3 Sienna.
I never liked faculty parties. They were always the same: polite smiles, the tinkle of ice in cheap glasses, everyone pretending to be more relaxed than they were. Usually, I just stuck to the edge of the room, looking busy with a drink, counting the minutes until I could leave. But tonight, I was painfully aware of every detail.
Of him.
Dr. Wolfe stood on the far side of the room, half-shaded by a cluster of staff and visiting alumni. Even with all those people between us, I could feel the way his gaze moved over me, searching for the smallest shift or the smallest slip. It made my skin tingle. I was in a black dress that hugged my hips, lips painted a deep red, hair tamed into careful waves that felt nothing like me.
All night, I felt his eyes. When I laughed at something m
