Thursday's class feels different.
Maybe it's because I know what his office smells like now. Know how it feels to stand inches from him with the door closed. Know what his voice sounds like when he admits I'm making him forget his reasons. Or maybe it's because he can't stop looking at me.
Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would notice. But I notice.
Every time he scans the room, his eyes linger on me for half a second too long. Every time he poses a question to the class, he looks my direction first. Small tells. Barely there. But they're there.
The lecture is on media ethics. Conflicts of interest. The responsibility that comes with influence and power. The irony isn't lost on either of us.
"When someone in a position of authority engages with someone who has less institutional power," he says, pacing slowly at the front of the room, "every interaction carries weight. Every choice matters. Because the power imbalance creates an inherent vulnerability."
