Darrell

I watched Bella through the half-open blinds, that slow, almost hesitant sway in her hips as she crossed the courtyard toward my private wing of the faculty residence. The wide-brimmed hat shielded most of her face, but I could still make out the nervous way she kept glancing left and right, like she expected someone to jump out and call her name. Sunglasses perched on her nose even though the late-afternoon sun was already dipping behind the palms. Cute. Desperate. Delicious.

The knock came softer than I expected—three quick taps, polite, almost apologetic.

I let her wait a full ten seconds before I crossed the room and pulled the...