Hidden Flames
Sunlight crept through the blinds of Cruz’s dorm room, illuminating the mess of textbooks and rumpled bedding that bore evidence of a late-night study habit. She stirred awake, blinking against the soft glow. Her heart beat faster the moment she recalled the previous night: the pounding party, Aaliyah’s fierce kiss in front of everyone, and then the quiet walk afterward where they’d decided to figure this out.
A knock rattled her door. “Manuelos, you alive?” Bobby’s muffled voice called from the hall.
Cruz yawned, rolling out of bed and hurrying to unlock the door. Bobby stood there, eyebrows raised. “So you disappear with someone last night, and now you look like you overslept.”
Heat flushed Cruz’s cheeks as she quickly ushered Bobby inside. “I—maybe. But can we not talk about it out here?” She glanced both ways. The dorm corridor was mostly quiet, but a single eavesdropper could ruin everything.
Bobby snorted, stepping in. “Sure. Spill. Did you and Ms. TA finally—?”
Cruz shut the door, pressing her palm against it. She exhaled, heart fluttering. “We… yeah. I guess we did.” A shy smile crept across her face, memories of that passionate kiss sending warmth through her. “We’re, um, trying to keep it lowkey for the next couple of weeks, you know? Until finals end and I’m no longer a student.”
Bobby’s expression softened, a grin tugging at her lips. “You sure that’s wise? She’s still your TA until the final exam is done.”
Cruz shrugged. “She’s aware of the risks. So am I. But we can’t just wait forever.” Her voice dropped. “We’re keeping it on the down-low. So, keep your mouth shut.”
Bobby held up her hands defensively. “Your secret’s safe with me—just be careful. The rumor mill’s savage if it catches wind of a TA-student romance.”
Cruz nodded, nerves fluttering. We’ll be careful. A thrill shot through her. They’d spent so long avoiding each other; now they had a chance, even if it was hush-hush. She rubbed her eyes, checking the time. “I have to shower and study. I guess Aaliyah—well, she said she’d help me prep for the final.”
Bobby’s eyebrows rose again. “A personal tutor session, hmm?”
Cruz rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Stop. It’s purely academic… sort of.”
Bobby grinned. “Sure.” She gave a quick pat on Cruz’s shoulder. “Good luck with your ‘studying,’ Manny.” With a playful wink, she left.
Cruz exhaled once more, pressing her forehead to the door. Secret relationship, final exam, and I still need to pass everything with flying colors. Her heart thumped, half with excitement, half with the tension of being caught. But a longing for Aaliyah overshadowed the fear. We’ll make it work.
--
Across town, Aaliyah woke in her apartment with a mixture of elation and nerves. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the dizzying events: the blazing kiss on the dancefloor, the hush of the sidewalk, the decision to keep it a secret until finals ended. I can’t believe I did that in front of half the track team.
She rolled over and checked her phone. A flurry of texts from her socialite friends—Malika, Nala, Nashwa—who apparently had the time of their lives last night. Among their messages:
[Malika]: OMG you two kissing was hotter than anything in Ibiza.
[Nashwa]: Is this official now?? #LadyAndTheLadyTrampNoMore??
[Nala]: We’re dying for details. Spill ASAP.
Aaliyah felt a jolt of embarrassment. They saw everything. She typed a quick reply:
[Aaliyah]: We’re figuring it out quietly. Please, no big drama.
She set the phone aside, swinging her legs over the bed. Tension coiled in her gut. I can’t let the department or Professor Asif find out. She was so close to finishing her PhD, so close to finalizing everything academically. And Cruz still has her final exam. The line was razor-thin. If anyone discovered they were dating now, it might cause a scandal.
Yet the memory of Cruz’s arms around her, the intense heat of their kiss, sent warmth through her veins. I can’t regret it.
--
Around midday, Aaliyah texted Cruz:
[Aaliyah]: How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay?
She hovered, biting her lip. A minute later:
[Cruz]: Still alive. Studying. You?
[Aaliyah]: Same. Maybe we can go over some final exam material later?
Her heart pounded. We used to keep it so formal, but now it’s loaded with new meaning. Another reply popped in:
[Cruz]: Definitely. Library? Or your place?
Aaliyah stared at the screen, nerves twisting. Meeting in public was safer, but meeting at her apartment gave them privacy. Privacy… but is that too risky? She typed:
[Aaliyah]: Let’s start in the library. Then maybe we can do a last run-through at my place if we need more quiet?
[Cruz]: Perfect. See you soon.
Aaliyah let out a breath. We’ll manage. She hopped in the shower, mind buzzing with half-formed fantasies: stolen kisses in the stacks, sneaky touches. The mere thought of it made her cheeks flush. Focus on the exam, she told herself—but her heart soared at the idea of mixing academia with stolen intimacy.
--
Late afternoon found the campus library bustling with anxious students. Finals week neared, tension thick in the air. Cruz navigated the rows of shelves, scanning for a free table. She spotted Aaliyah near the reference desk, wearing a demure blouse and fitted jeans, hair pinned back—looking like the serious TA. But I know what she looks like in a black miniskirt. Heat shot through Cruz’s chest.
Aaliyah spotted her and smiled softly, gesturing to a table tucked behind a tall bookshelf. Cruz approached, heart flickering with excitement. They exchanged a quick, subtle glance, mindful of onlookers. Must keep it professional in public.
They settled, textbooks and notes spread out. Aaliyah cleared her throat. “Let’s start with the key historical events leading up to mid-20th-century shifts.” She spoke in a low, teacherly tone. “Which figure shaped that boundary dispute?”
Cruz recited a name, flipping through her notes. “Correct,” Aaliyah murmured, nodding. She leaned in, voice dropping. “You’re good on this part. Let’s check your notes on post-colonial transitions.”
As they delved deeper into the material, they maintained polite academic composure. But under the table, Aaliyah’s knee brushed Cruz’s, sending sparks up Cruz’s spine. Keep it together, Cruz reminded herself.
--
Midway through their study, Aaliyah handed Cruz a well-worn text, leaning close so their shoulders touched. “Look at page 212. That’s crucial for your final’s essay question.” Their cheeks nearly brushed, the faint scent of Aaliyah’s perfume making Cruz’s head spin.
Cruz inhaled, lips parted, longing to kiss the curve of Aaliyah’s neck. Focus on the final. She swallowed. “Right, page 212.” She scanned the page, but her mind was half on the warmth of Aaliyah’s closeness.
Aaliyah’s lips quirked. Her voice low, she teased, “If you get through this chapter thoroughly, maybe I’ll give you a reward.” A playful light danced in her eyes.
Cruz nearly choked. “Reward?”
Aaliyah’s cheeks tinged pink, but she held Cruz’s gaze boldly. “You heard me. Like a… a little incentive to keep you focused.”
Heat coiled in Cruz’s belly. “What kind of incentive?”
Aaliyah arched a brow. “Finish the chapter, and you’ll find out.” She tapped the page pointedly, shifting back to professional mode. “Now read.”
Cruz bit back a grin. So that’s how it is. She forced herself to scan each paragraph meticulously, adrenaline thrumming at the promise behind Aaliyah’s words.
--
After diligently plowing through the chapter, Cruz exhaled. “Okay, done.” She tapped the page. “I get how these colonial legacies shaped modern boundaries. Satisfied?”
Aaliyah glanced over the notes. “Looks thorough.” Then she offered a subtle smirk, cheeks coloring. “Shall we verify your comprehension?”
Cruz’s heart leaped. “Sure.”
They exchanged a conspiratorial look. Aaliyah nodded toward the towering shelves of books. “Follow me.” They slipped away from the table, weaving between tall stacks in a quieter corner of the library. Only the faint hum of AC and distant murmurs accompanied them.
At the darkest row, hidden from view, Aaliyah turned to Cruz. Her eyes shone with mischief. “Study reward time,” she murmured.
Cruz’s pulse hammered. God, we’re about to do this in a library. Aaliyah’s hand curled around Cruz’s wrist, pulling her closer, until they were chest to chest. Their breath mingled, tension crackling.
Cruz leaned in first, capturing Aaliyah’s lips in a soft, urgent kiss. Aaliyah responded immediately, parting her mouth to deepen it. The hush of the library seemed deafening. They kept it quiet, desperate not to draw attention, but the heat between them built quickly.
Aaliyah’s hand slipped around Cruz’s waist, sliding under the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. Cruz shivered, pressing Aaliyah against the shelf, the faint rustle of old books behind them. A needy sigh escaped Aaliyah, muffled by their joined lips.
Their tongues met in a slow swirl—sweet, hungry—a risk-laden dance in this public space. We have to keep it down. Cruz nearly forgot, the rush of desire threatening to overshadow reason. She cupped the back of Aaliyah’s neck, devouring every second.
Moments later, they broke apart, panting softly. Aaliyah’s face glowed, eyes heavy-lidded. “You’re studying so well,” she teased breathily. “I might have to keep rewarding you.”
Cruz inhaled shakily. “Then I’ll keep studying.” She pressed a final peck on Aaliyah’s lips, grinning. “Let’s get back before someone wonders where we went.”
--
They returned to the table, faces flushed. Cruz tried diving into the next section, but the images of that heated kiss clouded her mind. She eyed Aaliyah sideways. “Okay, you said you’d quiz me on post-independence politics, right?”
Aaliyah smirked, crossing her arms. “Yes. Let’s see if you retained anything from the reading.” She lapsed into a mock-stern TA persona, voice deeper, eyebrows arched. “Now, Ms. Manuelos, explain how the external powers shaped local governance structures post-1950.”
The shift in tone sent a shiver of anticipation through Cruz. She’s playing the teacher role. Something about that dynamic made her stomach flip with excitement. She cleared her throat, launching into an explanation. Aaliyah listened, eyes glinting, occasionally humming in approval.
When Cruz stumbled on a date, Aaliyah corrected her gently. “Careful with your timeline,” she chided, voice dropping to a near-purr. “If you want full marks, you need precision.”
Cruz’s pulse raced. This is unbelievably hot. She forced out the correct date, determined to excel. Aaliyah nodded, lips curving in a hint of a smile. “Good girl,” she murmured softly.
A jolt of heat shot down Cruz’s spine. She shifted, clearing her throat. “Uh, so do I get a reward for that, or…?”
Aaliyah’s eyes flicked around, ensuring no one was near. Then she leaned in, pressing a quick, tantalizing kiss to Cruz’s ear, whispering, “When we’re alone.”
Cruz nearly groaned out loud. Final exam or no final exam, I’m doomed. But the thrill pushed her to focus. She recited every detail, every nuance, chasing that praise in Aaliyah’s eyes.
--
As the afternoon wore on, they repeated this pattern—reading, quizzing, stolen kisses. Occasionally, Aaliyah would brush her hand across Cruz’s arm under the table, or slide her foot along Cruz’s calf. Each fleeting contact ignited new sparks, intensifying their bond.
At one point, Aaliyah excused herself, and Cruz found her again among the stacks. This time, Aaliyah pinned Cruz against the shelves, hush in her voice. “You’re so tempting, but we have to keep quiet.” The tension in her words made Cruz grin.
Cruz captured Aaliyah’s mouth in a slow, thorough kiss, their bodies pressed together. The hush of the library and the knowledge of prying eyes a few rows away only heightened the thrill. The solid spines of books pressed into Aaliyah’s back as Cruz’s hand slid under her blouse, tracing gentle circles. Aaliyah whimpered, quickly silencing herself, burying her face in Cruz’s shoulder. We can’t get caught.
They parted again, breathless, eyes dancing with mischief. No one discovered them, but the pulse-pounding risk left them both shaky and grinning as they returned to the table.
--
Hours later, the library had thinned out. Cruz’s brain felt stuffed with facts on colonialism, post-war treaties, and modernization theories. She leaned back, stretching. “I think I’ve memorized half of Middle Eastern history by now.”
Aaliyah smirked, discreetly running a finger along Cruz’s wrist. “You did well. You’re nearly done with the sections we planned.” Her voice dropped, eyes full of promise. “Ready for your final reward?”
Cruz’s pulse skipped. “You mean…?”
Aaliyah’s cheeks warmed, but she nodded. “If you want, we can go to my place for a bit. My friends are probably out partying again, so they won’t randomly barge in.” She averted her eyes, a faint pink on her cheeks. Is this too bold?
Cruz’s heart soared. “Yes. Let’s go.” Tension coiled in her belly at the thought of being truly alone with Aaliyah.
They quickly packed up, tossing books and notes into backpacks. One last glance around to ensure no suspicious onlookers, then they slipped out of the library, shoulders brushing. The night air greeted them again, cooler now, the campus quieter. Finals loomed, but for the moment, they had stolen time.
--
A short ride later, they arrived at Aaliyah’s place—an upscale apartment building in Greenwich Village. The doorman offered a polite nod. Aaliyah held Cruz’s hand behind her back, not wanting to draw attention. Once inside the elevator, though, Aaliyah squeezed Cruz’s fingers, eyes glowing with excitement. We’re safe here.
At the apartment door, she fumbled with keys, tension thick. The second they were inside, Cruz kicked off her sneakers, scanning the minimalist but elegant décor. “You have a nice place,” she said softly, though her main focus was on Aaliyah.
Aaliyah shut the door, turned, and pinned Cruz with a smoldering gaze. “Finally alone,” she breathed, stepping closer. Cruz dropped her bag, and they collided in a hungry kiss. Aaliyah’s arms circled Cruz’s waist, pulling them flush as Cruz’s hands roamed under Aaliyah’s blouse. The taste of her mouth, the warmth of her body—Cruz could barely think straight. Yes.
They stumbled toward the living area, lips never parting. Aaliyah guided Cruz with slow, urgent steps until they reached the couch, the overhead lights dim. Cruz gasped at the sensation of Aaliyah’s thigh pressing between her legs, every nerve singing. But a note of restraint sparked. We should talk, not just—
Aaliyah pulled back slightly, chest heaving. “Bedroom or couch?”
Cruz’s mind whirled. Bedroom. She nodded, a rush of longing sweeping over her. “Yes, bedroom.”
--
They retreated to Aaliyah’s bedroom—tastefully decorated with a plush bed and a small desk stacked with academic books. The swirl of desire and taboo fueled their hearts. Student and TA, for a few more days. The risk only enhanced the excitement.
Inside, Aaliyah flicked on a soft lamp, offering faint illumination. She turned to Cruz, eyes dark. “You studied so well today. Let me show my gratitude,” she teased, echoing her earlier playful promise. Professor-student roleplay indeed.
Cruz’s grin turned mischievous. “Yes, Ms. Amrohi,” she said in a mock-innocent tone, stepping into Aaliyah’s arms. “I want to impress you.”
Aaliyah’s laugh melted into a sigh as their mouths met again, this time deeper, more unhurried. She pressed Cruz onto the bed, their bodies tangling. The faint smell of linen and Aaliyah’s perfume surrounded them. We have a small window before finals.
Still, they kept in mind the boundaries—intense kisses, wandering hands—a heated dance of discovering each other’s curves. Aaliyah nipped softly at Cruz’s lip, Cruz responded by trailing kisses down Aaliyah’s jaw. The lamp’s soft glow highlighted every breath, every tremor.
Tension crackled, their moans muffled by attempts to stay respectful of the building’s hush. But it never crossed into the territory of overshadowing the story—just enough heat to reaffirm their newly claimed intimacy. They were starved for closeness after so many weeks of heartbreak.
Cruz arched under Aaliyah’s touch, parted lips releasing a soft moan. In response, Aaliyah kissed down Cruz’s neck, whispering half-gasped remarks about how well Cruz had memorized chapter notes. Cruz giggled breathlessly, intoxicated by the mix of academic banter and raw attraction.
For a moment, Cruz let her hand slip under Aaliyah’s blouse, feeling the warm skin. Aaliyah shuddered, pressing a palm to Cruz’s chest, hearts thrumming in sync. The tension soared—but they both instinctively knew how far was comfortable at this stage. They wanted desire, not regret.
Eventually, the wave of passion ebbed enough to let them breathe and truly see each other—flushed cheeks, eyes shining with promise. Aaliyah dropped a light kiss on Cruz’s nose. “I guess that’s enough incentive for tonight,” she teased quietly, though her body still vibrated with want.
Cruz chuckled, pressing a final lingering kiss to Aaliyah’s lips. “Yeah… for now.”
--
They reclined on the bed, limbs entwined, letting the hush settle. Soft lamplight cast shadows on the walls. Aaliyah rested her head on Cruz’s shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of shampoo and newly discovered closeness.
Cruz stroked her hair absentmindedly, mind drifting to finals. “I still have a couple chapters left to read,” she murmured.
Aaliyah’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “Then tomorrow, we’ll pick up where we left off— academically and… otherwise.”
Cruz’s heart skipped. “I’ll hold you to that. Ms. TA.” She stressed the last words with a playful smirk, earning a soft laugh from Aaliyah.
A warm hush followed. Each recognized the ephemeral nature of this secrecy—once finals ended, they could be more open, but not yet. The risk only made the tension more intoxicating.
--
Sometime before dawn, Cruz slipped out of Aaliyah’s bed, throwing on her jeans and tee. She couldn’t risk being spotted leaving a TA’s apartment in daylight. Aaliyah stirred, blinking sleepily.
“You sure you have to go?” she asked, voice husky.
Cruz traced a finger over Aaliyah’s cheek. “Yeah. I should get back before the dorm staff do their rounds or anything.” She grimaced. “We said secret, right?”
Aaliyah nodded, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Secret for now.” She sat up, hugging Cruz briefly. “Text me when you’re home safe.”
Cruz leaned in for a final kiss—slow, tender. “Count on it.” Then she stole away, heart pounding with the thrill of clandestine romance.
--
The next day saw them repeating their routine—studying in the library with the rest of the campus in finals week panic. Cruz wore a faint, knowing smile, occasionally brushing her foot against Aaliyah’s under the table. No one else noticed, but it sent tingles up both their spines.
When they took a break to grab coffee, Aaliyah’s hand drifted along Cruz’s hip, hidden by a tall bookshelf. Cruz laughed softly, stepping away to avoid suspicion. We’re such clichés.
Moments later, a stressful question about historical policies led Cruz to panic. Aaliyah responded by pressing her into a secluded corner, capturing her lips in a firm, reassurance-laced kiss. “Relax,” she whispered. “You know this.” Cruz grinned, heart buoyed by the combination of academic support and stolen affection.
Each session ended with them scurrying into the stacks at least once, lips meeting in hush-hush makeouts, hands exploring. The library staff or other students never caught them, though sometimes they heard a random cough or footsteps. They’d freeze, giggling softly before continuing, adrenaline spiking each time.
--
By week’s end, Cruz’s confidence in her final exam soared. She answered Aaliyah’s quiz questions with clarity and nuance. Aaliyah teased her, “At this rate, you’ll get the highest mark. I won’t even have to curve your grade.”
Cruz smirked, leaning in, mindful of onlookers. “Think that earns me another bedroom reward?”
Aaliyah’s cheeks tinged pink. “Focus on your final, Ms. Manuelos,” she deadpanned, then added a soft wink. “But yes, maybe.”
They parted that afternoon with small, secret smiles, carefully stepping out of the library at separate times to avoid drawing suspicion. The thrill of secrecy remained, but each day it felt more natural—like they’d found a rhythm combining academic dedication and hidden passion.
--
Amid the stolen kisses and hush-hush studying, they both remained acutely aware of the ticking clock. The final exam approached fast. After the exam, the taboo would fade, though Aaliyah’s career and Cruz’s uncertain post-graduation plans still loomed. They’d promised to talk about it all—but not yet. One challenge at a time.
For now, their hearts soared with the novelty of kisses among dusty tomes, half-whispered jokes about “extra credit,” and the sly roleplay of TA tutoring her student. Their relationship blossomed in the cracks of finals week stress, each moment sweeter for its secrecy.
And so they moved forward—sneaking out of library corners, trading scorching glances over textbooks, pressing lips together in the hush of campus halls. Each new day ramped the tension, but also their closeness, forging a bond that overcame heartbreak, doubt, and moral lines for the sake of something real.