The next morning, I was at the university's administration office finalizing my enrollment. While waiting for the registrar when I heard a whisper behind me: "Haven't seen you around here before."
I turned to see a girl with a grumpy expression. She wore a short black skirt, boots, and a black leather jacket that had words "Rock Star." written all over it. Her hair was messy but in a sexy way, and she had quite an edgy charm to her. "Uh, yeah, I'm a transfer student," I replied, feeling nervous. Her expression softened slightly. "I'm Samantha, but you can call me Sam. And you are?"
I told her my name, and we spoke briefly. She mentioned she was appealing some course trouble, but, as it turned out, we were both pursuing Creative Writing and taking the same classes. This instantly gave me a sense of relief as I was a hundred percent sure I'd just found a friend.
When I finished with the registrar, I realized I was already quite late for my first class, so I left Sam behind and hurried to the lecture hall.
As I was just about to enter the hall, my eyes caught the side profile of a male figure standing in front of the room. I took one step past the doorway, and he turned around, his gaze meeting mine. My steps immediately halted as I saw him.
I gasped. It was the stranger from the hallway. I could not believe my eyes. The hot stranger from the hallway was the professor of my first lecture.
"You're late. You should take a seat," he said, his voice deep and cold, with a hint of indifference and a strong British accent that was captivating. He had glasses on, but I could tell his eyes were scanning me.
As he said those words, I felt shaken to my core. He then turned back to the class and continued what he was doing, leaving me to take a deep, shaky breath. I walked to a seat at the end of the hall, catching a whiff of his scent on my way—a strong, alluring male fragrance that was a pleasant turn-on. I recognized it from the day before a lingering trace from the close brush of his arm against mine. I found a seat, sat down, and took another deep breath, deciding to focus on the class. But as much as I tried, my mind kept wandering back to him. I wondered if he remembered our little encounter from the previous day and if he recognized me or if I was just some insignificant girl that was already forgotten.
As I processed all these thoughts, my eyes would involuntarily drift towards him, tracing the contours of his face and the way he commanded the room. I found myself captivated by his every move and every detail about him. I watched as his lips moved when he spoke. They were firm and unyielding, never curling into a smile, yet there was a subtle softness to them that seemed almost indistinct.
Somewhere in between the lecture, he proceeded to slowly take off his jacket, dropping it on a chair beside him. I watched as his arms filled out his shirt, with the fabric straining to contain the muscles beneath.
Our eyes locked, and his seemed to bore into my soul. A shiver ran down my spine; his intensity was unnerving. Without hesitation, I lowered my gaze, putting an end to the strange spell he had on me.
The class carried on, with him talking about symbolism in 19th-century literature. More time passed, and after a while, he paused, his voice momentarily ceasing as he scanned the room. "Any questions?" he asked, his tone measured and expectant. He put his hands in his pockets, and I felt my composure begin to slip for the hundredth time!
My eyes, completely without shame, drifted from his lips, travelling down the hard planes of his chest and dropping to meet the subtle bulge beneath his belt buckle. The sight hit me with a jolt. My cheeks instantly burned, and a sharp wave of self-reproach washed over me for my lack of decency. I looked away.
But as I raised my eyes, it was too late. I noticed he was already looking at me. His stare was piercing and unnerving. I immediately felt a wave of shame wash over me. I turned away, wondering what was happening to me. I couldn't explain it. I had never felt this kind of uncontrolled attraction for any man, let alone a stranger who turned out to be my professor! I could immediately tell that I was in big trouble. This was bad!
As the lecture continued, Sam slipped in and took the seat beside me. To my surprise, the professor didn't acknowledge her, didn't look up, and simply carried on teaching with his deep, resonant voice. Several other students entered late, yet he ignored them all, too. For some odd reason, I was the only person he said a word to.
When the class finally ended, he gathered his things and left the hall. I, on the other hand, sat there, lost in thought. Eventually, Sam nudged me, smiling. "Guess you've met Professor Jonathan Darcy," she whispered.
I turned to her, curious. "Yeah, what's his deal? He seems cold," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Sam leaned in, her eyes sparkling. "I dunno, Jonathan's always been a bit of a mystery," she confided. "I heard he gave up his rich family's business empire to teach. He's not friendly; he barely talks to anyone and hates school events." She paused, a sly smile spreading. "But shit! his class is always packed. People drop other electives for his. You know, cause he's hot!"
I listened intently. My curiosity was piqued; there was something about him that drew me in, and I wanted to know more.