My Best Friend’s Brother Is My Professor—And He Wants Me

Elena Carson

The first time Killian Davenport broke my heart, I was thirteen years old.

The second time happened tonight when his sister looked up from her phone and casually said, “My brother is back.”

That was barely an hour ago, and my heart still hasn’t recovered.

I swallow hard, staring at the pile of clothes scattered across my closet like they can somehow save me. I planned to wear something simple tonight, jeans and a cute blouse, for Nora’s birthday party. It’s basically the safe and invisible option I always pick for any outing.

But the moment Nora dropped that bomb, everything changed. Because if Killian is really back in New York after so many years, I don’t want to look like the awkward little girl he used to ignore.

I want to look… God, I don’t even know what I want. I just know my hands are shaking as I grab the black corset dress Nora gifted me months ago for my twentieth birthday.

“He’s not coming to the party,” I remind myself, trying to breathe.

Nora said he’s with their father. Thank God. I do feel relieved. So why does it feel like something in my chest just tightened?

I swallow hard, and for a second I hate how easily my mind drifts back to thirteen years old me, crying into my pillow because he left without even saying goodbye while I desperately stared at photos of him I'd stolen from Nora’s drawer.

God!

If I can just survive this party and disappear into the new semester on Monday, I can keep pretending I’m over him.

But deep down, I know the truth.

I’ve never been over Killian Davenport.

A sharp knock on my bedroom door startles me.

“Elena! Are you still not ready?” Nora bursts into the room, looking like a goddess in a short silver dress.

Her long dark hair is styled in a perfect bun, and she has that rich-girl glowy skin that turns heads everywhere she goes.

“I’m almost done,” I lie.

Nora flops onto my bed, narrowing her eyes at me. “Girl, you’re acting strange. This is my birthday. What’s going on with you?”

I force a laugh and slip out of my shirt. “Nothing. So… Killian really isn’t showing up tonight?”

“Nah, he’s with Dad.” She shrugs. “You know how he gets.”

The relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle. But right behind it comes something that feels dangerously like disappointment.

I hate myself for it.

Nora suddenly pulls me to the dresser and pushes me into the chair.

“By the way, I saw him a few months ago in London. He’s still the same, stupidly hot and annoyingly broody.” She smirks at me through the mirror as she starts doing my makeup. “I love him, but I don’t need him stealing the spotlight at my party.”

My chest squeezes painfully tight. Of course they’re close. Nora visits him every summer. She even begged me to come with her last year, but I made up some lame excuse. Now part of me can’t stop wondering what would have happened if I’d gone.

I stop thinking altogether. Thinking about Killian Davenport has never once led anywhere good for me.

Instead, I focus on my reflection when Nora steps back.

The black corset dress clings to every curve, pushing my breasts up and stopping dangerously high on my thighs. My long dark hair cascades over my shoulders, and the makeup Nora did made my eyes look bigger, darker… almost seductive.

I look good.

I immediately tug the hem down.

“Stop that!” Nora smacks my hand away. “You look fucking hot.”

She shoves a pair of heels at me. “Put these on. We’re late, and Sydney doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Ten minutes later, we were speeding toward the club in her flaming red Porsche whose name is also Sydney. Nora is talking excitedly about the guest list, the DJ, and how tonight is going to be legendary. She warns me again not to bring up her father who’s also the reason Killian has finally come back after seven long years.

I nod and laugh at the right moments, but inside, all I can think about is him.

Please don’t let him show up tonight.

We finally pull up in front of the Elites Club. I take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside my chest. My pulse is so loud I can feel it in my throat.

Nora steps out first, glowing with excitement. I follow, legs shaky, silently cursing myself.

Get it together, Elena.

I’m usually the calm one. The collected one. Not this nervous, unraveling mess.

The moment we walk inside, the loud music hits me like a wall. Bodies grind together under flashing blue and purple lights. The air smells like perfume, alcohol, and heat. I pinch my arm hard, trying to ground myself as I follow Nora through the crowd toward the VIP section.

I force a smile when we reach her friends. Some I recognize, most I don’t. Nora greets everyone with hugs and laughter while I quietly sit in the corner, nursing my drink, fingers tapping nervously against my thigh.

After a while, Nora drags me to the dance floor. I really try to lose myself in the music. I take two shots, then a third. For a few blissful minutes, it almost works.

Until the thirst hits.

“I’ll be right back,” I shout over the music, slipping away before Nora can follow.

I push through the sea of bodies toward the bar, my heart still hammering from the alcohol and nerves.

“One cranberry vodka, please…”

My voice dies instantly.

There, leaning casually against the sleek marble counter with a glass of whiskey in his hand, is Killian Davenport.

Much taller than I remember. He’s wearing a tailored black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms and hints of tattoos I’ve never seen before. His jet-black hair is slightly messy. His jaw is sharp enough to cut glass, and those intense grey eyes scan the crowd with lazy indifference.

The years have turned him into something dangerous. The quiet, untouchable older brother I once worshipped from afar now looks like a man who could destroy me without even trying.

His gaze drifts across the room… and then stops.

On me.

My heart stops.

He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.