Nerd Professor Novels & Stories

Lowering his head, Anderson caught sight of the wool-headed fellow who owned this building and everything in sight; Professor Nelson. According to what Hanson had said, Nelson's ability as a scientist far surpassed that of many esteemed scientists that exists these days. Was it not for his wanting to keep a low profile and stay low key, “even my own brother would not be able to match him!” By the by, Anderson's presence was announced by the cyborg, after which she turned around and left the room.

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but the door opened and everyone quieted down. The professor walked in, but his back was facing, so I didn't see his face at first. He had lean broad shoulders that filled out the white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had dark hair and a strong posture. A few girls whispered and giggled. Mara leaned over. “Damn, the new prof is fine.” I laughed under my breath. “You’re ridiculous.” Then he turned to face the class and my laugh died in my throat. Grey-blue eyes. The same angelic jaw. The same mouth that had been on me last night.

I thanked him politely, while he looked nervous, "before going into the class, would you like to have any drink or coffee sir? Should I order anything else for you?" "Take it easy please, no need to be nervous, we are like a family when working together, you can be at ease comfortably, because I don't eat humans" I know it's a satire, but don't know how he'll react to it, "you're so kind and generous sir" I'm sure he is a mad guy. As soon as I get into the class, the professor introduced me, "starting from today you're going to have a new guest professor, let's welcome Mr. Daniel Knight."

No more college and no degree, I would be stuck with dead-end jobs and wondering what the hell my future even looked like. I couldn’t let that happen. Professor Richard was the biggest distraction on campus. Young for a professor,around early thirties or so,broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline, dark neatly styled hair, and those wire-rimmed glasses that gave him this hot,nerdy and geeky vibe. His fitted button-down shirts always hinted at the muscular body underneath. I’d spent way too many lectures staring at him instead of taking notes. Get your shit together, Jackson. This is about survival, not your stupid crush.

They were inside a huge conference hall in a minute of impatient trekking. "Look who finally showed up," a tall man said to the professor. "Shut up, Gary. What's this breach alert about? Is it a virus that turns people to undead flesh eating monsters? Did the agitators finally succeeded on making such a serum?" the professor said excitedly. "Professor, why are you so obsessed about all that rubbish? It's not a virus. It's something more. Here, tell me what you think about this," Gary asked the professor as he handed him his phone.

I turned my gaze to Wenna and gave her a deadly look. While Rajiv just laughed next to me who also heard what Wenna said. "Char, it's just a joke!" Wenna chuckled and burst out laughing. I was a little relieved. Some people look at our students. Some of them look at me badly, others are curious. Maybe they are wondering why the new professor at this university is at the same table.

why he is an Ex soldier or the fact that he was seven years older than me. When I heard the class suddenly began to settle my eyes scanned over to the man who had just walked in as our new professor. “Good morning,I would be your professor for this class” I heard someone say. My eyes instantly moved to the front of the classroom and when I saw the man standing there, my heart stopped. It was killian, my step brother he is my new professor. I looked over to the side and I saw most of my coursemates whispered something amongst themselves as most of the girls giggled.

He was trying to act like he didn't care, but his eyes were full of fire. I reached for my chalkboard. I like the view here, I wrote. Huxley chuckled. "A woman of few words. I like that. But I prefer to hear a lady’s voice. Tell me, is the Professor treating you well? Does he let you leave the house?" I just pointed to the "Junior Fellow" badge on the table. "He’s very protective of his work," Huxley said, looking at Caspian. "Maybe too protective. You know, Blackwood, there are rumors that this isn't a research project at all. People are saying you’re just hiding a scandal."

In a haze, she flashed back to that blindingly sunny hallway in high school. The boy in a faded, patched-up uniform smiled cautiously, clutching a workbook. He stubbornly blocked her and her crew from skipping classes. His voice rang clear, clumsy yet full of concern. "Shannon, don't fight. You'll get hurt." She shoved him aside, snapped that he was butting in, and mocked him as a nerdy simp. Then she strutted off amid her friends' laughs. The truth was, she felt he was special at first sight. He was a top student favored by the teachers, but his poverty and those ragged clothes made him a joke fodder.

Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern. I should feel something sympathy, worry but all I can think is: Now who’s going to tell me my art is empty? The dean gestures to the stranger beside her. "This is Mr. Laurent. He’ll be your substitute instructor for the remainder of the semester." And that’s when I finally look at him. Jerome Laurent is not what I expected. Young too young to be a professor, maybe late twenties with tousled dark hair and a sharp jaw shadowed by stubble. He’s dressed in all black: fitted slacks, a rolled sleeve button down, boots that look like they’ve seen more than just a classroom.