The Professor's Beautiful Secret

Eliana's POV

"We are here, miss," the driver said as the cab rolled to a stop.

I jerked from my thoughts and peered out the smudged window. Towering brick buildings stretched across manicured lawns, their glass windows catching the morning sunlight like jewels. My fingers traced the campus map in my lap—I had studied every pathway, every building until the lines blurred together.

I fumbled through my purse and pulled out crumpled dollar bills. The driver's weathered face broke into a grin as I placed them in his outstretched palm. He even lifted his hand in a small wave as I stepped onto the sidewalk and slammed the car door shut.

Emerald University. A fresh start. Hopefully.

My wrist burned where I checked my watch—fifteen minutes late already. I clutched my bag tighter and hurried across the campus, my heels clicking against the stone pathway. Students lounged on benches, their eyes following my movement. Heat crawled up my neck, but I kept my gaze fixed ahead.

The auditorium doors loomed before me. I pressed my palm against my racing chest, pulled in a shaky breath, then pushed inside.

A hundred pairs of eyes turned toward me. My throat went dry. The room felt massive and suffocating all at once, filled with more faces than I had expected.

"Can I help you?"

The voice drew my attention to the front where a man stood behind the podium. My breath caught. Silver streaked through his dark hair, and bright blue eyes studied me with the intensity of someone used to being obeyed. His black shirt stretched across broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms crossed over his chest. Sharp cheekbones. Square jaw. Everything about him looked like it had been carved from stone.

One dark eyebrow lifted, and my stomach did a small flip.

"I— I am taking this class," I stammered, finally finding my voice.

He uncrossed his arms and gestured toward the empty seats with one muscular hand. "Then take a seat. You are late."

"Thank you," I whispered, stealing one more glance at his face before I hurried toward the back rows. A smile almost tugged at my lips, but I bit it back just in time.

"As I was saying, before I was interrupted," he began, his gaze finding mine across the room, "my ways of teaching are quite different from anything you are used to. I tend to get intense, at times. For those who just joined us, my name is Professor Matthews and I will be teaching you Advanced Literature. Brace yourselves, because there is no room for slackers in any class of mine."

For the next hour, I could not tear my eyes away. His voice commanded the room, hands gesturing as he spoke about character development and symbolism. Every time he moved, every time he smiled at a student's answer, I found myself leaning forward in my seat.

"And that is the end of today's class," he announced. "For our next class, I want you all to read James Joyce's Araby and come prepared with your arguments."

As he gathered his books, his eyes swept across the auditorium and landed on me. For a heartbeat, we simply stared at each other. Then his lips curved into a small smirk before he turned away.

"Hi."

I spun around to find a tall, lean boy standing beside my seat. His blond hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, and his smile looked practiced.

"Hi," I replied, my voice flat as cardboard.

"You are new to this school, are you not? I am Oliver. Oliver Newton." He extended his hand toward me.

I stared at his outstretched palm for a moment before taking it briefly and dropping it like it burned me. Something about his eager expression reminded me too much of Patrick—the same hungry look that had gotten me into trouble before.

"Yeah, I am." I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood up quickly, moving toward the aisle.

His footsteps echoed behind me as I made my way to the front of the auditorium. I yanked my earphones from my bag and shoved them into my ears, hoping he would take the hint.

I walked as fast as my legs would carry me. When I reached the crowded hallway, I glanced back over my shoulder. Oliver stood in the auditorium doorway, maintaining his distance. My shoulders sagged with relief.

I turned forward and immediately crashed into something solid.

"Oww!" Pain shot through my shoulder.

"Jeez. Watch where you are going!" The girl in front of me threw her arms wide as brown liquid splattered across her white blouse.

"Oh shit. I am so sorry." My hands flew to my mouth as the smell of coffee filled the air between us.

"It is fine." She sighed and pulled a handkerchief from her bag, dabbing at the growing stain.

"I am so sorry. Let me help you with that." I grabbed the handkerchief from her hands and pressed it against the wet fabric.

She tilted her head and studied my face. "Wait. I think we took the same class together earlier. Advanced Literature."

I handed the soiled handkerchief back to her. "Yeah. I am Eliana."

"Annabelle." She held out her hand, and I shook it. "Gosh, you are so pretty. Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question hit me like a slap. "Yes. Sorry, no."

She laughed, and I fell into step beside her as she started walking. "Which one is it?"

"No. I have had enough of that." The words came out sharper than I intended. "Why do you ask?"

She half-turned to me and winked. "So I can keep you for myself. Cannot let this amount of beauty be wasted on the undeserving boys of Emerald University."

A surprised laugh bubbled up from my chest. "Oh."

We reached the double doors at the end of the hall. Annabelle pulled one open and held it for me to pass through.

"Thank you." I adjusted my bag as we stepped outside. The noon sun blazed overhead, making me squint.

"So what is your story?" she asked.

"My story?" I frowned.

"Everyone at Emerald has got a story, Eliana. How did you end up here? Are you a runaway? Did you just conclude a messy breakup? Or did you come here because of someone? Which one is it?" She stopped walking and turned to face me, her green eyes boring into mine.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Without looking at the screen, my stomach already knew who it was.