It’s been two days since my midnight conversation with Aiden, and nothing has changed. I teach my classes. We have practice sessions. We watch educational movies, then discuss them and re-enact certain scenes. Every time Aiden is in the classroom, I’m acutely aware of his presence. I try not to look his way, but when I allow myself a glance, he’s either looking at his book or at the fake windows. Each time, I feel a sting of disappointment.

I put on a scene from one of Barry Becker’s movies, and try to catch Aiden’s reaction. Is he even aware how much he looks like Barry? Maybe he did this on purpose, tailored his looks to what I like? But how could he have known that I have a crash on Barry?

He's sitting in row three, watching the movie with an absent expression. I bet he’s not focusing. When we’re done, maybe I should ask him about what we’ve watched, force him to admit that he hasn’t been paying attention. I’m pretty sure I won’t do that, though. It feels like even a simple interaction between us could make others suspect there’s something going on.

Is anything going on? I mean, he didn’t talk to me once after his midnight visit. The things he said—that he could arrange for me to go outside—made me feel so elated. For the first time in years, there was something for me to expect, something to look forward to. But he must have realized it’s not something he could do. Too risky, trusting me to ‘behave’ outside, and not to make a run for it.

Still, he could at least tell me. As things stand, I feel like I’ve been dumped. He proposed to be my boyfriend, and then changed his mind, and didn’t even bother notifying me?

When the last class is over, I get up and leave for my room. I hear the students walk past my door, their footsteps and voices growing quiet, the door at the end of the corridor clanging shut. I’m alone again, until the next morning. Not that it matters—even when surrounded by students, I’m still alone. I’ve been offered a chance to break the loneliness, but now it’s gone, too.

My stomach grumbles. I’ve skipped lunch today, not wanting to be in the cafeteria where Aiden could have approached me—or maybe wanting to remain in the empty classroom, where he could have approached me more easily. I’m so conflicted about him. Anyway, he hasn’t tried to talk to me today—again—and now I should at least grab something to eat from the vending machine before lights out.

The corridor leading to the cafeteria always creeps me out in the evenings. Empty, with its mismatched windows—one showing a distant mountain range, another a lake, the third one a city street. The place feels warped and haunted, straight lines no longer straight. It gives me vertigo. I pass it quickly and enter the cafeteria, which feels somewhat better, the tables and the chairs preserving the right geometry of the place.

I’m not alone. Someone is sitting by one of the tables. I almost get a heart attack before I recognize Aiden. He removes his feet from the table and straightens up in his chair.

“Took you some time,” he says.

“Why did you think I’d come?”

He shrugs. “You didn’t eat lunch. I figured you’d show up for the vending machine.”

“Whatever.” I head to the machine and stand in front of it, pretending to examine its meager assortment while trying to gather my thoughts. So, he did seek me out. Something is happening. It’s not over.

Behind my back, he pushes back his chair, and I hear his unhurried steps, getting closer.

“You’ve been avoiding me?” he says, stopping behind me.

“Not at all. Just maintaining a professional teacher-student relationship.”

“Is that what we are?” He steps closer and his arms slide around my waist, hugging me from behind. “Just a teacher and a student?”

I freeze, surprised by the back-hug. His breathing tickles my neck. He blows at it gently, getting my hair out of the way, and plants a soft kiss on my skin. Being hugged like this sends sparks throughout my body, and I shudder, wanting to get away—and not wanting to.

I clear my throat. “What’re you doing, exactly?”

“Hugging you,” he mutters against my ear. “Like in that movie today.”

So, he’s been paying attention. “In the movie, they were a couple.”

“Aren’t we?”

“I told you what you needed to do for that. I never heard from you since.”

“Never is a strong word for two days.”

“It felt longer,” I admit. “You promised me a real first date.”

He chuckles. “How many first dates are we going to have? We had one here in the cafeteria. We had another one in your room.”

“As many as required until you get it right.” He’s still hugging me, and I should tell him to stop, but I find it hard to do that. I like being held. It feels good.

“Fine, teacher,” he says, and steps back. I turn around and find him smiling. “It’s a good thing you haven’t eaten today, because I’m taking you out.”

“Out?” I say, and it feels like the word hangs in the air. “Like, out out?”

“Yes,” he says. “Are you up for that?”

My throat is suddenly dry. I need to swallow before I can answer.

“You bet.” Then, a suspicion strikes me. “Is this a joke? Some kind of prank, to make me think we’re going outside, but we’re actually not?”

He frowns. “I’ll keep my promise. You’ll see the sky tonight, like you wanted. But remember, you promised to behave. You can’t talk to anyone.”

“Of course,” I say. “Of course, I won’t.”

“Good.” He takes my hand and pulls me after him.

We exit the cafeteria. He’s walking steadily, and I do my best to keep up, still not sure what to make of this. He’s leading me along the corridor to the door through which the students arrive in the mornings and leave in the evenings. I’ve tried so many times to get it to open, with no success. It only opens for them. They don’t even need to touch it, it just does.

“Wait,” I say. “Are we really going? Like, now?”

“Did you have other plans?” Stopping in front of the door, he turns back to me. “You’ll need to wear these.” He hands me what looks like black goggles. Obediently, I put them on, and then, suddenly, I’m in complete darkness.

“I can’t see anything,” I say, and try to take them off, but he catches my hands.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.” He places his hand around my shoulders. It’s so disconcerting, suddenly not being able to see, that having him as a tangible anchor is a relief.

“I can’t walk like this,” I say into the darkness. “I’ll fall.”

“I can’t let you see where we’re going. But I’ll lead you. You won’t get hurt. My word.”

I hope that his word is worth more than my promise to behave. Either way, I’m not backing off now.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

The sound of the opening door takes my breath away. The next moment, following the pull of Aiden’s hand, I step across the threshold, feeling like an astronaut floating out into the open space.