His office, my rules

ELI

I was still burning when I reached my apartment.

Not from the run. Not from the rain.

From Carter.

That moment when Liam walked in, and Carter’s jaw clenched so tight I thought he’d crack a tooth—God. Why the hell did I find that hot?

I threw my bag on the floor, face-first onto the couch.

“Get it together, Eli.”

I sat up, dragging my hands through my damp hair. Homework waited. Assignments. Case briefs. The life of a law student.

I forced myself to the desk. Laptop on. Notes spread out.

For hours, I worked. Typed. Read. Highlighted. Tried not to think about Carter’s voice, Carter’s stare, Carter’s everything.

At some point, I grabbed my phone and called Mia.

She picked up on the second ring. “You sound dead.”

“I am dead,” I groaned. “Tell me I don’t have anything due tomorrow.”

She was silent. Too silent.

My heart dropped. “Mia.”

“…You forgot, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“The test. Evidence Law. Tomorrow morning.”

I shot up in my chair. “WHAT?”

She laughed. “Oh my God, Eli. Did you seriously forget?”

I was pacing now. “We have a test tomorrow? Evidence Law? You mean tomorrow tomorrow? Like, in a few hours?”

“Yes, genius.”

“Why didn’t you remind me earlier?”

“I thought you knew!”

“Mia!”

She was still laughing. “Good luck, sunshine.”

I hung up on her and stared at my books like they were monsters.

No sleep tonight. At all.

By morning, I was half-dead.

My eyes felt like sandpaper, my hands shaky from too much coffee and zero rest. But I was in class early. Because if I was going to fail, at least I’d fail with effort.

The room was quiet except for the shuffle of papers and the groan of chairs. I dropped into my seat, dumped my bag on the floor, and pressed my forehead to the desk.

“Don’t die yet,” Maya’s voice said.

I turned my head slowly. She looked worse than me. Her braids were pulled into a messy bun, eyeliner smudged, eyes half-closed.

“You look like a zombie,” I whispered.

“You look like roadkill,” she shot back.

We stared at each other for a second. Then both groaned at the same time.

“This test is going to kill me,” I said.

“I already wrote my will,” Maya muttered. “You can have my hair products.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re so stupid.”

She smiled weakly. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Before I could say more, the classroom door opened.

Professor Richards walked in. Old, stiff, glasses perched on his nose. The room fell silent instantly.

“Good morning, students,” he said, voice sharp. “Put your books away. Phones off. Bags to the side. We begin now.”

A collective groan rolled through the room.

Maya whispered, “If I die, tell my mom I wanted to be cremated.”

“Shut up,” I whispered back, shoving my notes away.

The professor dropped a thick stack of papers on the desk. The sound made me want to throw up.

“Test will last ninety minutes. No talking. No cheating. Eyes on your own work. If I see anything suspicious, you fail. Immediately.”

Someone muttered, “Yes, sir,” under their breath.

Professor Richards glared. The muttering died.

He started passing out the papers, one row at a time.

Maya leaned close as he neared. “Eli.”

“What.”

“If I don’t make it—”

“Maya.”

“—delete my search history.”

I choked on a laugh, covering my mouth.

She grinned. “Focus. Don’t get caught.”

The paper landed in front of me.

Evidence Law Midterm.

My heart sank.

First question: Explain the Federal Rules of Evidence 403 and provide one case example.

I wanted to cry.

Maya whispered, “We’re screwed.”

Professor Richards barked, “Miss Adeniran. One more sound and you’re out.”

Maya mimed zipping her lips.

I sighed, picked up my pen, and started writing.

Ninety minutes. Just ninety minutes.

If I survived this, I’d probably pass out in the hallway.

The ninety minutes crawled, but I forced myself to focus.

Rule 403. Case law. Hearsay exceptions. I wrote like my hand was on fire.

For once, even Maya was quiet. Her head bent over the paper, pen moving fast.

When the old man finally called, “Time,” we both slumped back in our chairs like corpses.

“Papers forward,” Professor Richards said. His voice never changed pitch. Not once.

We shuffled them up the rows.

He stacked them neatly, expression flat. “Results will be ready by this evening.”

I blinked. “This evening?” I whispered to Maya.

She groaned, pressing her forehead to the desk. “The old man’s a workaholic. Who grades that fast? He should at least wait a week. Give us time to recover before he destroys us.”

I laughed weakly. “Guess he enjoys our suffering.”

“Sadist,” she muttered.

We walked out together, bags slung over shoulders.

“Library?” she asked.

“Library,” I agreed.

But halfway down the hall, I nearly smacked into a wall of dark suit and colder eyes.

Carter.

Documents in his hand. Jaw tight. Expression unreadable.

I froze. “S-sorry,” I stammered.

His gaze swept over me, sharp and blank. Then: “Follow me.”

My stomach flipped.

Maya leaned close, whispering, “Ooooh, professor-student tension.”

I hissed, “Shut up.”

She grinned wickedly, lifted her hand, and made an exaggerated blowjob gesture.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “You’re disgusting.”

“Love you too, sunshine,” she sang, then skipped off toward the library.

I turned back. Carter was already walking away. I scrambled to follow, almost jogging to keep up.

He didn’t say a word. Just kept walking, documents in one hand, his coat draped perfectly on his shoulders like he was born to intimidate.

I swallowed. “Um—do you… want me to carry some of those?”

No reply. Not even a glance.

Cool. Great. Talking to a wall.

We reached his office. He unlocked it, pushed the door open, and walked straight in. I followed, clutching my bag awkwardly.

He dropped the documents on his desk in a neat stack.

“Sit,” he said.

I sat.

He opened a drawer, pulled out another folder, and tossed it on the desk in front of me. “Your duties.”

I blinked. “My… what?”

“Assistant duties.” His tone was clipped, efficient. “You’ll be responsible for compiling attendance records. Preparing reading lists. Organizing research sources. Drafting summaries.”

I flipped the folder open. Notes, spreadsheets, lists. “Okay. That’s… manageable.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You’ll also proof citations. Track case law updates. Grade basic assignments.”

My head snapped up. “Wait—grade?”

His brows lifted slightly. “Problem?”

“I—I mean, don’t you usually—”

“I don’t have time to waste on multiple-choice quizzes and half-baked essays,” he cut in. “You’ll grade them. I’ll review randomly.”

I blinked again. “So, you’re trusting me with people’s grades?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… a lot of pressure.”

“Then don’t mess up.”

I stared. “Wow. Thanks for the pep talk.”

He didn’t even blink. “You’re smart. That’s why I asked for you.”

My heart tripped over itself.

Wait. What?

“You… asked for me?”

“Yes.”

“You told the HOD you wanted me?”

“Yes.”

My jaw dropped. “Why?”

He picked up a pen, started writing something like I wasn’t having an internal breakdown across from him. “Because you’re the top of your class. And I don’t tolerate incompetence.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You could’ve just said I’m good at my job. You didn’t need to insult everyone else while you were at it.”

He looked up finally. “You want me to lie?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then muttered, “You’re infuriating.”

His mouth twitched. Barely. Almost like—God forbid—he might’ve been amused.

He pushed another stack of papers toward me. “Start with these.”

I pulled them closer. Student essays. Typed. Margins too wide. Fonts too small. My brain already ached.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But if anyone yells at me about their grade, I’m sending them to you.”

“Do that,” he said simply.

I glanced at him. Cold. Calm. Completely unreadable.

I dropped my eyes back to the essays, chewing the inside of my cheek.

I should’ve hated this.

But instead, a stupid thought slid through my head.

Working this close to him is going to kill me.

Hours.

That’s how long I sat there, drowning in badly written essays.

Comma splices everywhere. Wrong citations. Paragraphs that made me question the future of the legal system.

I groaned, scribbling a red note in the margin. “Jesus. How do these people even get into law school?”

Across the desk, Carter didn’t look up from his laptop. “Money. Connections. Luck. Take your pick.”

I scowled. “Unfair. I actually studied.”

“Life’s unfair.” His tone was so flat it almost made me laugh.

I flipped another essay. It was worse than the last one. “This one spelled plaintiff with an ‘f.’”

He didn’t glance up. “Grade it accordingly.”

I rolled my eyes, dragging my pen across the paper.

After a while, my attention drifted. A bulky envelope sat on the edge of his desk. I squinted. Big black letters: CRIMINOLOGY.

I tapped it. “What’s that?”

Carter finally looked up. “Assignments.”

“From criminology?”

“Yes.”

I blinked. “You teach criminology too?”

“No. Substitute for a while.”

I stared at the envelope. Criminology. Which meant… Liam’s.

A devilish thought sparked. What if I graded his paper a big fat zero?

I picked up my pen, twirling it between my fingers.

Carter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t.”

I gasped. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, slumping back in my chair. “But it would’ve been so satisfying.”

“Grow up,” he said.

“You’re no fun.”

“Never claimed to be.”

I grumbled under my breath and went back to grading.

Minutes turned into hours. The essays blurred together. The ink on my pen started fading. My head got heavier and heavier until—

I yawned. Loud.

The next thing I knew, I was out cold.

When I woke up, the office was dim. My head was resting on the desk, cheek against the papers. Something heavy and warm was draped over my shoulders.

I blinked.

A suit jacket. Black. Expensive. Smelled faintly of cologne.

Carter’s.

My heart did a weird thing.

I sat up fast, rubbing my eyes. The clock on the wall glared at me: 4:55.

Shit. Results.

Professor Richards said they’d be out by five.

I panicked, shrugged the jacket off carefully, folded it, and set it on the desk. Carter wasn’t there. The office was silent.

Perfect time to run.

I bolted.

By the time I reached the library, I was breathless. Maya was already there, hunched over a computer, muttering curses.

“Maya!” I gasped, sliding into the seat next to her.

She jumped. “Jesus, Eli, you scared me. Were you still with professor Vale?”

“Long story. Results?”

She nodded grimly. “Portal just updated.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh no.”

She clicked the mouse with exaggerated drama. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

We closed our eyes at the same time. I cracked one open. “You check first.”

“No, you!”

“Fine. Together.”

“Count of three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

We both peeked at the screen.

Her groan was instant. “Shit.”

I held my breath and looked.

81.

My whole body sagged in relief. “Oh my God. I passed. I actually passed.”

Maya shoved her screen toward me. “Look. Seventy-nine. Barely. I wanted at least an eighty.”

I stared at her. “You’re crying about a seventy-nine? That’s amazing!”

She flopped back dramatically. “I wanted a distinction.”

“Be grateful, Maya. Do you know how many people failed?”

She squinted at me. “Eli, I swear, you’re like a grandma sometimes. Be grateful, work hard, blah blah.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

She smirked. “So. What did you get again?”

I tried to look casual. “Eighty-one.”

Her jaw dropped. “You beat me? Even when you didn't study early?”

I grinned. “Guess I’m smarter.”

She shoved my shoulder. “Asshole.”

I laughed, still shaky from relief. “At least we didn’t fail.”

Maya nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. But if that old man keeps grading this fast, I’m going to die young.”

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. “Join the club.”

For a moment, everything was quiet.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about the jacket.

About Carter draping it over me without a word.

And what it meant.

******

CARTER

He was asleep.

Head tilted against his arm, lips parted, hair falling into his eyes. Completely out.

For a long second, I stood there, watching.

Ridiculous. Beautiful.

For a guy.

I reached for my jacket before I could think too much about it. Draped it over his shoulders. He shifted slightly, sighing into the fabric like he’d been waiting for it.

I swallowed. My jaw clenched.

What the hell are you doing, Carter?

This was Liam’s ex. A student. My assistant. Off-limits in every way.

I turned back to my desk. Forced myself to work. Typed reports. Replied to emails. Anything to keep my eyes away from him.

It didn’t work.

Every few minutes, I glanced up again. At the way his chest rose and fell. The faint crease between his brows, even in sleep. Like he was still carrying the world in his dreams.

I pushed back from my chair abruptly and stalked to the bathroom.

Cold water. Hands. Face.

“Get a grip,” I muttered at my reflection. “He’s a kid.”

When I came back, the chair was empty. My desk bare. My jacket folded neatly where I’d left it.

He was gone.

I sat heavily, staring at the computer screen, not seeing the words. My mind was still back at the desk. The quiet weight of my jacket over his shoulders.

Ridiculous.

Then the door burst open.

Eli stood there, flushed, breathless. “I’m so sorry—”

I raised a brow. “For what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, panting slightly. “I… had to check my results. Richards posted them. I didn’t want you to think I just disappeared.”

I nodded once. “Noted.”

Silence stretched. He fidgeted under it.

Finally, I said, “Arrange the documents before you leave.”

“Oh—yeah. Of course.”

He scrambled to the desk, pulling folders into neat stacks. His hands moved fast, like he wanted to impress me. Papers squared, pens lined up, everything precise.

When he finished, he looked up uncertainly. “All done.”

I gave a curt nod. “Good.”

He hesitated like he wanted to say more. Then the knock came.

The door opened and Maya Adeniran leaned in, smiling like she owned the place.

“Professor Vale.”

I inclined my head. “Miss Adeniran.”

“Eli, you ready?” she asked, eyes flicking between us.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just finished.”

Maya grinned, then looked at me again. “See you in class, Professor.”

“Of course.”

Eli gathered his bag. They left together, voices echoing down the hall.

Silence settled back in.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes on the neatly folded jacket.

Still warm from him.

Pathetic.