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  Jesse: Well, at least you guys talked…

  You: I wouldn’t consider that talking

  Jesse: Okay, u exchanged words and breaths

  You: Sounds sexual

  Jesse: Mister Miller, what a flirt you are

  You: Shut up your idea was shit just admit it

  Jesse: My idea was great but you’re so stubborn

  of course it’s going to go badly

  You: I’m blocking you now

  Jesse: Dumbass

  In bed, I watch the exchange with Jesse from the night before.

  It took me two hours at the gym, half an hour under the shower, and another hour-long monologue in my living room to reduce the boiling adrenaline from my veins. Only then did I share my experience with Jesse, which has riled me up again in just five messages.

  I’ve yet to comprehend how this is my fault here. Andrew’s the one assuming parts of my life he should really stay out of. Good looks and pretty smiles can’t save him from every situation. I won’t let that happen.

  Thinking about him first thing in the morning isn’t a good sign, right?

  Before my palpitant enters tachycardia, I engage in my morning routine.

  And when the doors open to Caroline’s office, her sweet profile welcomes me like a comforting hug. Which quickly turns into a chokehold. Because my theory about Andrew’s knowledge of me comes back to mind. She looks happy, smiling with perfect white teeth while she takes a fuming mug to her lips. Right until her eyes fall onto me. She knows. And I know that she knows.

  “Alexej!” she exclaims with a high-pitched voice I’m pretty sure I never heard her use. She’s either embarrassed or she burned herself with her coffee. “You are resplendent today.”

  “Resplendent isn’t an adjective I would use to describe myself. Ever.” I grunt. She decomposes herself as I rest my elbows over the counter. “How are you?”

  She shuffles some papers between her fingers without purpose. “I’m very good. What about you?”

  My grin grows. “Perfect. Tell me… Did a certain professor come here to ask questions about me, my dear Caroline?”

  She gulps. And becomes red. And for a second, I regret being this mean and oppressive to her. But then Andrew’s face appears in my head. “Sorry?” She blabbers.

  “You know.”

  “I do?”

  “Come on, Caroline. I’m not going to eat you.”

  Her eyes get bigger. “You sure look like it right now.”

  I straighten my pose to feel less looming over her. But I do cross my arms and watch her expectantly. “So?”

  “Yes, Andrew came here to ask questions about you. Very innocently! He seemed genuinely interested. I wouldn’t have said anything if I felt he wasn’t sincere. You do trust me, Alexej, right?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I did. I do. I don’t know. I’ve been so disappointed by people my whole life; trust isn’t something easy to give.

  Betrayal would be too strong a word. “You’re upset,” she adds with a sad expression on her features. “I’m sorry. You’re right, it was none of my business to tell all these things about you to him.”

  “All these things?” I repeat. Just how much has she divulged?

  “I mean… Just a figure of speech.”

  “I’m not mad. Or upset. He’s just snooping around, and I want to know why.” While I grab my suitcase again, she clears her throat. When my eyes cross hers, I’m practically sure she blushed.

  “He’s nice. Kind.”

  “Don’t you suspect that his loquacious abilities could be just a front to get what he wants?”

  She huffs and breaks the gaze. “Not everyone is that manipulative.”

  “His job is to scan people for clues. I’m sure he’s mastered the art of manipulation.”

  She stares a second too long, and I know I’ve implanted doubt in her heart. Because, truly, synergology is a hoax and should be banned. “It’s probably more than that—”

  “Have you changed your perfume?” I interrupt.

  She’s startled. Her dark green eyes fix me, and her lids flutter once, twice, three times. The tint of her cheeks approaches red, and I purposefully lean close to her. “I did but—”

  “It smells very good,” I say with a suave voice. My curious power has noticed the change in her smell the second I set foot inside the building. She conveniently sprayed her skin, her neck and wrists, maybe even her nape, so that her scent would follow her every move. My eyes focus on all these places, and her breaths go erratic. I don’t feel proud using such subterfuge, but she has to understand my point of view. “Are you freshening up for someone?”

  She avoids my stare. “Alexej, what are you doing?”

  “You do like saying my name, don’t you?”

  She gasps. Loudly. “Stop it. Now.” She almost shouts and pushes my shoulders out of her space.

  “You see how easy it is? How manipulative I can be? Imagine him. He sees every little movement you make. Every change in your face while you speak. And when he has watched you long enough, you’re just an open book to him.”

  “I’ve apologized. What else do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. I’m just proving a point,” her expression shows hurt, and my stomach turns a little.

  “Well, I got it. Good day, Professor Miller.”

  She storms into her office and closes the door behind her.

  ?

  “That will be all for today. Prepare for the next course carefully, as we will be presenting multiple forms of treatment for such diseases. Thanks.”

  As I finish my class, I ponder between watching every single student to see if Andrew attended, or deliberately avoiding to cross eyes with them to eschew the moment I would fall over his.

  I decide that cleaning my desk and arranging my papers inside my briefcase is smarter.

  The students leave, and one person lingers at the threshold. I lift an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Professor Miller?”

  This name. “That would be me, yes.”

  He comes forward. Holds out a letter for me, which I grab. “It’s already opened.” I notice. And he nods. His face constricted with embarrassment.

  “It has been delivered to the wrong person, I’m sorry.”

  “You mean, the other professor Miller in this institute?” My blood starts to boil.

  “Most certainly.”

  So, this letter, which was destined for me, has been opened by Andrew and most surely read. My nostrils flare because of how much oxygen I need to inhale. The man next to me takes a step toward the door. “Thanks. You can go.”

  He executes my command without a glance back.

  My fingers grab the letter from the torn envelope and open it without subtlety. Inside, I recognize the address of a company I’ve applied to a few weeks ago, hoping for a job position in their research department.

  My father had sent a list of all the companies that could potentially need a researcher from my branch of specialty. Despite going through thorough facts and reasons why this would be completely counter-productive, he insisted. Again, and again, up until I had no other choice but to concede.

  One of the reasons I obeyed was that I was surely convinced these companies wouldn’t even take the time to reply to such applications. That this letter would immediately fall either into their trash or their shredder. But no. They answered. And Andrew read it.

  We’ve received your applications and are honored that our institute has created such eagerness in your desire to work with us. Unfortunately—

  No need to read more. Isabella told me it was pointless, and I should’ve listened to her.

  I smash the letter on the desk, and if it weren’t for the weird black writing that seemed to appear under the lightning of the room, I would have torn the paper into shreds. The fact that I recognize the handwriting while watching it backwards is terrifying.

  But the words are worse.

  Eat lunch with me. We need to talk. Andrew.