Semua Bab The Professor and Her Varsity Twins: A Campus Scandal: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Five minutes before class started, the seats were already full.They always were.Alessandra paused outside the lecture hall just long enough to check her reflection in the dark glass of the classroom door. Not to fix anything—nothing was out of place—but to take inventory.Long hair, worn down. Soft waves over sharp shoulders. Black silk blouse tucked into a high-waisted charcoal skirt that skimmed her hips just enough to suggest confidence without asking permission. Gold hoops. Red lipstick—subtle, but intentional.Power wasn’t about modesty.Power was about control.She pushed the door open.The low hum of conversation died instantly.Eighty-four upperclass political science students turned toward her in near-unison. The air shifted. It always did. Anticipation. Curiosity. Calculation.GOV430: Political Scandal.Her course.Her name was on it in the registrar’s office—her design, her syllabus, her intellectual property. It was the class that secured her tenure at Bastian College six

Ethan preferred the back left quadrant of lecture halls.Not the back row — that was Liam’s stage. But two rows up, slightly off-center? That was strategic. Clear view of the board. Clean acoustics. Fewer distractions.Government 101.Required. Foundational. Manageable.Beside him, Liam dropped into the chair like he’d just claimed territory.“Over/under,” Liam murmured, glancing at his phone. “Two minutes before she clocks us?”Ethan didn’t look up from his laptop. “You’re assuming she cares.”“She’ll care.”Their faces were everywhere. Campus posters. Athletics promo reels. An NCAA feature praising Bastian’s “freshman twin pitchers poised to reclaim championship glory.” Four seasons without a title had turned into a narrative. And thanks to NIL — the NCAA’s Name, Image, and Likeness policy — that narrative now came with contracts.Athletes could monetize their personal brand. Appearances. Sponsorships. Social media partnerships. It was marketed as empowerment. In practice, it meant

Theta Rho did not do small.The house glowed like it had been dipped in gold — string lights strung from balcony to oak tree, bass vibrating through the porch boards, bodies moving in a rhythm that felt less like dancing and more like conquest.Liam thrived in it instantly.“Vale twins!” someone shouted from the lawn.The orbit formed within seconds. Girls in cropped sorority tees. Freshmen trying to look older. Upperclassmen pretending not to stare but absolutely staring.Liam gave them what they wanted — a grin sharp enough to cut glass.Ethan stayed half a step behind him. Relaxed. Observing. His hearing aids caught the music in controlled bursts, but his eyes did most of the work.They hadn’t even made it through the front door before Maddox Reyes intercepted them.He didn’t need to be loud to command attention.President of Theta Rho. Political science major. Olympic-hopeful swimmer. Campus fixture. The kind of guy donors remembered by name.“Vale twins,” Maddox said, shaking the

Practice that afternoon was brutal.The sun sat heavy over the field. The air felt thick enough to chew, pressing down on shoulders already tight with expectation. Even the dirt seemed hotter than usual, baking beneath their cleats.Liam jogged up beside him during warm-ups, fully recovered and infuriatingly energetic.“So,” Liam said, bumping his shoulder, “how was your academic adventure?”“A blonde told me to tell you hi.”Liam grinned instantly. “Which blonde?”“Chloe.”“Do I know her?”“Not yet.”

The stadium lights made everything look cinematic.Too bright. Too clean. Too staged.Alessandra stood near the third base line with Sasha, Amir, and Lila, pretending she was here as a polite academic observer and not acutely aware of her own pulse.Music blasted. Students chanted. Phones recorded everything.Branding in real time.“God, look at this turnout,” Sasha said. “If they win the championship this year, it’ll be insane.”Alessandra folded her arms loosely. “Winning is good for institutional reputation.”Amir laughed. “You don’t stop being a professor, do you?”She smiled.But her eyes were already on the field.Liam jogged out first.Pitcher.The crowd erupted.He lifted his glove in acknowledgment like this was exactly where he belonged. Which, she suspected, it was.He threw warm-up pitches with easy power. Confident. Fluid. Designed to be watched.His first pitch of the game hit the glove with a crack.Strike.The crowd roared.He fed off it instantly — shoulders broader, g