stop me.

I turned slightly, still standing beside Jacob.

“Yes?” I asked, voice even.

His eyes flicked from Jacob’s hand to mine, where it wasn’t holding mine, but was close enough to.

“I wanted to follow up on your reading reflections,” he said, though his tone was all wrong. Too careful, too rehearsed. Too detached. “You didn’t include the policy critique section.”

“I didn’t think it was mandatory,” I said, polite but short.

His gaze held mine for a second too long. “It’s fine. Just try to be more thorough next time.”

I nodded. “Of course, Professor.”

“Can I see you in my office?” he asked, voice low and unreadable.

Jacob glanced at me. “Want me to wait?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll text you.”

He hesitated, then gave me a small nod. “Okay. See you later.”

As Jacob disappeared down the corridor, I turned back to Declan, who was already walking away, expecting me to follow.

I did.

When we reached his office, he unlocked the door, held it open, and waited for me to walk in first.

He closed the door quietly behind us.

“I don’t have long,” I said softly, not looking at him yet. “Fifteen minutes, maybe.”

“That’s fine,” he replied, walking around his desk but not sitting down.

Instead, he stood opposite me, arms crossed. He towered over me, and I felt intimidated under his sharp gaze.

“What is this really about?” I asked.

He was silent for a long moment. “Are you dating him?”

I rolled my eyes. “God, Declan, you have to stop this!”

“I just want to know.”

“Its not your fucking business.” I said, sourly.

“I’m your professor,” he said, too quickly.

“You weren’t saying that when I was in your bed.”

He flinched.

“And,” I continued, “Professors don’t have any rights to their students’ personal lives. So really, none of your fucking business.”

I took a deep breath. “Is there anything else?”

He was silent, his lips pursed. I nodded, having gotten my answer.

“You want honesty?”

He didn’t answer, but I could tell he was bracing for it.

I tilted my head slightly, met his eyes, and said, calm and soft, in a sickly sweet voice, “Jacob’s a better kisser than you.”

Silence.

Declan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. I didn’t wait for him to speak.

I opened the door and walked out, letting it click shut behind me.