17: A Flicker of Possession Part 01

The university courtyard buzzed with the midday energy of students, their voices a lively hum against the backdrop of rustling leaves. Sunlight dappled through the newly unfurled foliage, painting shifting patterns on the brick pathways and illuminating clusters of students animatedly chatting on weathered benches. The air, carrying the faint sweetness of blooming jasmine and the distant thrum of a skateboard, offered a welcome reprieve from the sterile chill of the Cognitive Psychology Lab. Yet, as Liv and I walked towards the sun-drenched warmth, the knot of anxiety in my stomach, though slightly loosened, still clung like a persistent shadow, a residual unease that mirrored the phantom sensation of Professor Davies’s unwanted touch.

Liv, ever attuned to my subtle shifts in mood, noticed my quiet demeanor as we finally escaped the sterile fluorescent lights of the lab. “You okay, CeCe?” she asked, her brow furrowed with genuine concern, her steps slowing slightly as we walked towards the courtyard's inviting warmth. “You seemed a little… tense in there with Professor Davies. He was hovering around you quite a bit. More than usual, I thought.”

I forced a dismissive shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, my fingers fiddling with the strap of my bag. “Oh, you know Professor Davies. He’s just… enthusiastic about the subject matter, I guess. Maybe a little awkward sometimes, trying to be helpful to all of us.” I wanted to bury the unsettling feeling, to pretend it was nothing more than my own overactive imagination, a byproduct of the guilt and anxiety that had been my constant companions since… Asher.

“Enthusiastic is one word for it,” Liv said dryly, her gaze still fixed on me with a hint of suspicion. “But it felt… different today. Like his attention was really zeroed in on you. Remember when he kept ‘adjusting’ your posture while you were at the workstation? His hand stayed on your shoulder for ages. And the way he leaned in when you were looking at the statistical analysis… it was practically in your ear.” Liv’s brow furrowed deeper. “Did he… say anything weird?”

My stomach clenched at the memory, the cloying scent of his cologne flashing unpleasantly in my mind. “No, nothing specific. Just… you know, offering ‘guidance.’” I tried to make air quotes with my fingers, hoping to convey a sense of harmless awkwardness. “He’s just trying to make sure we all understand the concepts.”

“Awkward and helpful?” a familiar voice chuckled, and Julian’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close in a familiar embrace. A reflexive flinch went through me at his touch, a fleeting moment of wanting to pull away, his usual comforting hold suddenly feeling cloying and unwelcome compared to the memory of Asher's urgent, possessive grip, the demanding pressure of his hands on my skin. A subtle tightening in my chest and a faint wave of something akin to revulsion washed over me before I consciously forced myself to lean into him, plastering on a smile that felt brittle and false. “Everything alright, ladies? You both look a little… serious.”

Liv, however, didn’t drop the subject, her gaze still lingering on me with concern. “Actually, Jules, it was a bit more than awkward in there. He was really… focused on Cecilia. Lingering touches, leaning in close… it made me a little uncomfortable just watching. It felt… intrusive.” Her directness hung in the air as we approached a weathered picnic table where Asher and Isla were already sitting, comfortably close, Isla’s hand resting intimately on Asher’s thigh, her fingers possessively splayed against his jeans.

“Hey, guys,” Isla greeted us cheerfully, her arm linked possessively through Asher’s. Once we were all settled, Liv continued, recounting her observations in the lab with a frankness that made my stomach churn. “He kept finding excuses to be near Cecilia, touching her hand while she was working on the computer, that kind of thing.” Isla’s bright smile faded, replaced by a worried frown, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. “You should say something, CeCe. That doesn’t sound right.”

“Yeah, CeCe…” Julian echoed, his arm tightening around my waist, the familiar pressure now feeling like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the lie I was living and the betrayal I carried. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced by a flicker of genuine concern, his gaze searching mine with a worried intensity.

Asher, who had been listening quietly, his gaze mostly fixed on a distant point beyond the bustling courtyard, his expression carefully neutral, finally chimed in, his voice low and serious, a stark contrast to his usual easygoing tone. “You need to report him, CeCe. That’s not acceptable behavior.”

My defensiveness flared, a knee-jerk reaction to the sudden spotlight. “And what if I’m reading too much into it? What if I’m just being paranoid? He’s a professor; he has authority.”

Asher’s gaze sharpened, locking onto mine with a raw intensity that cut through my forced composure. It wasn't just concern in his eyes; there was a possessive fire, a mirroring of the forbidden desire that still throbbed between us, a silent, urgent communication that made my pulse leap despite the lingering chill of Professor Davies's attention. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and gravelly, laced with an undeniable possessiveness. “Liv saw it too, Cecilia,” he stated, his gaze unwavering, brooking no argument. “Don’t try to pretend you imagined it.” The possessive edge in his tone, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, sent a jolt of something dangerously akin to thrill through my unease.

Julian, his arm still a possessive band around my waist, shifted slightly, his brow furrowing with a flicker of confusion. His eyes flicked between Asher and me, a subtle tightening in his grip. “Everything alright, Ash?” he asked, a note of unease creeping into his usually easygoing tone.

Isla, who had been watching the exchange with a growing worry etched on her face, squeezed Asher’s thigh more firmly, her blue eyes narrowing with a dawning suspicion. She glanced at me, her expression a mixture of sympathy and quiet concern. The earlier unease she had voiced about our dynamic seemed to be solidifying.

Asher immediately softened his intense stare, running a hand through his dark hair, a forced nonchalance replacing the raw possessiveness. “Yeah, Jules, just… Davies gives me the creeps too, you know? Always has. If he’s making Cece uncomfortable, that’s not cool. We’ve known each other forever; I’m just looking out for her.” He offered Julian a reassuring nod.

Asher met Isla’s gaze, offering a slightly strained smile, his hand briefly covering hers on his thigh. “Hey,” he said, his tone gentler now. “CeCe’s a bit more reserved, might not speak up if something’s bothering her. We grew up together; I just want to make sure she’s okay. Nothing more to it.” He gave her hand a light squeeze before shifting his attention back to the general conversation, a subtle redirection aimed at easing her concern.