There was a chorus of screams and I realized I wasn't the only one who was terrified. By now I had backpedaled about ten steps with the makeshift weapon still raised. It was only then that I recognized who was, now, with me in the hallway.

“Tori!?”

“Alex..” She rested her back against the wall and flipped on the switch. When the light illuminated the space between us Tori had a hand on her chest.

“What the hell are you doing home? You scared me to death.” I relaxed my arms and let the fire stoker hang loosely by my side. “I could have hit you with this thing.”

Tori dangled a pair of stilettos. “My conference ended early and I didn't feel like paying for another night in a hotel.” She turned to me, “I just wanted to borrow these for a night out with a guy I met at the gym.. but I'm not willing to get hit with what that is for them.” She motioned to the fire poker.

I managed a laugh now and shook my head. “I'm sorry I just.. they just found a girl’s body on campus. I'm just a little shook.”

Tori snapped her head in my direction now. “What?”

“Yeah..” I took a breath and nodded. “It's just spooking me that's all.”

“I probably should have called to tell you I was coming home early. I just knew you were in class.” Tori immediately referred back to the more intense issue at hand. “A body?”

“James told me they think she was killed last night.”

“Shit..” Tori shook her head and headed toward the kitchen, flipping on the main light to accompany the one above the sink. She immediately popped open the freezer and located a bottle of vodka that had been vacationing there. “Do they know who did it?” Her voice trailed off and I shook my head.

“Not yet. He thinks they'll cancel classes for the week.”

“Well that's one perk.” Tori removed some cranberry juice from the refrigerator next and mixed the two of us a pair of drinks. Despite the fact that I wasn't in the mood to get saucy, I didn't deny the beverage. I figured one might be enough to calm the nerves.

“Thanks.” I accepted the drink and sighed as the first sip of alcohol slid down my throat. “So, who's this guy?”

“His name is Ben.” She grinned. “He's a trainer. Want me to see if he has a friend?” Her eyebrows wiggled and I couldn't help but laugh.

“No.. no that's okay.” I swigged my drink again. My response prompted questions from my roommate.

“What? Why?”

Dr. Archibald popped into my mind. His voice. His smirk. The dimples on his cheeks. Before I could even say anything Tori’s eyes bugged.

“Wait. You're seeing someone.” It was a statement with the ring of a question at the tail end of the sentence.

“No.” I laughed and felt my face grow hot. “No. Not exactly.”

“So.. what exactly is stopping you? Or should I say who? Is it James because I always thought you two-”

“No,” I cut her off. “No, it's definitely not James.”

“So it's someone.. hmm..” Tori smirked behind her glass and had amusement swirling in her pupils. “Do I know him?”

“I’m really not seeing anyone.”

“What is it like.. a casual thing? Is that where you've been going during these “night classes” at Woodbridge?” She used her fingers to make the quotations and I let out a sigh.

I wish, I thought to myself.

“There's no one,” I insisted.

“So, why won't you double date with me then?”

What answer could I give? I'm enamored by a man who I will never, ever be with. He's also my professor.. who is at least fifteen years older than me.

“Maybe I will.” I said it mostly to satisfy her and to prevent any more questions. I didn't feel like getting into it.

We both stood there in the kitchen for a moment in silence before Tori excused herself to finish getting ready for her last minute date with “Ben the Trainer”. Meanwhile here I was in a mental relationship with Dr. Archibald denying dates with guys my own age that might actually lead somewhere.

Maybe I'm secretly scared of commitment, I thought, and that's why I'm interested in an untouchable man.

The brief talk with Tori, and her company, alone, got my mind out of the warped dark fantasyland it had been in minutes before. I felt grounded again. My nerves had steadied and by the time she left for her night on the town I felt like my batteries had been recharged. I was back to neutral.

…

James had been right. Classes were put on hold with the ongoing investigation and for students who required grief counseling. While there were no formal assignments, both of my professors sent home optional reading material and questions to think about during the spontaneous break during our second week of classes.

Optional. That gave me the right to focus on Dr. Archibald's topic.

As I sat on the computer in my bedroom that Tuesday night during the time slot my psychology class typically took place, I imagined what my professor might be doing right then. Like a series of movie previews my mind created images of everything from writing lesson plans, to going on a date to sitting at home in a pair of sweatpants.

A date.. I suddenly wondered, oddly for the first time, if Dr. Archibald was married. How hadn't the thought crossed my mind sooner? For five or six seconds I let the big, green monster chase me into a childish pool of jealousy before I forced myself to snap out of it.

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Focus on the reading. The fact that I was actively playing a game of tug-of-war with myself made me worry - just a bit; but soon I was engaged in the topic of: Antisocial Personality Disorder.

I knew the basics about the topic but nothing in depth. My first correlation was to that of members of the mafia. Lack of empathy. Lying. Criminal behavior. Violent. All were traits I knew were associated with the disorder . As I continued to read, however, I knew the population possessing such qualities was far more broad.

There were chameleons in the world of all shapes in sizes. The older I got the more I realized that people were superior in their abilities to keep things hidden about themselves that they didn't want being put on display. Occasionally, hints of the truth would emerge, and if you were in someone's company for long enough I was sure their true colors would be impossible to mask forever.

Still, the scary part remained in that there was a planet full of people that were outsiders; that didn't infiltrate the inner circle or any of its neighboring layers. To think I had probably been in close quarters with a psychopath at some point in my life made me visibly shudder. It was easy for my mind to wander down the rabbit hole and snowball on until I was biting my fingernails down to the nub.

I wondered, for a moment, if the person responsible for the woman's death suffered from Antisocial Personality Disorder. It was a valid question, or so I thought.

Maybe I'll bring it up in class, I thought to myself, and then immediately decided against it. What if someone in class knew the girl and was offended by my question? And then another thought, I could always approach Dr. Archibald after class..

That was another rabbit hole I didn't mind indulging in - and one I should have been ignoring, I admit. It had just been so long since someone possessed the ability to make my stomach tingle just by entering a room. The feeling was intoxicating and I didn't even attempt to fight off the impulse to indulge in it like some type of addict. I don't care what anyone says, the greatest high in the world was the natural release of dopamine in the brain.

I tapped a pen against the desk where I sat and then rose to my feet. It was boredom. It was curiosity. It was lust. It was the craving for just a little bit of adventures. Before I had time to try talking myself out of anything I pulled on a snug, blue beanie hat, had my keys in my hand and headed out to the car.

I was beginning to feel a bit desperate when I began the trek across town to Woodbridge’s campus. What I would do when I got there, I had no idea. A part of me just wanted to know if Dr. Archibald was on campus. Another part of me was intrigued a bit by the murder. No one had been found guilty, thus far, and as sheltered as I sounded I felt like it could be a bit audacious to poke around.

Beats being in the house all night.

The ride took about two-and-a-half songs to cross the threshold onto school grounds. I barely listened to what played on Pandora for those nine minutes or so. I had created a mountain in my mind for the trip to Woodbridge and I was certain I would end up with nothing but a molehill.

How will I even know if Dr. Archildbald is here? That was a question I didn't think of until I cruised into the parking lot by the building where my two classes typically took place. Students were not permitted in the academic buildings until Monday and there was a strict curfew being enforced with students living in the dormitories.

A handful of cars were in the lot and a few yellow squares on the adjacent outer wall of the building showed signs of life from inside. I circled slowly, rubbernecking to try to see down the green as I got near the end of the lot - as if any of the excitement from late last week was still occurring in the area.

When I doubled back around I felt the tingles. Only they didn't settle in my stomach. They traveled the length of my legs and penetrated my heels before making a leap straight for my throat.

Dr. Archibald walked across the nearly vacant lot. I watched as tension gnawed and pulled at my insides while, all the same, praying he didn't see me there down the lot.

I could breathe. Barely. I was much too old to be having feelings like this. Intense, yet baseless, feelings for a man I hardly knew. It truly wasn't far off from that first big middle school crush; an adolescent sexual awakening. No, I really shouldn't have been feeling like this at twenty-eight years old over a random man - or any man for that matter. On that notion alone I should have been running in the other direction.. but I didn't. Not even close.

You're no better than a drug addict, I tried to shame myself. It's the dopamine, it's not real feelings. It can't be!

I wasn't sure if it was the devil or angel on my shoulder that was ‘speaking’ to me. Maybe it was a combination of both. Regardless, I watched.. waited. Maybe I was the predator and he was the prey.

There was no music playing now, though my fingers fiddled with the knobs to assure I had all my senses loaned to the operation at hand. That operation was witnessing what vehicle belonged to Dr. Archibald.

I could hardly say I was shocked when he swiftly entered the black Mercedes. I suddenly felt like the creep. I was lurking around watching; waiting. My professor was completely unsuspecting and oblivious. And here I had erratically and incorrectly cast him in, what I had just discovered, was my role.

Did he have a thing for me? No, I had a thing for him. Was he following me around? No, I was the one chasing him. It was me. Dr. Archibald was nothing but a courteous, witty professional. I was desperate, enticed and bored.. with an active, and hopeful, imagination.

The purr of the Mercedes’s engine caused my moment of self-loathing and recognition to pause, like some intermission to my dark epiphany. Despite the conscious realization that what I was doing was wrong, I trailed him out of the lot like some game of cat and mouse.

The tables had turned, though I reminded myself again that he most likely wasn't following me last Thursday night. It was, indeed, a coincidence. He was leaving, I was leaving. Tonight I had sought him out. I acknowledged that I had somehow felt cheated that I didn't get to see him that night in our ‘regularly scheduled program’.

It was selfish, I knew that. Someone had died and somehow I felt cheated. Despite it all, I followed him for close to fifteen minutes before I was forced to back off when the Mercedes parallel-parked into an empty space outside a lounge called ‘The Library’ that I had passed by on occasion, though never went into.

Okay, I was done. I had crossed a line. Following Dr. Archibald was a new low. I breathed as the cars in front of me came to a halt at a red light at the end of the quaint city street.

My eyes took in the white lights and wreaths that were still strung about, the aftermath of the Christmas season that refused to be put to bed. It added some extra life to the cold, dark month of January.

A knock on the window made me physically jump. Being on edge suddenly felt like my body's default setting. I looked over and wanted to melt in my chair; or die right where I sat. I didn't know if my face was as white as ghost or red like a lobster who had been guzzling hot sauce. I wanted to fade away; disappear.

A pane of glass separated me from Dr. Archibald, who smirked at me in the way he had on the few occasions we had spoken. I didn't know whether to floor it when the light changed and drop my Abnormal Psychology class so I never had to see him again or..

I rolled down my window and his eyes forced mine to meet his. “I hope you're a better student than you are a stalker.” Before I could attempt any justification for my actions he motioned with his arm. “Park up there by the church in the open space.”

When he backed away I turned to see that the light had turned green. A horn from behind was like a defibrillator to my Mazda’s engine. I hit the gas just a little too hard and glanced in the passenger side view mirror. Dr. Archibald stood there with his hands in the pockets of a long, black jacket and as I approached the parking space by the church I couldn't help but obey his benign demand.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” The word peppered out of my mouth like a culpable chorus that translated to, ‘I just got caught’.

I still had time to make an escape. There was no force willing me to stay there and face Dr. Archbald. I could always put the car in reverse and disappear into the night.

That's not an option. I knew that. I had to face the embarrassing consequences of my actions.

When I exited the vehicle I had that genuine feeling of wanting to disappear again. What was I going to say? What was he going to say?