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I often studied him, soaking in every single one of his quirks and unique traits, like the way he gave his students half-smiles as they spoke, feeding us the attention we needed to get through long hours of classes. Or the way he combed his hair back with his fingers as he read over one of his lectures.
Whenever he got really into teaching, he’d roll up the sleeves of his button-down shirt to reveal his strong forearms and, damn. That was everything to me. It reminded me of the day at the coffee shop when he took his shirt off. If I thought he was sexy before, well, when he really got into teaching the history of English arts, he was fine wine. He was a gentleman who exuded masculinity and strength, and I wanted him. I wanted him so bad, but I knew that was never going to happen.
Despite knowing, I looked forward to his classes every day and never missed one, not even when I had a stomachache from eating bad sushi, but I was sure he didn’t pay much attention to my presence other than that time at the coffee shop.
I was Zara Porter, the nerdy college freshman who still had to wear a retainer. I was the kind of girl who hated contact lenses because the thought of my fingertip going near my eyeballs bothered the hell out of me, so I wore glasses every single day instead.
I wouldn’t say I had a sense of style either. Jeans and T-shirts or hoodies with Chucks was always my go-to, though there were days I made an effort by wearing dresses to see if Professor Grant would notice, or if his gaze would linger on me more than usual. It never did.
I thought he may have been married, but there was no ring on his finger and I never heard him mention anyone in his personal life. Anyway, I guess my only good quality was my hair, long and thick and curly. People also told me I had nice brown skin, so I guess that was a perk too.
I checked my iPhone for the time and realized class was about to start. I finished drinking my avocado and banana smoothie, tossed the cup in the trash bin, picked up my books from one of the library tables, and left, making my way to Newman Hall.
As I walked inside, I could hear Professor Grant speaking before I saw him. My eyes ventured down the hallway, and he was standing outside his classroom speaking to Alisha Bell. I sighed.
Alisha was everything I wasn’t, and Professor Grant seemed to notice that. She was beautiful, with long brown hair and a stud nose piercing. She also had way more fashion sense in her left pinky than I did in my whole body, not to mention she was a junior and a cheerleader, so she was pretty well known around campus.
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and cradled my books against my chest, making my way toward class.
“Good morning, Professor Grant,” I murmured as I passed him.
He stopped talking to Alisha to look at me. “Morning, Zara.” His voice was deep and smooth. His half-smile damn near made me melt into a puddle in my shoes.
I couldn’t fight my smile as I walked deeper into the classroom, taking my seat in one of the middle rows. Alisha sauntered in seconds later with one of her friends, and then Professor Grant strolled in after checking his watch, cracking the door behind him.
He made his usual introduction then told us to take out our Hamlet books. As he spoke, I always noticed how the whole class listened. No one interrupted or snoozed—well except for one guy named David who wore the same blue hoodie and was always out cold in the back of the classroom. Other than him, everyone trained their eyes on Professor Grant, followed his instructions, and was quick to raise a hand, even though he’d told us many times that raising hands wasn’t necessary. To him, we were all adults, and I loved that he called us that. He was great at his job and so passionate.
“By the way, for those who are interested, I’ll be hosting a study group in the library tonight,” Professor Grant said. “I was told there was a slot available, and we do have the Hamlet and Macbeth essays coming up, which are crucial to your end-of-year results. So, if anyone is interested, I’ll be meeting there at six.”
Everyone murmured, and I noticed Alisha and her friend look at each other and nod with grins. Hell yes I was going, but I wished she weren’t.
Despite my wishes, I knew this was a night I couldn’t miss, and whether she was there or not, I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to be around my professor outside the classroom too.
