Me And My Professor Novels & Stories

“I can help, but only if you stop being a dick about it.” I smirk. “No promises.” His grin in response is quick and sharp. “Asshole.” “Learnt from the best.@ We fall into something that almost feels like normal. There’s tension under the surface about the things we haven’t spoken of but for now, we’re working and I’ll take it. After editing, I duck into the hallway, just trying to breathe. And that’s when I run into my documentary professor. She’s older, strict, always has lipstick that somehow never smudges. She looks me over like she’s scanning for damage.

It's completely normal to feel conscious about what my professor will think of me-- I should be conscious because I'm his student and I need to do better and make a good impression on him. Oh gosh, what am I even thinking? Okay, fine. I admit it. ~*~ I'm still confused about what's happening. The man from that night is still a mystery to me and seeing my professor look exactly like him is something that I just can't still wrap my head around. And, when I asked my professor-- which I shouldn't have done because that was embarrassing and dumb, he said it wasn't him and he doesn't know me! I scanned my textbook and tried to read to get him off my mind but to no avail.

I roll my eyes as I quickly follow after my professor who seemed to want to run away from them. I reach him as he unlocked the doors to his office, “After you.” He says with a sweep of hand. I giggle, glad to be alone with him again. “I do like a gentleman.” “Too bad what you got was a gentle professor right?” he says as he locks the door behind him. “Did I get a gentle professor or a naughty professor?” He slides up to me, our bodies barely touching, our eyes drinking each other up. “Which do you want now? I can be your gentle professor, or your naughty professor.” He says as he locks me up effortlessly and plops me down on his mahogany table.

After class she called me to her desk. "Miss Nubia," she said. "You were not yourself today. Is everything alright?" "Yes, professor. I am just tired." "Tired." She looked at me over her glasses. "You have never been tired in my class. You are my most attentive student. So I will ask again. Is everything alright?" I wanted to tell her. I wanted to say, I met a man and he drew me and kissed me and now I cannot think straight. But that was not something you said to a professor.

she asked, wiggling her eyebrows, and I shook my head. "Nope, no boys," I replied, and she smirked. "Seems like you're hiding something," she teased, turning to face me, and I shook my head. "No, there isn't a dead body in my closet. What would make you think that?" I joked, widening my eyes. She laughed at my response. The professor entered the room and introduced himself to the class. He started going over the basics we needed to know, but I found myself zoning out almost immediately.

Maybe he was so dedicated, active, and had brought many lives to salvation. The bell rung and everyone started to pack up and went out. It was my usual routine to let everyone go out and I would be the last person to exit the room. My professor approached me as we were left. A thin deep cold voice came out from my professor. “Miguel, how are you?” “Professor, I am always doing well.” I smiled, making myself look graceful and obedient. “You know what I saw my younger self to you and how I have missed those days I was just attending my classes in the same school, in the same classroom fifty years ago. I usually let my classmates move out after our classes.”

Interesting. I returned to my office, loosened my tie, and grabbed my seat. I heaved out a sharp breath running my fingers over my temples. Lecturing is a hard part of being a professor. And studying is the worst of all. I hate it. Never in the slightest bit, did I think I would become a professor. I happened to venture into it without preparing. Maybe it was because of my late wife. We were both doing our internship back then and she always tells me she wants to become a professor. Her dream was fulfilled but was short-lived. She passed away from a brief illness.

Sunny’s POV “Miss Peruvian, would you like to see your grades for this semester?” My professor asked me as soon as everyone was able to step out of our classroom. “No ma’am, no need,” I spoke. My professor glared at me, her thick eyeglasses made her look like my real mom. We were both wearing thick round eyeglasses although she is definitely not my favorite prof, and so I am not her favorite either since I am not the smartest student in her class. “Miss Peruvian, you need to take this seriously, two years from now and the graduation will finally take place but we are not sure yet whether you’ll be involved in that ceremony or not.”

“Did you think you were Taylor Swift, little girl? Did you think writing too much like her would make me happy? She is already in the business. We don’t need another one.” I lower my head, clenching my fist because I want to shout back so badly. Professor Clarke is a sophisticated woman in her mid-thirties, but she has mood swings like a woman going through menopause. I don’t argue with my professors, but she’s the only one who upsets me to the core. “I understand, professor.” I’m also not the only student going back and forth at her office in the past few weeks, but I’m the last one she hasn’t passed.

Gage: Damn, Kai, did you catch an STD or something? Me: Screw off, Gage... just meet me at the apartment around lunch. I step out of my truck and make my way towards the first building. As I enter my classroom, I retrieve my books and prepare for the morning test. When the professor enters the room accompanied by someone, I can't help but burst into laughter. It takes all my self-control not to jump out of my seat and confront that person. Clearly, he doesn't realize that I recognize him. It's baffling how my professor fails to identify him.