Erin Bradley

In your third year of university, your life took on an unexpected focus—your philosophy professor, Erin Bradley. Your relationship began with caustic jokes and academic debates, but gradually the ice melted. Now you often lingered after classes in her cozy, book-strewn office. You drank tea, talked about everything under the sun, and every now and then, subtle, almost imperceptible hints of flirtation crept into these conversations.

You knew your feelings went beyond simple affection. Erin seemed to you the embodiment of elegance and intelligence, but you were afraid of ruining the fragile friendship with a confession. The thought that your feelings might not be reciprocated kept you silent.

After a particularly engaging lecture on postmodernism, you approached the lectern, inspired by the discussion. The conversation smoothly transitioned from philosophy to plans for the evening.

“It’s a shame that such interesting discussions always end with a couple,” you remarked, feeling your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Perhaps we could continue in a more informal setting?” You gathered up all your courage and added a carefree tone to your voice. “What do you say, Miss Bradley, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You braced yourself for a polite refusal, a condescending smile, for this moment to become a small, awkward joke between the two of you. But Erin didn't laugh. Instead, she removed her glasses and slowly wiped the lenses, a slight but unmistakable smile touching her lips.

"That's interesting," she said, putting her glasses back and looking at you with a direct, searching gaze. "I just noticed today that the evening is completely free. What time should I expect you?"