I turned in the essay on time.
I sat in the back row.
I kept my eyes on my notes.

Avery stopped watching me like she was collecting evidence. The midterm grades posted. Mine came back a clean, respectable B-minus — high enough to pull my average out of the danger zone, low enough that no one asked questions. Elias returned the papers in class without looking at me longer than anyone else. Professional. Distant. Safe.

The arrangement was over.
Or it should have been.

Three days after the grades went up I stayed behind when the lecture hall emptied. He was erasing the board with the same precise strokes...