The Professor Novels & Stories

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.”

Academic opportunities could not. “When do we leave?” “One hour. Station.” I packed fast and reached the station with coffee in one hand and my laptop bag on my shoulder. Professor Reed was already there. Dark wool coat, pale shirt, wind-touched hair, leather briefcase. He looked less like an external reviewer and more like a university brochure designed to ruin people’s judgment. His eyes paused on my coffee. “Morning.” “Good morning, Professor Reed.” “We’re off campus today. Daniel is fine.” I pretended not to hear him and looked for my ticket.

"Your slave did not fail in one's mission, master," the professor was kneeling down on the floor in front of the man who was sitting and drinking wine. "I commend you slave," the man praised the professor. "Master, may I be bold to ask for something?," the professor asked humbly. "Say it," the man said. "I wish for this man captured master as he is my mortal enemy," the professor said as he produced the image of Gary. But before the man could answer there were footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Professor McClone turned, a hint of surprise on his face. "Ah, Adeline! What can I do for you?" he asked. Adeline took a deep breath. "Professor McClone, I was wondering if you could tell me why Professor Wellesley wasn't teaching today," Adeline inquired. Professor McClone's expression turned guarded. "I'm afraid Professor Wellesley had an unexpected commitment arise. He'll be back tomorrow," Professor McClone replied. Adeline's disappointment was palpable.

I can see each muscle as she flexes, her calves high and tight as she balances on her four-inch heels. Just as I am sure one more step will make me fall over dead, the professor makes one last turn before stopping before a solid wood door. On a brass placard placed at about eye level, the word with the name 'Dr. Delilah M Davis is engraved. The number 225 is listed just above it with smaller, matching bras. Pulling a key from an inner jacket pocket, she jams it into the lock, twists, and with a quiet little click it swings open. Without saying a word, Professor Davis disappears inside.

Also, who dared to reprimand Colin like this? Oh, it was the professor. "Professor, do the police even care about putting people to sleep now?" I bravely faced Professor King's disdainful gaze and asked him. He solemnly shook his head and said, "Are the police so free now? But going to the police station can definitely sober up a drunkard." So that was what he meant. The professor was just messing with Colin again. Over the past few days, Colin had made countless video calls, checking in with me so strictly that it angered the professor. He scolded Colin for being useless and a clingy worrywart.

That was a feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time. "I see. I think you'll be great at it." He said smiling at me. I looked at him. How could he tell? "What about you?" I asked. "I'm not a student. I'm actually here to replace one of the psychology professors who's retiring at the end of the semester. I was asked to come and observe the last couple of weeks of his classes and get a feel for the school. I start this summer though." A professor? He didn't look old enough to be a teacher. Then again looks can be deceiving.

"Good morning, class." My head held high as I saw our professor, Mr. Wilson. He is only in his mid-twenties, I think, but at his young age, he was known for being a terror professor. If students fail, he will really fail them without utmost consideration. He doesn't go through special projects and for some worst case scenario, bribery. "Hmm, that's strange, Mr. Rodríguez. Why didn't you join your friends in ditching the class?"

I didn't speak any more and just waited for our professor to come to that subject. I was busy talking to Lexy on Messenger. I was even laughing because of the conversation between the two of us, only to be interrupted when I felt Brandon gently elbow me, which made me look up at him. "What?" I asked him, frowning. He shook his head, and I just realized that the whole class was silent. I looked at the front and saw a professor entering there. Our professor is a man, and I think he is in his mid-fifties. He looked around the whole class until our eyes met.

2 XAVIER I thank whatever fucking god that all of these idiots are finally done with this class. I have taught English literature for three years now. Each year has been a different experience for me. The first year was by far the best. I was a new professor. Twenty three years old. I was so excited for my first real year teaching. I was excited to prove to the world that I didn't get the job just because my father is the dean. At the start of my first year of teaching, I was the shiny new toy. All of my students loved me, and seemed to love my teachings.