Professor Arc Mga Nobela at Kwento

Not from my pride. He nods, slow and deliberate. The room seems to hold its breath, charged with something I can’t name. I need to leave. Delilah was right: this man could be my downfall if I’m not careful. Crushing on a professor is a disaster waiting to happen. One mistake and I’m screwed. “Thank you again,” I say, pointing toward the card on his desk, keeping my tone professional. “I’ll make sure my profile is in your email before the next lesson.”

A wave of murmurs spread across the hall, but it sounded distant like I was underwater. He stepped forward, calmly. “Hello everyone. I’m Thiago De la Cruz—your new professor.” His voice, that same deep voice that asked if I wanted to sleep against his chest all night. My grip tightened around my pen. I couldn’t breathe properly. Then his eyes met mine. I inhaled sharply as my stomach flipped. A flicker of recognition and shock flashed across his face. His hand tightened slightly around the marker, just for a second but it disappeared just as fast. His expression went blank again.

It was her professor who had his stringent expression hovering on his face. "Yes, professor. Darius," Arianna replied in a subtle tone. "Do you want to complete your project or not?" He asked her with a solid expression. "Yes, Professor," she forced the biting words out of her crushing throat. Looking at the vexed assertion, her professor sighed. "He is the best in the city, Ms Reynolds. He may be an arsehole but he is a maven." He candidly admitted, making Arianna chuckle at his remark. Chuckling to himself, the professor cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. Please meet Damon right away," he politely advised her before exiting the cafeteria.

"So how's everything?" "Still torture," I said truthfully. "But I'm getting better at it now." "You are," she agreed in a quiet tone. For some reason, her approval made me smile with pride. Then, Ms. Grace, our professor appeared. She wore her usual lab coat with a lab goggle hanging around her neck. Her bright crimson lips pressed together with a serious look. Ms. Grace is the youngest professor in this school. She got her Ph.D. when she was only twenty, so I really looked up to her. Biology is the only class I take alone since Cammie and Alyssa also have their favorites.

"It's... Professor Lucas." Gina's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock as she shrieked. "Professor Lucas?! As in the hot history professor?" She nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Yes, Gin. I know it sounds crazy, but I can't deny the strong connection I feel towards him. It's like a magnetic pull that I can't resist." Gina blinked rapidly, trying to process the revelation. "Marcie, he's your professor! This is... complicated. Are you sure about this?"

“Hello Professor. My name is Kylie.” “Ah yes. Miss Kylie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “I have heard a lot about you Professor. My regret used to be that I had never seen the Saint of Anchor Academy before his departure from the University. The minute the opportunity came to study under you, I took it. I hope you will not think this presumptuous of me, but I cannot wait to start running around and assisting you.” “Haha! You are too kind child. I too have seen your transcript. You have an utterly brilliant mind child. I think you will be able to help me a lot.”

He was delivering his lecture on classic literature, his voice calm and measured, but all Belle could focus on was the tension in his shoulders, the subtle tightness in his movements that only she seemed to notice. No one in the room had any idea of the complicated, messy emotions swirling beneath the surface, and Belle liked it that way. They could sit here, surrounded by students, playing their roles, Professor Alabaster and his student and no one would suspect a thing. But the intensity between them simmered, barely contained, like an unspoken secret that threatened to spill out at any moment.

Standing next to Callum was an elderly professor of traditional medicine. He was clutching a pair of reading glasses with fingers that wouldn't stop trembling. He'd spent over 60 years studying needle techniques and had never thought much of anyone else's work. Yet today, Aria had shattered that completely.

I punctuate each word with a sharp poke to the chest. “I don’t know what you are talking about!” he starts to panic. "Yes, I remember you from three weeks ago but what are the odds that some hook-up from Sacramento would also be here in Santa Cruz?" he is starting to hyperventilate as he struggles to explain himself. “I had no idea you’d be my professor when I signed up for classes. How could I, I didn't even know your name?" I can smell the truth in his words. If he were lying, I'd taste it in his fear.

Was something else coming? We entered the Arcane building and made our way to Professor Hawthorne's classroom. It was a large, circular room with high ceilings and walls lined with ancient texts and mystical artifacts. The other students were already settling into their seats, and I noticed several of them sporting new jewelry that glittered in the morning light. Professor Hawthorne entered a few minutes later, her long gray hair braided down her back and her sharp eyes taking in the room with obvious interest. She was one of the older faculty members, someone who'd been at Lunaris longer than most students had been alive.