Page 57 of Hannah.

All I can think about, unfortunately, is Johan.

A few hours have passed, and I’ve just finished taking my evening shower and putting on a pair of pajamas—silk shorts and a camisole—when there is a knock at the door. I left my phone on my desk, and before answering the door I check it to see if there are any hints about who might be out in the hallway. My suspicions are confirmed when I see a message from Johan reading,I’m stopping by to get those pieces.

Damn. I guess it isn't enough to have to deal with Conrad; now I have to see the man responsible for all my desires and all my guilt. With my throat tight, I pull the door open.

“Why did you have to come over? I could’ve given them to you.”

The look on Johan's face is a million miles away from being fake. His eyes widen briefly at how scantily I’m dressed, unintentionally, and then they go heated. “Did you dress like this for me?”

I cross my arms for modesty, knowing that it's silly since he’s basically seen all of my upper half, but I’m unable to help the instinct. “It’s just pajamas.”

“I like them.” He leans on the doorframe, looking down at me. “Bring them this weekend.”

Looking past him and out into the hallway to make sure no one hears the scandalous things he’s saying, I pull him into my dorm by the wrist, which makes him laugh. “You don't have to worry,” he points out. “You’re the only student who knows me. Everyone else is from other departments.”

“And? You said the uni has a strict policy,” I remind him, my tone serious and rushed.

His eyes lock on mine. “That doesn’t mean I can’t come and take what has been stolen from said-uni.”

Despite his harsh reminder, I need to keep my thoughts in order, but having him here in my room makes me feel all over the place. He's dressed in a gray jumper with the Cambridge logo on the front and a pair of well-worn jeans, so cozy and casual it looks like he belongs here with me. I want to grab handfuls of his jumper and pull him backward in the all-too-close bed or slide my hands under it to feel the warmth of his skin and the hard lines of his muscles. Johan has awakened some monster inside me that I’m having a hard time putting back to bed.

I realize we've just been standing here for an extended time, so I rush over to my nightstand, where my treasures reside, and give him what he came for. “Fine, let me get you those pieces.”

I almost jump out of my skin when I feel Johan behind me, his huge hands on my shoulders. “Hannah, are you alright? You’re so tense.”

Letting out a slow breath, I stand up straight, hands still on the handle of the drawer. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just trying to get you what you came for.”

“That's not the only thing I came for.” I feel his lips brush against the shell of my ear. “Maybe I just wanted to see you, too.”

Forcing myself to ignore him and the powerful urge to lean back into his touch, I open the drawer and pull out the pieces I had taken from both shows. I underestimated how strange it’d be to hold them in the presence of someone else, let alone someone who knows where the treasures came from. A part of me screams in denial as I start to hand them over, and the urge to pull them away and hold them close to my heart is strong. It says a lot about how much trust I have in Johan that I’m able to hand them over with only slightly shaking hands.

Johan carefully takes them from me, wrapping them in a soft cloth he had in his pocket. He looks equal parts relieved and sad. I snap the drawer shut, turning to face him.

“Well, you saw me.” I can't meet his eyes, so I study the Cambridge logo on his shirt. “Thanks for stopping by.”

He sets the pieces down on my nightstand with infinite gentleness, and his hand comes under my chin, forcing me to look up. “What's wrong? You don’t look okay.”

If Conrad noticed my sudden shift in mood, there is no way Johan wouldn’t. He's far too perceptive. “Nothing is wrong.” I evade the question, trying to step back. Johan doesn't let me, keeping a hand on my hip and a finger under my chin.

“That's not true,” he insists, stepping closer to me. I have nowhere to go but backward until the backs of my knees hit the mattress, and I sit down on the edge of the bed. To my horror, Johan follows me, kneeling down on the floor and spreading my thighs so he can get even closer. He looks up at me, one hand resting on my knee. “Tell me, Hannah. Is Conrad giving you trouble?”

My eyes widen. This is not a conversational path I want to go down. “No, of course not. He was perfectly nice.”

Jaw clenching, Johan looks like he wants to argue, but then he notices the necklace Conrad had bought me. I had almost forgotten about it and put a self-conscious hand up to my throat. Johan touches it, thumb stroking the gold for a moment. “Conrad is nice,” he agrees grudgingly. “But you’re not interested in him. And this necklace doesn't suit you. I could give you better.”

“Johan—” I start, unsure of how I’m going to finish that sentence. Does he mean jewelry? Why does it feel like he is offering more than a piece of jewelry? Then, I have a realization. “You knew he bought me this stuff. I heard you arguing aboutit when I was hiding at your apartment. I guess I let it slip my mind.”

Johan frowns, fingers moving up to stroke the column of my throat, making me shiver. “He shouldn't buy you things, especially since you aren't interested in him. Conrad just doesn't know how to respect boundaries.”

Feeling overwhelmed, I move his hand away, letting it drop to the bed. “I accepted the date. I didn't have to. Don’t be jealous, Professor.”

Frustration flashes in his eyes, and Johan stands up. “Jealous? Do I have a reason to be jealous? Conrad is nice, but he isn't good enough for you.” Johan runs a frustrated hand through his hair, pacing the small area between my nightstand and the bed. “You have no idea what I’d do for you, what Iwilldo to you when we're on our own this weekend.”

The air in the dorm feels hot and charged, and the two of us look at each other, tension thick. We're treading on dangerous territory—anything could happen. One more push from him, one more touch, and I think I’m going to fold. I have to stop this now if I want to say my piece.

“About that, I, eh… I can’t do this to Astrid.”

Johan crosses his arms, still looking incredibly unhappy. “Astrid isn't relevant, don't bring her up.”

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