Chapter 5

"What do you mean you can't find my notebook?" I watched the skinny, pale guy in front of me with round eyes. "It has all my homework."

"I don’t know. I just went to the washroom and when I came back, it was missing," he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, no, no, no." Bending over the table, I started frantically searching in his pile of books. He took it during lunch break asking for help with notes, and now that I came to take it back, he had lost it? Where was his sense of responsibility?

I glanced at him, standing there staring. "Help me, Sheldon!"

He jerked to attention. "Y-Yeah, sure."

"Hurry up, please! I'm going to be late."

After several minutes of combing through the empty classroom he was using to study, I still couldn't find it. I turned to him frustrated, on the verge of crying. "I can't go to class without it."

"You can stay here then," he offered, sounding hopeful, "with me."

"What—" I caught a glimpse of blue behind him. Rushing to his backpack, hanging from a chair, I pulled it out.

My notebook!

I turned to him, disbelieved. "You had it in your bag all this time?"

He looked away, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Ana. I forgot I put it in there."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, but I didn't want to hurt him. Frustration coursed through me as I ran my hand over my face. My irritation, however, quickly dissipated when I realized I was late for Professor Valerious's class.

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit.

Grabbing my own backpack, I bolted out of the room without another glance at him. I didn't know if I was more scared of getting a tardy on my record and worrying mom, or facing the Professor.

Now that I ruled him out from my weird alcohol-induced moment, he should have felt less intimidating. Instead the fear sang a different chorus now. His daunting aura that seemed to swallow me whole, his soul-chilling glares, and his disdainful curl of the lips— I shuddered at the thoughts.

Pushing my way through the crowded hallway, I accidentally stomped on someone's foot. I threw a hurried apology over my shoulder, not slowing my pace. But fate seemed to have abandoned me today because the second I looked ahead, my gaze locked with a pair of tenacious green eyes, and my legs froze in place.

Too late.

I slammed into the solid wall of his chest, the force sending me flying backward before I crashed onto the floor. And as the cherry on top of my misfortune, my homework exploded around us like confetti, raining down in slow motion.

Only...I didn't remember my notebook having torn pages.

Swallowing hard, I shifted to ease the pain shooting through my nose and my back, my heart sinking as I found his eyes narrowing into slits. He looked royally pissed.

"Pro-Professor," I stammered, the blood freezing in my veins. "I..."

His gaze dropped to the ground, and I followed it, the soul leaving my body.

It wasn't my homework scattered at his feet.

They were love letters. Dozens of them.

Signed by none other than Sheldon.

I scrambled onto all fours, frantically snatching up the strewn pages, muttering curses at Sheldon under my breath. Embarrassment flared across my skin. First, late to class and now this? Any hope of making a good impression on the Professor had just flushed down the drain.

Panic gripped me, and for a second, I almost wanted to fall at his feet and beg for mercy. He wasn't going to punish me, was he?

Biting my lip, I glanced up to find him rigid before me. His eyes bore into mine with a new intensity that I couldn't quite read. "I—I'm sorry, Professor Valerious." I wet my lips, trying my best to look genuinely apologetic, praying it would somehow melt the icicles around his heart. "I didn't know about this, and I wasn't careful. But I promise that won't happen again..." I trailed off, frowning at his unreadable expression.

He looked like he was either battling an internal war or fighting the urge to strangle me. His eyes, glacial as usual, now flickered with a fire that went beyond anger. Something I couldn't quite catch.

Wait...

Suddenly, the awkwardness of our position hit me like a ton of bricks—something straight out of Fifty Shades of Grey. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the papers against my face. What was wrong with me?

Scrambling to my feet, I clutched the notebook to my chest like it could shield me from the red, hot mortification flooding through me.

"Clumsy human," he muttered, fists clenched so tight that the veins on his forearms stood out like cords.

I froze, deja Vu hitting me hard at his remark, and my mind went straight to that night.

"I reject you, pathetic human..."

My breathing slowed, the days-old battle between reality and delusion reawakening in my head. Before I could recover, he turned around and strode to the classroom.

Just before entering, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Stay here until I say otherwise," he ordered, before disappearing into the classroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

I jolted in my spot, his parting command fading to a blur as the pain heightened in my chest. Leaning against the wall behind, I inhaled deep to fight a rising panic. Nothing was making sense anymore. Every time I thought it was all in my head, he always brought me back to square one.

But logic differed, and I didn't know which to go with.

Green eyes? A common coincidence.

Giant build? Another possible coincidence.

His ruthless conduct? That man was like that with everyone, for God's sake. Though somehow it felt as though his harshness turned tenfold when it was me at the receiving end. But it could be another delusion I formed just because a similar man was the literal villain in my head.

Same ‘human’ remarks? Now, I had no idea how to sort that out.

The good thing was that his eyes weren't changing colors. Or else I'd definitely go out of my mind.

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. Maybe I was so hung up on that hallucinated event that my mind was making up things to reach a conclusion. It had to stop before I turned officially insane.

Remembering Dr. Johnson's anti-stress technique, I solely focused on my breathing and calmed myself.

As my mind cleared, the situation finally dawned on me. I had just been punished. But what about today's lesson? It was math, for God's sake.

I felt a well of tears building in me. It was all Sheldon's fault. How could he do this to me?

Looking around, finding others eyeing me while they passed by, I gulped down the tears and stood there patiently.

I couldn't help but think about what Jaxon told me a night ago. Stay away from that Valerious. Just as Talia said before. But why? Did they know something about him that I didn't? Since Jaxon left for his match, I didn't get the chance to ask.

Though judging by the way the professor acted, it would take even a child to sense the danger that he carried around like an icy cloak.

He didn't have to be so harsh with the punishment. Making a student miss class? That wasn't fair. I worked so hard on finishing those twenty pages of homework.

At times, I contemplated finding Sheldon, giving him a piece of my mind and coming back here before the class ended. But then the devilish face of Mr. Valerious appeared in the back of my mind, making me shudder. I couldn't make things any worse for me.

So, I stood there, ignoring the cramps I was beginning to get in my thighs and calves, hoping he'd call me in.

But he didn't.

Finally, the class was over, and students poured out, the first few giving me looks.

"Ana," Talia rushed towards me with Samara sulking behind, "where have you been?"

"Good thing you weren't there. That man is the devil I'm telling you," Samara complained.

"I know. He made me stand here the whole time."

"What an ass—ouch!"

Talia elbowed her in warning. "Don't."

"What? It's the truth."

Talia shook her head. "Let's go before we're late for the next class."

I nodded. "Yeah—"

"Ms. Miracle."

The booming voice from inside the classroom halted me on my feet.

My panicked gaze met the girls', and a similar fear flashed through each of their eyes.

"Did he actually hear us?" Samara whispered.

"I'm coming with you."

"No." I shook my head at Talia. "You'll get punished, too."

"Then I'll wait here."

"You'll do no such thing. You'll get late. Please, go. I'll be there soon."

"But—"

"Take her," I told Samara, turning to the door behind which the devil himself waited, and suddenly I wanted to take Talia up on her offer. But I couldn't risk both our grades.

As I curled my fingers around the door handle, a chill ran through me. The thought of seeing him again, and the anticipation of what he might have planned for me made the hairs on my neck rise.

An impatient sigh came from inside, perking my sensitive ears.

I swallowed hard. I was only making it worse by making him wait.

Not wasting another second, I took a deep breath, twisted the handle, and slipped inside.

He sat behind the desk, arms draped on the polished surface, and fingers steepled in a calm, commanding pose. His closed eyes only heightened the sense of danger that radiated from him, as if he were a predator lying in wait.

My steps felt heavy as I walked toward him, stopping before the desk on curled toes, and my heart thundering in my chest so loud it drowned out everything else.

"Y-yes, Professor?"

His eyes flicked open, landing on me with a sharp gaze. "Did I say you could go?"

"N-no." I shook my head, keeping my eyes down, but I could feel the burn of his glare on my cheeks.

"Are you here to fool around?"

My eyes shot up. "I wasn't—"

His large hand rose in the air, silencing me mid-sentence. "Spare me your excuses," he spat, his eyes hard, blazing with anger and... hatred?

"But I really—"

"I've seen your records," he interrupted. "It baffles me how someone with such ridiculous scores even qualified for this class."

His words cut deep, slicing through the pit of my stomach, wounding more than I wanted to admit.

"It's not too late,” he continued, his eyes raking over me with disdain. “I suggest you switch courses. Find something more suited to your…capabilities."

I stood there, stunned, his words twisting the knife deeper. The cruel look in his eyes made me feel like I was nothing but a waste of space.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I muttered, my voice quivering. I bit the inside of my cheek, desperate to stop the tears threatening to spill. Because it hurt so bad. Like my heart was getting ripped. But it shouldn't. He was judging me on sketchy knowledge.

A traitorous tear rolled down, and I wiped it off. I didn't want to cry. Not in front of him. He already thought of me so lowly. I couldn't add to it.

But I already did.

"Pathetic," he clipped and strode past me while answering his vibrating phone. "Hades."

"You aren't being too hard, are you?" someone at the other end spoke.

"Not enough," he answered, before exiting the room and slamming the door shut.

He was right this time though because I stood there, crying for the next five minutes, getting late for my next class like the pathetic person I was.