Professor Novelas e Histórias

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.

The lecture hall had emptied hours ago. Professor Marcus Kane, 42 years old, sat behind his desk in his private office. He was known as one of the strictest professors on campus, tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp eyes, and an aura of authority that made students both fear and crave his approval.

“He’s here. He is qualified for the job, and he’s had his own past in a world with men like Lorenzo.” “Bring him in.” She opened the door wider. A man entered with the kind of stillness that clears a room. Tall. Dark hair, neatly kept. A charcoal suit that didn’t announce itself and a gaze that did, cool, attentive, unhurried. He stopped at a polite distance, as if measuring the space between us and deciding not to invade it. “Mrs. Blackthorn,” he said, nodding once. “Elias Gray. Thank you for accepting me in your firm. Ms. Vale told me that you needed a lawyer as a second advisor to your lawyer.”

I answered, seemingly uninterested. “Clevincent Madriano Suitarez! He’ll be our professor for our major subject all year. Oh my gosh, I’m definitely not going to be absent,” my friend said, still holding onto my arm. But I couldn’t help but smile at what Sheila said, good thing she didn’t see it.

Martinez Alejandro. The results populated smoothly. Academic databases. Conference papers. University profiles. There he was. Headshot a little bit blurry but not shabby enough that it didn't work for an academic lecturer’s profile picture. I leaned back against the desk, eyes scanning. Humboldt University of Berlin. Department of International Political Economy. Lecturer. Not adjunct. Not visiting. Permanent. My lips curved slowly. I tapped into the staff ranking list, scrolling with deliberate patience. One. Two. Three... And, finally, there.

I patiently waited for Maya to finish chatting with her friends but she turned to me and said, “I’ll catch up in a minute, you can go on” I nodded and walked on. “Mr Rivera” I turned, Professor Cross was standing nearby in an expensive-looking navy suit. “Professor Cross” I greeted softly while adjusting the strap of my bag. “Good afternoon” “Oh, don't be so formal,” she said with a soft laugh, walking closer. “I wanted to congratulate you. I'm a member of the editorial board and I've seen your work. Very impressive I must say” I blinked and tried to hide my smile, “Oh thank you”

We made our way to two empty seats at the back. “Hey,” Liam whispered moving over for us to sit next to him. “Get lost asshole,” Macy retorted before I could say a word in response. She held my hand and made me sit. “What is going on? Why do you look so pale?” she whispered. My gaze never left his. I gulped. “Why is he here? Where is the arts professor?” “Oh, that? Didn’t you get the mail? Professor Brown retired to his hometown. Professor Sebastian got transferred as his replacement. He’s hot isn’t he? That’s the reason why you were so distracted…”

He sets his notes on the lectern. My blood turns to ice. Then fire. He looks across the room. Calm. Professional. Utterly composed. Then his gaze finds me. And everything stops. For one suspended heartbeat, something flickers in those grey eyes. Recognition. Shock. Something darker that makes my stomach tighten. Then he looks away. Turns to the board. Writes in clean, decisive strokes. Professor Alistair Reid. Materials Engineering. The blood drains from my face. Someone behind me whispers. "Bloody hell, he's fit."

"I'm not signing anything until I know what it is." "It's your life raft," one of the men in suits said. He didn't smile. "I'm Mr. Miller. I handle the Professor's legal affairs. These papers state that you are a Junior Fellow for the Blackwood Archive Initiative." "A Junior Fellow?" I looked at Caspian. "I'm a student. I don't even have my degree yet."

The next second, the old professor stood up and walked towards Catherine. "Are you Catherine Swann?" Catherine's first impression of the professor was not bad. He looked at people with sincerity and wore simple clothes. He looked like someone who specialized in research. Out of respect for the elder, Catherine took the initiative to stand up. "I'm Catherine!" The old professor also had a good impression of Catherine and took the initiative to introduce himself to her. "Nice to meet you, Catherine. I'm Marshall Hartley, a professor of electronic engineering at Styre