Page 9 of Johan.

“Where are you going, son?” Dad asks upon seeing me.

“I have an early class to teach tomorrow,” I announce, hoping the excuse sounds plausible enough not to warrant further questioning. My dad, already halfway to the lounge with a brandy in hand, turns back toward me with a hopeful look.

“Oh, nonsense. Stay a little longer for a drink with us.” The warmth in his voice makes it harder to refuse.

I manage a polite but firm smile, feeling the weight of the evening pushing me towards the door. “I really should be getting back; I have a long day ahead,” I insist, signaling my resolve to leave.

As I gather my coat, Astrid sidles up to me, her eyes bright with a different kind of invitation. “Could you give me a ride?” she asks, her voice tinged with a hopeful note. With a resigned nod, I agree, knowing it’s a small concession I can manage.Together, we head to my car, the quiet of the night settling around us as we leave the lively ambiance of the restaurant behind

We reach my car, parked under the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. The light flickers momentarily as I unlock the doors, casting brief shadows across the pavement. Astrid slips into the passenger seat, her movements graceful and deliberate. As I start the engine, the quiet hum of the car feels like a sanctuary after the night’s earlier intensity.

Fortunately, the drive to Astrid’s apartment is short, and we should get there in no time. The city lights blur past us in a haze of amber and neon. Amid the silent ride, Astrid turns towards me, her silhouette framed by the passing streetlights. She attempts to lighten the atmosphere, her voice playful and flirtatious. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I wasn’t looking forward to sitting next to my dad and his cigar.”

“You’re welcome,” I say simply.

A comfortable silence settles in, but Astrid speaks again. “It’s nice to have some quiet time, just the two of us.”

Despite her comment, I keep my eyes on the road, responding with non-committal hums and nods. Inside, I'm tense, the need for solitude and distance from Astrid growing with every mile. Despite her efforts to engage, I remain aloof, my responses brief and my focus fixed firmly on the road ahead.

We arrive at her building, its facade bathed in the soft, welcoming glow of the entrance lights. I pull up to the curb, and as the car comes to a gentle stop, Astrid leans in closer. Her hand brushes against mine on the gear shift, her touch deliberate. “Why don’t you come up? You seem tense. Maybe I can relax you a bit,” she suggests, her voice low and coaxing, each word wrapped in a velvety lure.

“I'm really tired, Astrid. I need to get some sleep,” I reply, my tone gentle yet resolute as I carefully extract my hand from hers.There’s a firmness in my voice, an invisible barrier I'm trying to maintain.

Her expression shifts almost imperceptibly, the corners of her mouth drooping as her face tightens with a flicker of disappointment. She probes further, leaning back slightly, but her eyes narrow, a hint of suspicion sharpening her tone. “You broke up with Hannah, right? If I find out you?—”

“Yes, Astrid, I did,” I cut in quickly, my voice firm to stave off any further interrogation. “I just want to sleep, okay?”

“Alright.” She pauses, her posture relaxing as she assesses my response, then shifts tactics. “We should go somewhere this weekend, then, just the two of us.” Her voice’s softer now, trying a different angle.

I sigh inwardly, feeling trapped, my gaze fixed on the darkened dashboard as I search for an excuse. “We'll see, I have a lot of work lately.”

“But you can make time for your fiancée, can’t you?” she presses, clearly not ready to let the issue drop. As she reaches for the door handle, she adds cheerfully, “Don’t worry, I’ll plan something fun. It’ll be a surprise.”

A long sigh of frustration escapes me. “Astrid, I—” I start, my tone edged with weariness.

Before I can finish, she raises her hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “You took Hannah out to that weekend in Wales, so the least you can do is to go with me somewhere.” Her voice rises slightly, tinged with hurt and a demanding edge.

Caught off guard, I nod reluctantly. “We'll talk later, Astrid. Good night.” My response is terse, a verbal surrender for the moment.

With a mixture of determination and something akin to victory, Astrid steps out of the car, her silhouette framed briefly by the interior light before she closes the door. The soft thud resonates like a gavel, sealing the conversation. Asshe disappears into the building, I sit in the silence of my car. The night suddenly feels heavier, and the prospect of a coerced weekend looms large as I start the engine and pull away. I need an excuse, a way out. The drive back home is quiet, a time for me to gather my thoughts and prepare for the call I need to make to Hannah—a call that now feels more necessary than ever.

As I finally pull into my street, the night's weight seems to recede slightly with the familiar sight of home. I park the car and sit for a moment, taking in the quiet. Shaking off the evening's heaviness, I grab my phone and head inside, my steps quickening in anticipation of shedding both my suit and the evening's tensions.

Stepping into the foyer, the familiar surroundings do little to ease the tension that has built up over the evening. I drop my keys on the table with a clatter and head straight to the bedroom, stripping off the layers of my formal attire as if shedding the night's events could be as simple. Left in my boxers, I feel a slight relief, a physical unburdening that preludes the emotional one I hope to achieve soon. As I settle onto my bed, I dial Hannah’s number, eager for her voice to cut through the lingering disquiet. The line rings briefly before her bright and teasing voice fills it. “Late, Professor? That doesn't seem like you.”

Her playful tone brings a reluctant smile to my face. “It's been one of those nights,” I admit, allowing a sigh to escape. I lean back against the headboard, sinking into the cushions.

“Sounds like you could use some distraction,” she suggests, her voice lowering in a hint of flirtation.

Taking the cue, I respond in kind, shifting the conversation to a lighter, more intimate territory. “True, I could ask you about your evening, but I’m more interested in knowing what you're wearing right now.”

A soft laugh comes through the line. “Just my pajamas. But they’re not nearly as interesting as where this conversation could go. And where, may I ask, are your hands right now, Professor?”

I chuckle, the sound more relaxed than I've felt all evening, the tension easing from my body. “Currently, they’re harmlessly on the phone. But your question makes me wish they were elsewhere. How about yours?”

Her voice dips into a playful whisper, a tone that immediately draws me in. “Well, they were just turning the page of my book, but now one might just wander…”

Curiosity piqued, I lean back against the pillows, letting her words sink in. “And where exactly is that wandering hand heading?” My voice lowers, matching her playful secrecy, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us despite the physical distance.

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