Chapter 4: You Like When I Tell You What to Do

  The following Thursday, Mira arrived early again—but this time, Lena wasn’t waiting at their usual table.

  A folded slip of paper sat where Lena’s notebook should have been.

  Mira’s name was written on the front in Lena’s precise, narrow handwriting.

  Her pulse jumped.

  She unfolded it slowly.

  “Second floor, back reading room. No interruptions.”

  Mira knew the room. It was barely used—tucked in a quiet hallway near the archives, with a heavy wooden door and frosted windows. She hesitated, the note trembling faintly in her fingers, then slipped it into her jacket and made her way upstairs.

  The reading room was dim and warm, lit by a single yellow mp in the far corner. Heavy curtains muffled the te afternoon light. There was only one long table inside.

  Lena sat at the end of it, turned slightly toward the door when Mira entered. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows this time, revealing pale forearms and the clean lines of a silver watch.

  “You came,” Lena said quietly.

  “You left a note,” Mira replied, half-smiling, unsure what part of her voice was joking and what wasn’t.

  Lena didn’t smile. She tilted her head.

  “Shut the door.”

  Mira blinked.

  Then moved.

  The soft thud of the door closing echoed far louder than it should have. She turned slowly to face Lena again.

  “This is... more private,” Mira said, her throat dry.

  “That’s the point.”

  Lena gestured to the chair beside her this time—not across the table.

  Mira hesitated. But not for long.

  She walked over and sat down, the silence stretching between them. From this angle, she could smell Lena’s perfume—something faintly floral but cold, like vender on ice.

  “You’ve been thinking too much again,” Lena said softly.

  “I—how do you know that?”

  “You fidget more when you’re overthinking,” Lena murmured. “And you’re doing it now.”

  Mira gnced down at her hands, which were indeed pying with the drawstring of her hoodie.

  She dropped them into her p, cheeks flushed.

  Lena leaned forward, one elbow resting lightly on the table. “You’re easy to read.”

  “That’s not fair,” Mira muttered.

  “It’s not meant to be.”

  Lena reached forward and pced a finger under Mira’s chin, tilting her face up gently.

  “You like when I tell you what to do,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

  Mira’s breath caught. “I don’t—”

  “You do,” Lena said, firm now. “I see it all over you. The way you go still when I speak. The way you wait for me to give you something—permission, direction, praise.”

  Mira’s face burned. “That’s just... I’m not like that.”

  Lena didn’t move. Her finger remained under Mira’s chin, keeping her gaze locked.

  “You’ve never had someone who knew what to do with you,” Lena said. “That’s all.”

  Mira made a sound in the back of her throat. “You talk like you do.”

  Lena’s hand slid downward, tracing the slope of Mira’s neck—slow and steady—until her fingers rested lightly just beneath her colrbone.

  “I do,” she said.

  Mira didn’t breathe. Her whole body felt suspended.

  Lena leaned closer.

  “Sit up,” she said.

  Mira obeyed.

  “Put your hands on the table.”

  She did.

  Lena’s hand moved lower, fingers brushing the edge of Mira’s chest now—barely touching.

  “Keep them there,” Lena said softly. “No matter what.”

  Mira nodded, unable to find her voice.

  Lena leaned in and kissed the side of her neck.

  Not a press of lips. Not exactly. More like a brush of warm breath, a slow drag of her mouth just above the skin, the faintest pressure.

  Mira’s hands twitched.

  Lena pulled back. “Don’t move them.”

  “I—I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know.”

  Lena stood up.

  She stepped behind Mira, hands trailing over the back of her chair, then downward, fingertips grazing her shoulders before settling lightly on Mira’s waist. Her touch was slow, sure, careful—but not hesitant. She knew exactly how much to give.

  “You like being told what to do,” she whispered again, closer this time. “You just don’t know how much yet.”

  Mira shivered, and still, her hands remained ft on the table.

  “Say it,” Lena murmured. “You like it.”

  “I...” Mira faltered. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. “I think I do.”

  Lena’s mouth curved into something just shy of a smile.

  “That’s enough for today,” she whispered.

  Mira made a sound of protest, barely audible.

  “I know,” Lena said softly, almost soothing. “But next time, I want you to be ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Mira asked, voice shaking.

  Lena leaned in, her lips nearly touching the shell of Mira’s ear.

  “For me to stop being so gentle.”