Chapter 23: Public Heat

  Monday came slow and golden, like it didn’t want to ruin the mood from the weekend.

  Mira had barely left Lena’s pce by the time her first css rolled around. Her hair was still slightly wavy from where Lena had dried it for her the night before. Her backpack still smelled faintly like Lena’s undry detergent—warm cotton and something faintly vender —and her lips still tingled from the goodbye kiss at the front door.

  She’d barely made it across campus without texting her again.

  There’d been something soft and dazed in Mira’s chest all morning, like the warm hum of a memory she couldn’t shake. Lena had cooked breakfast in her sleep shirt. She’d cupped Mira’s chin gently while telling her to sit still while she poured tea. She’d whispered “You’re not in a rush” even though Mira definitely had been.

  Now Mira was sitting in her English seminar, notebook open, pen tapping uselessly in her hand, still trying to come down from that lingering softness.

  Until her phone buzzed quietly under the fold of her sweater.

  From: Lena Cross your legs, sweetheart.

  Mira blinked. Her heart did a small flip.

  She shifted in her seat instinctively—slowly drawing one knee over the other under the desk. She hadn’t even realized they were parted. Her cheeks warmed.

  Buzz.

  From: Lena Good girl. Stay like that. No fidgeting.

  Mira bit the inside of her cheek. Her pen stopped tapping.

  She gnced around. No one noticed. Of course no one noticed. Everyone was absorbed in the slideshow on 18th-century poetry, the room half-dimmed to make the screen easier to see. She could have been reading texts from anyone.

  But she wasn’t.

  Another buzz.

  From: Lena Don’t try to find me.

  Her eyes snapped up before she could stop herself.

  She scanned the lecture hall. Back row. Right side.

  Lena.

  Dressed in bck again—yers, elegant as always, her coat draped over the chair beside her like she didn’t care if someone took it. She had a pen in her hand but wasn’t writing. Just watching.

  Mira looked away too quickly.

  Heat flushed down the back of her neck.

  Css went on. It was hard to tell what the professor was saying anymore. Something about meter. Something about romanticism. Mira’s pen barely moved across the page. Every time she shifted, she felt like Lena would know. Every time she stopped herself, her thighs tightened.

  And then—quietly, sneakily—another text.

  From: Lena You’re thinking about st night, aren’t you?

  Mira didn’t answer.

  From: Lena Be honest, baby.

  She tugged her sleeve over her hand, pressed her palm to her cheek, and tried not to smile.

  From: Mira Maybe a little.

  From: Lena That’s not very convincing.

  From: Mira Fine. A lot.

  A beat. Then:

  From: Lena Such a needy girl.

  Mira squirmed before she could stop herself.

  Buzz.

  From: Lena I said no fidgeting.

  Mira crossed her ankles tighter.

  She could feel her own grin trying to bloom—biting at the corners of her lips. Her chest felt fizzy. Her heart had begun to thump in that way that wasn’t just arousal anymore—it was that giddy, helpless thing that happened only with Lena. The part of her that wanted to bury her face in Lena’s neck and stay there for hours.

  ---

  By the end of css, Mira wasn’t thinking about poetry at all. Only the aftertaste of being watched.

  She packed her things slowly. Purposefully slow. Students filed out around her. A few said hi. Someone complimented her earrings. She smiled, nodded, but her attention was somewhere else entirely.

  Another buzz.

  From: Lena Stay seated. Wait until the room clears out.

  Mira obeyed. Heart fluttering. Feet tucked under her seat.

  Once the st student left, she looked up. Lena was already walking toward her.

  There was nothing rushed in her step. Nothing outwardly intense. But the way Lena moved in her direction—silent and purposeful—made Mira’s breath catch.

  When she reached Mira’s desk, Lena bent slightly, just enough to murmur, “Didn’t I tell you not to fidget?”

  Mira bit her lip. “I tried.”

  Lena smiled. “No. You obey. There’s a difference.”

  She brushed her fingers against the side of Mira’s wrist, feather-light. Mira felt it all the way up her arm.

  Lena’s voice softened. “You were squirmy.”

  “I couldn’t help it.”

  “I know,” Lena said, almost fond. “You were thinking about how good you had it yesterday, weren’t you? My p. My hands. That sleepy little whine you made when I said bedtime.”

  Mira flushed instantly. “You’re being mean.”

  Lena tilted her head. “Am I?” She stepped closer. “I think you like when I’m mean.”

  Mira didn’t answer. Her cheeks answered for her.

  They walked out of the building together a minute ter, mostly silent, side by side. A breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves on the quad. Students were stretched out on the grass. Birds chirped like it was too nice a day for anyone to have real problems.

  Lena gnced over. “Do you want to come over tonight?”

  Mira nodded quickly. “Yes.”

  “Even if I’m bossy?”

  “You’re always bossy.”

  Lena gave a small, amused hum. “And you keep coming back.”

  Mira grinned. “Maybe I like it.”

  “Maybe?” Lena echoed, pretending to be offended.

  She reached out and gently tugged at the strap of Mira’s backpack, just enough to make her step closer.

  “You’re adorable when you try to be coy,” Lena said quietly. “But you already belong to me, Mira.”

  Mira’s entire body flushed.

  “I know,” she said. Barely audible. “I like that too.”