Page 46 of Ashen Souls

“Yes?”

Hale was watching me, rolling the piece of chalk loosely between his fingers.

“What do you make of Ovid’s account of Leda?” he asked. “Power, desire, or violation?”

My mouth went dry. I had to force myself to swallow before I could push the words out.

“All of them,” I managed. “That’s why it endures. You can’t reduce it to one thing. It refuses to stay simple.”

His fingers stopped rolling the piece of chalk, and a stillness settled over him.

“Exactly. Unforgettable because it resists.”

The sheer gravity of his focus held me transfixed, stripping away the rustle of notebooks and the breathing of a hundred other students until the lecture hall shrank to just the two of us.

Then, as seamlessly as he had reeled me in, he released the tension, turning his broad shoulders back to the board. “Good answer, Ms. Hart.”

Under the desk, Harper’s shoe nudged sharply against mine.

“Jesus, Aves,” she muttered under her breath. “Do you guys need a minute alone, or should the rest of us just leave the room?”

The rest of the lecture dissolved into a haze. Hale kept speaking, but the words glided past me without settling anywhere useful. By the time he dismissed us, students were already shifting in their seats, zippers rasping, benches creaking as everyone scrambled for the aisles.

I was stuffing my notebook into my bag when I realized Harper was leaning against the desk, watching me with a smug smile.

“Well, well,” she drawled. “That was some very intense eye contact.”

“Harper…”

“Oh, don’t even try to deny it.” She lowered her voice as students squeezed past us toward the doors. “The man practically wrote your name on the board with his gaze.”

A groan escaped me. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m observant,” she corrected. “And if ‘Ruin My Life 101’ was on the syllabus, you'd be begging for extra credit right now.”

I rolled my eyes and slung my bag over my shoulder. “He’s our professor.”

“Exactly.” Her grin turned wicked. “Forbidden fruit.”

“Please stop saying that.”

“Why? It’s accurate.” She gave me a light shove toward the hallway. “Go talk to him.”

“I just want feedback on my essay,” I said, though the lie sounded weak even to my own ears.

“Of course you do.” Harper’s eyebrows climbed into her hairline. “Oh my God. You’re actually going right now.”

“It's literally his job, Harper.”

“Sure it is.” She waved me off, already walking backward down the bustling corridor. “Text me later,” she called over her shoulder, “so I know whether to buy wine or holy water.”

I turned and walked away before I could give myself time to reconsider.

Dr. Ethan Hale. Office 214.

The door stood slightly ajar, a bright wedge of warm lamplight stretching across the dim hallway. I hesitated outside it, my fingers curling into my palms so tightly my nails left stinging half-moons in the skin. I stood there for a moment, listening to the hum of the nearly empty building.

Taking a shallow breath, I raised my hand and knocked lightly on the wooden frame.