Narrow Escapes
The campus hummed with frantic energy as finals week loomed. Students packed the libraries, study lounges, and any corner offering a quiet surface to cram notes. Cruz, despite her usual confidence, felt the pressure. She juggled a whirlwind of last-minute memorization for Professor Asif’s exam while secretly dating the very TA assigned to that course.
In these final days before the exam, a subtle shift defined Cruz and Aaliyah’s interactions: they had grown more comfortable stealing private moments, but the stakes were higher than ever. Each night, Cruz reminded herself that just one slip in front of the wrong person could blow up both their reputations.
Still, they pressed on. The swirl of hidden kisses and covert study sessions made the tension between them as addictive as it was risky.
--
Late one afternoon, Aaliyah texted Cruz:
[Aaliyah]: I have the TA office free for a couple hours. If you want last-minute review, come by.
[Cruz]: Perfect. On my way.
Her heart skittered. She’d rarely suggested using her office, conscious that it was a high-risk location, but time was short, and the classroom spaces were packed with exam study groups. We’ll be careful, she reassured herself, ignoring the nervous twist in her gut.
Cruz hurried across campus, backpack slung over her shoulder. The spring sun dipped low, casting long shadows on the building corridors. Her pulse leaped with anticipation. Office = privacy. She tried not to dwell on how this might end if someone discovered them in a compromising pose.
Reaching the TA office—a cramped room lined with file cabinets and textbooks—she found the door slightly ajar. Aaliyah stood inside, arms crossed, eyes scanning a small stack of papers. She wore a fitted sweater and pencil skirt that gave her an air of polished authority. Cruz swallowed, a wave of attraction roiling through her. Dangerous, but impossible to resist.
--
“Hey,” Aaliyah said softly, locking the door behind Cruz. “How’s your review going?”
Cruz dropped her bag by the desk, her gaze drifting over Aaliyah’s sweater clinging to her curves. “It’s good,” she murmured, stepping close. “Though every time we meet, we end up doing more… than studying.”
Aaliyah’s eyes flicked to the door, ensuring it was firmly closed. We have to be cautious. “Let’s focus first, yes? We can’t risk anything too bold in here.” Yet she tilted her head, lips curving in a faint smile that belied her caution.
Cruz set out her notes, pulling up a chair. “Okay, Ms. Amrohi,” she teased, adopting a hushed tone. “Quiz me. I want to nail down the Middle Eastern boundary disputes one last time.”
Aaliyah’s cheeks colored slightly at the playful “Ms. Amrohi.” Why does it thrill me so much? She steadied herself, flipping open a course textbook. “Let’s start with the lead-up to the Sykes-Picot Agreement. Summarize the motivations of foreign powers.”
Cruz launched into an explanation, occasionally faltering on dates. Aaliyah corrected her gently, her teacherly persona taking over. They fell into a comfortable back-and-forth about colonial legacies, political transitions, and modern governance challenges. For a while, it felt purely academic.
--
Yet the closeness and hush in the office made every moment crackle with awareness. A few times, Cruz brushed her knee against Aaliyah’s, or Aaliyah rested a hand on Cruz’s shoulder, leaning over to point at a passage. Each small contact fueled the undercurrent of desire they tried to restrain.
After about thirty minutes, they took a break. Cruz stretched, rolling her stiff neck. “My brain’s fried. But I think I remember everything.”
Aaliyah bit her lip. “Let’s do a quick short-answer drill.” She hesitated, eyes flicking to Cruz’s parted lips. “Then maybe we can… relax.”
Cruz’s stomach did a flip. “Deal.” She breathed in the faint scent of Aaliyah’s perfume. Focus first. Then we see what happens.
They dashed through a lightning round of Q&A about key historical figures and treaties. Cruz’s answers came confidently, each correct response earning a small, approving nod from Aaliyah. Excitement built in Cruz’s chest—a combination of pride in her readiness and the thrill of pleasing Aaliyah.
--
“See? You’re ready,” Aaliyah said softly, setting down her notes. “I’m proud of you.” Her voice carried a new warmth, lips curving in admiration.
Cruz felt her heart flutter. She reached across the narrow desk, curling fingers around Aaliyah’s hand. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” The gratitude was sincere but overshadowed by the urge to bridge the gap between them.
Aaliyah’s chest tightened. We’re alone, but we can’t forget the location. Still, the desire to close that distance overwhelmed caution. She slid her chair closer, knees brushing Cruz’s. “You’re amazing, with or without me.” The words escaped gently.
Cruz’s grin turned mischievous. “You keep feeding me lines like that, Ms. Amrohi, you’ll never get rid of me.” She leaned in, half-lidding her eyes. Aaliyah inhaled, feeling the heat coil in her belly. A quick kiss can’t hurt, right?
She nodded, letting Cruz press her lips softly to hers. The hush of the office, the faint hum of the overhead fluorescent light, made the contact feel electrifying. A hush kiss turned into a deeper one as Aaliyah parted her mouth, inviting Cruz to explore. Cruz responded, hooking an arm around Aaliyah’s waist, pulling them flush.
A quiet moan slipped from Aaliyah’s throat. She dragged her nails lightly over Cruz’s shoulder. This is insane, but I want it so badly. The knowledge that they were in a TA office—forbidden—only heightened the adrenaline.
--
Suddenly, the corridor outside echoed with footsteps. Voices, one male, one female, drifted closer. Cruz and Aaliyah froze, lips still locked for a split second, hearts jackhammering. Then a voice distinctly belonging to Professor Asif sounded from just outside: “Yes, she should be in the TA office…”
Panic struck them like a lightning bolt. They pulled apart, eyes wide in alarm. Aaliyah’s heart roared in her ears. Asif is right here. She frantically motioned for Cruz to gather her notes and look normal. Cruz scrambled to toss a loose paper aside, fumbling her backpack.
Aaliyah shot out of her chair, smoothing her hair and blouse, trying to quell the flush in her cheeks. She wiped lipstick smudges from her mouth with a shaky hand. Cruz plopped back into her seat, flipping open a textbook as if reading.
Knock, knock. The doorknob rattled. Aaliyah cleared her throat, voice quavering, “Yes?”
The door creaked open. Professor Asif’s stern face poked in, accompanied by a junior instructor. “Ah, Ms. Amrohi,” he said, scanning the small room. His gaze traveled to Cruz, who pretended intense concentration on the text. “I see you’re busy.”
Aaliyah forced a composed nod. “Professor, hello. I’m just reviewing last-minute questions with Ms. Manuelos for the final.”
Cruz’s head bobbed in a stiff greeting. “Afternoon, Professor.”
Asif’s sharp eyes flicked between them, lingering a fraction too long. Anxiety coiled in Aaliyah’s gut. He suspects something. She struggled to keep a neutral expression.
--
The junior instructor behind Asif coughed politely. “We needed to check a reference for next semester’s syllabus, but we can come back later if you’re in session.”
Aaliyah seized the out. “Yes, we’re just finishing. Ms. Manuelos wanted clarity on boundary disputes, so I was clarifying references.”
Cruz forced a polite half-smile. “Just trying to get a better handle on the final exam material, sir.”
Asif’s lips pressed thin. He offered a curt nod, stepping partly into the room. “I see. Ms. Manuelos, I hope you’re finding Ms. Amrohi’s guidance… adequate.” The slightest hint of suspicion laced his tone.
Cruz willed her cheeks not to burn, heart pounding. “Yes, absolutely,” she said evenly. “She’s been a big help.”
A tense pause hung in the air. Then Asif cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll just retrieve a file from the cabinet. Don’t let me interrupt your session.” He moved past them, rummaging in a drawer. Aaliyah stood rigid, feigning calm. Cruz kept her gaze on her notes, though her pulse hammered.
After a minute of rustling, Asif grunted in satisfaction. “Got it. Carry on.” He nodded toward them, turning to leave. The junior instructor followed, giving the pair a polite smile.
--
The door closed, leaving the two women in a frazzled hush. They exhaled, tension thrumming in the air. Aaliyah pressed a hand to her temple. That was too close. She looked at Cruz, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to scream. “He almost… we almost—”
Cruz let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.” She ran a hand through her hair, shoulders tight. “I thought we were done for.”
Aaliyah’s lips quivered, adrenaline spiking in the aftermath. “If he saw us like that— I’d be in so much trouble. My entire academic career could blow up.” Her voice trembled with the severity of it. I can’t lose everything for a slip.
Cruz crossed the tiny office, gently squeezing Aaliyah’s arm. “Hey, we recovered. We’re okay.”
Aaliyah swallowed, stepping back to avoid another accidental brush that might reignite her desire. Fear churned in her belly. “This is too risky. I— I didn’t realize how it’d feel to almost get caught by Asif.” Her eyes shone with worry. Am I risking my entire future?
Cruz’s face fell. She hated seeing Aaliyah so distressed. “I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t… do this in your office. We can keep it outside campus or something.” She paused, voice soft. “But I don’t want to lose what we have.”
Aaliyah inhaled, pressing trembling fingers to her lips. The memory of their near-discovery, the weight of scandal—it hammered her mind. Yet she recalled the sweet ache of Cruz’s kiss, the comfort of her presence. I don’t want to end it either.
She took Cruz’s hand, eyes glassy. “I’m just scared. One more slip, and it’s not just me—it’s you too. People might assume you only passed the final because…” She trailed off, voice straining.
Cruz’s jaw tightened. “I know. It’s unfair.” She locked eyes with Aaliyah. “But you’re worth the risk. We just need to be more careful.”
Aaliyah fought the urge to kiss her again, but the fresh memory of Asif’s suspicious look kept her in check. She nodded, trying to calm her racing heart. “Yes, we’ll be more careful. No more office visits, okay?”
Cruz exhaled in relief, offering a tentative smile. “Deal. No more tempting fate in your office.”
They stood a moment in uneasy silence, the leftover adrenaline thrumming. Finally, Aaliyah forced a wry chuckle. “I guess this is enough study for the day.” She tried to lighten the mood. “You basically know everything anyway.”
Cruz mustered a grin. “I’m feeling good about the exam, thanks to you.”
They tidied up the table, collecting papers and notebooks. Aaliyah hovered by the door, still rattled by the close call. Cruz caught her gaze, hesitating. Normally, I’d kiss her goodbye. But not here, not after that scare.
Instead, Cruz gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll text you later, okay?” She kept her voice at a whisper.
Aaliyah nodded, eyes glimmering with lingering worry. “Yes. And… be safe. If Asif sees you leaving—”
Cruz managed a small laugh. “I’ll pretend I’m just finishing up. Don’t worry.”
They parted, hearts heavy. Cruz slipped into the hallway, casual posture, hoping no one questioned why she’d spent so long in a TA’s office. She nodded politely to a passing student, trying to appear normal. We escaped this time. But Aaliyah’s fear echoed in her own chest, spurring her to vow they’d be more cautious.
--
As soon as Cruz left, Aaliyah locked the office door, leaning against it. The silence pressed in, reminding her how nearly they’d been discovered. Fear twisted her stomach. I can’t let that happen again. The cost was too high—her PhD, her credibility, everything. Yet the thought of ending it tore at her heart.
She paced the tiny space. We have to keep it secret—only for a little longer, until the final was done, grades submitted. Then no one could accuse them of crossing a line academically. But the tension weighed on her, draining the euphoric thrill of stolen kisses.
She glanced at the desk where they’d been studying, remembering Cruz’s bright eyes, her fearless grin. I can’t lose that. I just have to hold out a bit longer. With a shaky breath, Aaliyah tucked her materials into a folder, preparing to leave. The day’s close call lingered like a shadow at her back.
--
Meanwhile, Cruz strode across campus, heart hammering with leftover adrenaline. The winter air stung her lungs, but she barely noticed. She replayed the near-discovery in her head, conjuring Asif’s suspicious glare. A wave of protective anger and guilt tangled inside her. Aaliyah’s risking so much. Am I being selfish?
Yet the memory of her trembling in Cruz’s arms, the relief they shared when they realized they weren’t caught, fueled her resolve. We’ll make it through. She just had to pass the final, free them from the taboo. She told herself it’d be easier once she was no longer a student in Aaliyah’s class.
She checked her phone—no new messages. Of course, it’s only been minutes. She decided to keep studying on her own for the rest of the day, ignoring the pang of longing to see Aaliyah again. Their relationship demanded self-control if they were to survive finals unscathed.
--
That evening, alone in her apartment, Aaliyah sat at her desk, dissertation notes open. She couldn’t focus. Her mind replayed the day’s close call on repeat. She pictured Asif rummaging the file cabinet while they tried to act calm. What if he’d entered just one minute earlier, saw us kissing?
Her stomach twisted. I can’t let a single moment ruin both our futures. Yet she also remembered the spark in Cruz’s eyes, the determination to reassure her. That thought soothed her frayed nerves somewhat. Cruz was strong, a survivor. We’ll handle it.
She forced herself to reread her dissertation chapter, highlighting sections, scribbling notes for revision. Eventually, her phone buzzed:
[Cruz]: You okay?
A pang of relief. She typed back:
[Aaliyah]: I’m okay. Still a bit shaken. You?
[Cruz]: Fine. Just worried about you.
A soft smile touched her lips. She replied:
[Aaliyah]: I’ll be fine. Let’s be careful. Finals will be over soon.
[Cruz]: Agreed. We’ve got this.
A warmth settled in her chest. Yes, we do.
--
In the days that followed, they avoided the TA office entirely. No more library makeouts either, not wanting a second near-miss with random faculty. Instead, they texted frequently, found spots in the bustling cafeteria to talk academically, or strolled across campus in broad daylight, keeping a polite distance that let them appear like any other student and TA.
When they needed closeness, they’d meet off-campus, in quieter corners of the city. A short coffee date here, a brief park bench moment there, each time checking over their shoulders. The tension pressed on them, but the countdown to the exam gave them hope. Just pass the exam and we’re free.