The Professor (Book 2)

8: A Secret Language

He had liked it.

The next following days, I had practically been glowing with smugness, after my recent talk with Harry.

All this time, he had liked me. Back in the summer, he had secretly been attracted to me, but out of respect for me and what his brother had tried to do to me, he had stayed clear of me. Or at least tried to.

But he had secretly enjoyed all my naughty advances.

I smiled at the ground as I walked across campus, lost in my own thoughts on my way to class.

Harry was a gentleman in every aspect, but, as I had been right in my deductions back then, he was first and foremost a man. And when the object of his desires had sat naked on his lap, pressing her breasts against him, it had been too much for even him to resist.

– He had enjoyed the show, even if it tortured him to watch.

Grinning to myself, I couldn't help but also feel a small ache in my chest as I thought about the other piece of information he had let drop.

How he had admitted to wanting me.

It might not have meant much, might not have meant what I thought it did, but to me, it was everything. Back then, I had always wondered if I was the only one who had wanted what we were doing, or if he was simply just playing along—but now, having heard his confession, I knew one thing.

– He might not have wanted me romantically, but he had craved me sexually. And that was something no other woman in his vicinity could say.

Not even Catarina.

Her warnings the other day, when she talked about how Harry never seemed to take initiative, how she had always been the one to come to him—she had assumed that he had done the same to me, and he had, but for reasons I now saw were very different.

He might've liked Catarina for her brain, but not her mind. He had never craved her sexually. He saw her for what she truly was in the end and it repelled him.

But he had liked me for my mouth. For my innocence, for my boldness, for my persistence and for my vulnerability. Attraction could come in many forms, and for these things, Harry had been compelled to me. He might not have loved me, but for the first time in his life, he had wanted a woman enough to break down his walls.

To give up his virginity.

That very notion had brought a special warmth to my heart as I now stepped into class, ready to sit through another grueling lecture by Harry. I unwrapped my scarf and felt how my heart started beating with anticipation as other students entered, groaning as they too knew what was to come. But I couldn't focus just yet.

Harry had liked me enough to show me that side of him, and yet... with all the things he had spoken that day, one mystery still remained. Actually several.

Why was he here? Why had he acted so coldly towards me in the beginning? Why was he still trying to keep a distance, trying to create a gaping space between us?

The answer; Because he still doesn't love you and he doesn't want to give you the wrong impression.

"Good morning, class."

My bittersweet thoughts were burst as the voice of the man who I had just been thinking about entered the classroom. I looked up and saw Harry walk up to his desk, wearing a brown-beige suit today with a cream-colored tie. He adjusted his glasses as he set down his suitcase, receiving a half-assed good morning back from the classroom.