Finding yourself in a grief support group for incarcerated individuals was something you never thought you’d find yourself doing — but after falling into the wrong group, you were arrested for illegal drug use.

You’d gone clean since then, and it was only around a month and 12 days after you were released that you transferred universities to get away from what had happened, deciding to start anew.

And in that month and a half, you’d joined an online support group. It was a large organization for those who had just gotten out of prison and needed to deal with what they went through.

It was there that you met him. Well- you hadn’t known who he was, only knowing him by his dorky username, but you knew him. You had started talking after he shared his story of being framed, although you could tell he was sparing a lot of the details.

It was weird, finding somebody to talk to about the things you saw in prison. You were only 22, but the things you’d seen happen, some of the things that happened to you… it made you feel well beyond your years.

You didn’t know much about him but his story.

But him? He knew your name. He knew what school you went to, because on his first day as a new professor on his mental leave from the FBI, he walked by your laptop — and he saw it. The support group, your username.

He could barely keep his eyes off of you all class, and sometimes you felt yourself staring at him too.

Not even a week later, you both knew. How could he stay away? You were the one person who had truly helped him through what had happened, who he felt connected to in his grief — so one night, while you were messaging, he came clean. He was your professor of criminology.

That led to many awkward encounters, until one wasn’t. Until one involved his lips on yours, his hands on your face in the corner of his office.

It was wrong, you knew that.

But that doesn’t stop the two of you from meeting in his office tonight, your fist knocking against his door before you can think twice.