2

Elizabeth's POV

It didn't take long before the news had spread on our class channels, and it wasn't long after when Jennifer posted a photo on her Instagram, with the caption:

“Snatching another hottie”

And Ethan followed, because of course he did, reposting it to his own story with a dripping-wet emoji like it was some kind of achievement.

I stared at it for a few seconds. The comments were pouring in, laughing emojis, inside jokes I wasn't part of anymore, heart reacts.

I exited the department channel. I didn’t defend myself or respond.

What was the point?

People had already picked a side.

I switched off my phone and tucked it into my jacket. My hands clenched at my sides as I sat there on the campus bench, the cold metal seeping through my tights.

I could still hear Ethan’s voice in my head, the way he’d called me a leech, the way Jennifer had walked out like she had won a trophy.

Maybe she had.

My GPA wouldn’t protect me from public humiliation. My perfect attendance record wouldn’t erase the image of me being thrown into the hallway, crying like a child, in front of an audience of vultures.

I was spiraling, slowly losing my mind because of who......Ethan.

"He doesn't deserve me," I whispered quietly to myself.

“He doesn’t deserve me,” I whispered again, louder this time, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

The wind picked up, and with it came a sharp sting behind my eyes. I blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. Not again, I wouldn't cry for a man who didn’t even flinch when he broke me.

"Neon lights,"

It wasn't far from where I stood. I hadn't gone to a bdsm club before, which this obviously was. But I wanted to feel pain, I wanted to feel relief at the same time too, for atleast.....just for one night.

____

I took the first step before I could talk myself out of it. My heels clicked on the pavement like a slow drumroll to something reckless and irreversible.

The sign for NEON LIGHTS flickered ahead, blood red, violet, and wicked. The kind of place people whispered about in the dorm bathrooms, daring each other to visit but never actually going.

I wasn’t one of those girls tonight.

I walked up to the door, past the bouncer who barely glanced at my ID before waving me through. The heavy bass of deep house music pulsed under my skin, matching the beat of my anxiety.

The moment I stepped inside, the world changed.

It was all black leather, dim lighting, glinting chains, and bodies that moved like liquid shadows. Red ropes. Silver cuffs. People laughing with their mouths but staring with their eyes.

I wasn’t as scared as I assumed that I would be. I was.....relieved.

No one here cared who I was. No one knew what had happened hours ago. In here, I wasn’t Elizabeth Walters, the overachieving senior who got dumped and humiliated. I was just a girl in a black dress. A stranger looking to disappear.

I made my way to the bar and ordered something strong, vodka, skull kunk to be precise. It burned beautifully down my throat. I didn’t wince.

And then I saw him.

At the far end of the bar, standing like he owned the place. A black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, lean but powerful. He was older. Way older than any guy I had ever looked at twice. But he wasn’t just handsome, he was intense. Sculpted jaw, sharp eyes, one hand resting on his glass, the other tucked in his pocket like he had nowhere else to be.

He looked expensive and very familiar. Sebastian Gray. A professor at Ghee university, my university.

The enigma, the man she had a crush on just like the majority of the students, both male and female. She liked him for so long before she met Ethan, thinking her emotions had withered away.

But seeing him now.....here, of all places.

He hadn’t seen me yet, thank God. I stayed frozen for a second too long, my fingers curled around the rim of my glass.

Professor Gray. The youngest in the department. Always in tailored shirts and unreadable expressions. He taught Ethics and Logic with the kind of voice that made silence feel indulgent. Nobody knew much about him , only that he was rich, brilliant, and never lingered after class.

The kind of man who made you sit straighter just by walking into the room. The kind of man I used to imagine touching me in ways no textbook ever could. And now here he was, standing like temptation incarnate in a place where rules didn’t matter.

My first instinct was to leave. To vanish into the background and forget I ever saw him.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I looked straight at him.

And then, he looked back.

It was subtle, like he had already known I was there. His gaze found mine in the dark. Not like a teacher spotting a student. His brows barely twitched, but I saw it. The recognition.

I turned away, grabbed my drink, and walked toward the back of the club. I didn’t want to be seen, not by him. Not like this, with scattered hair and bloodshot eyes. But I could still feel his gaze on me.

I slipped between bodies, into the red haze of the second room, trying to hide. I didn’t even see him approach me.

But I felt him. The heat of him at my back, the ghost of a breath just below my ear.

"You shouldn’t be here miss Walters," his voice murmured, low and rough, a whisper just meant for me.

I turned, heart stalling.

"I am a fully fledged adult, sir," I answered.

He stared at me for a long, unreadable moment.

And then he said, "So why are you here, Miss Walters?"

The sound of my name on his lips sent a current through me. It wasn’t gentle. It was sharp and commanding. I could lie. I could say anything. But I didn’t want to lie.

“Because I wanted to forget tonight. I don't know if you've seen the viral news about Ethan and.....”

"I have," His eyes flicked down to my dress, then back to my face. “Is that what you want?”

I nodded once. But it came out broken. “Just one night.”

His jaw clenched, his hand rising slowly, hesitating, and then brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was too soft for how intense he looked. For how tight his voice was when he said....

“It won't be your regular vanilla sex, miss Walters.”