Chapter 9: Nine

Michael’s point of view.

I'm not the type to arrive early to a lecture late in fact, I am always at least twenty minutes late, but for Professor Betty, I am always on time.

I would do anything, absolutely anything to see those piercing grey eyes that glitter whenever she was angry or those long legs whenever she strode to the board. It's safe to say that she has become my obsession.

I glance at my wristwatch, 7: 50 am, Professor Betty should be here anytime from now, her class doesn't start until 8 am and normally I would arrive at 8 on the dot just in time to secure my usual seat which was two seats from the front row but today? Today I couldn't wait. Maybe I’d been counting down all weekend to see her gorgeous face.

The class seemed late today, it was just me and five others in here. I wondered if the others found her intriguing like I did. I've always been punctual, and I never miss any of her classes. But ever since that whole saga with my father, I didn't want to come in while she was in the class. It was better that she met me seated, that would seem respectful, so here I was waiting for her patiently like some love-sick idiot who can't accept the reality that we would never be an item but that kiss?

My gaze landed on the notebook, the one that I had spent the entire Sunday night writing on, this was a way to be on good grounds with her. Maybe fix things without her feeling insulted or manipulated by my father, still, I can't get over the image of her on Face Gram.

That damn ring, she kept flashing it at the camera like she knew I would be looking.

But that was ten years ago, could she have been married before? And how come I didn't know?

Even though she hadn't aged a bit, she still looked happier, her hair was curly and wavy, now she kept straight chestnut hair, and that smile, damn, it was making me go nuts. Seeing her smile widely with another man was crazy work, I've always imagined it would be cracking those walls she built so high around herself, her shell, finally making her loosen up.

But I guess I was too late for me now.

Yet I would never give up, I won’t stop until she is mine, I won’t rest till I have her on my bed. And till my fantasy came to pass.

And yet my chest still aches that I can’t figure her out, deep down I know we both shared a connection, a strong one even though she tries so hard to ignore me, or was I just being delusional?

I guess everything is all in my head and maybe she was sending mixed signals but they were probably nothing, I was just reading meanings to things.

I can still picture her wearing that diamond ring. But it wasn’t that that hurt me, it was the fact that she once belonged to someone other than me. It was the fact that she could be snatched away from my grip.

And everything we ever shared was just a fragment of my imagination.

Suddenly the door creaked open and I could feel my heart thumping against my chest.

Professor Betty walks in, three minutes late, but that could be excused, she still has this force of elegance and class like always, except today she is something else entirely, she is hotter than ever, I could almost feel the heat emanating from her, warming me up from inside. Even the corporate professor outfit couldn’t hide the sexiness. Her pencil skirt reveals her hips in a way that made my throat dry and her skin bloused. It was buttoned up, unlike before, I guess she was sanctioned, but I could see a little reveal of cleavage or was it just my imagination running wild?

Her glassy heels thud against the floor as she moved to the front of the class, her aura powerful like she owned the room, her chest but her hair is packed up in a ponytail, and the oversized glasses stood out on her heart-shaped face.

God, she was killing me and she knew it.

She effortlessly makes me go crazy over her.

She doesn’t notice me as she sets her leather bag on the desk. I grip my pen tighter trying to stop the nervousness from creeping in, yes, she was the first professor who ever made me feel so nervous. Especially after the little encounter we shared.

The softness of her lips.

I can still feel them like it just happened an hour ago.

And the which in her eyes when she realized it was the student she loathed, and that this kiss wasn’t supposed to happen, the disappointment was palpable, I knew she was embarrassed, hell none of it was supposed to happen, I hadn't expected to see her that night but I did and for some reason it felt so good, but now it made things more awkward, and now I can’t go back to being “Micheal, her student.”

Which is why I vowed to stay quiet today, no flirty comments, or even smart remarks, I won’t try to humiliate her by giving myself cheap attention, I was going to be mature and respectful, take notes, and keep my damn mouth shut, making this less hard for both of us.

But then her gaze lands on me.

And for a second, just for a second.

A second feels like forever to me, because it makes me feel important, and even if I can’t tell what that gaze meant, at least she still found me worthy enough to stare at me. She looked away immediately, immersed in the textbook she was holding. And I sat up, prepared to pay attention to whatever she had to say.

But the feeling of lust still can’t fade away.

Anything she does is damn sexy, even when she clears her throat innocently, it turns me on, I must be sick in the head or just obsessed with her, either way isn’t good.

“Good morning, class, I hope everyone had a good weekend,”

Of course I did, you made it interesting by kissing me so hard on the lips.

“ Yes, we did, " the class said in unison.

She smiled, not as widely as she did in the picture, “ as you all know, we had a presentation last week and everyone did their best but unfortunately it wasn’t good enough.”

There’s a collective groan from the students, but I just watch her because that’s the only thing that matters, not the fucking test, not the class, just her.

“Well, unfortunately,” she scans the class, “we would be retaking it next week, so prepare hard so you can perform well.”

The groans increase, I should be worried too but I’m not. That is not my priority.

“And.. we will be starting a new topic today, that’s where the test questions will be coming from, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre.”

The way she says it with so much fire and passion catches my attention.

She lifts a copy of the book and heads to the whiteboard. I can see her long sexy legs now, it’s like they hypnotized me so that I couldn’t focus on any other thing besides her ‘hot legs’.

“Jane Eyre is an excellent novel, it deals with independence, love, societal expectations, and morality,” she scribbled ‘morality’ on the board the same way she emphasized them. “ I expect everyone to get a copy from the library and read it thoroughly like I said we would do presentations and another test by next week, please be prepared and be respectful.”

I had a feeling that the message was meant for me, I jot down her words but my mind isn’t on the novel, it’s on two things, her lips and the ring in that picture. I still can’t get over the kiss we shared, the fact that she initiated it even made me more confident that we could be something more, even if it meant to be a mistake.

Finally, she turns her back on us trying to scribble short notes on it but I can’t concentrate.

I know she remembered that night.

The classroom was quiet but my mind was restless, I could see her mouth moving, and I heard her explaining the themes and everything important about the novel but I couldn’t seem to pay attention, I was trapped in my head.

I’m replaying every moment of that night. The way she crashed her lips on mine, the way she wrapped her hands around my neck, and the way her lips parted welcoming my tongue in.

Seeing her acting like it didn’t matter was tormenting my soul. Before I knew it the class was over.

And everyone began to disperse.

But I remained seated, waiting, pretending I was still writing from the board.

With my corner eye, I could see she was at her desk, arranging books and deliberately avoiding my presence.

I can’t leave like this, I need some closure.

I headed over where she stood my head racing fast like they had run a thousand miles.

“Good morning, Professor Betty!” I greeted.

She looks up at me, “Yes, how may I help you ?” She responds so coldly.

I don’t respond immediately, instead, I slide the book I was holding across her desk, she glances at it then at me in a suspicious manner.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a book,” I say, trying to be funny but she wasn’t having it.

I could see a slight change in her expression, like she was angry. “Hope it isn’t one of your budget nonsense again?”

I almost laughed. “No ma'am. It’s not, it’s a new project. Since you didn’t like the last one.”

This makes her smile, not in happiness but in anger.

“I will check it out when I’m less busy. “ she responds, barely looking at me.

“Okay, have a nice day, Professor,” I reply, trying to sound casual. I expected more from her but I guess she wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet.

“It was a mistake by the way,” I heard her say.