Page 1 of The Professor
1
EMMA
Imight be in my twenties, but as I step onto campus, I feel like a little kid on the first day of kindergarten again. Except instead of an oversized cartoon character backpack, I’m carrying fresh notebooks and my laptop in my favorite over the shoulder leather bag.
Excitement and anxiety turn in my stomach, and I inhale a lungful of fresh fall air to try and steady my nerves. All that does though is make the scent of sugar and coffee from the campus coffee shop flood my lungs. I check the time, and for all my panicked rushing about being late on my first day, I’ve ended up early. I debate whether or not caffeine will help energize me or just make the nerves worse, but decide to risk it.
The college campus is almost exactly as I remember it from my undergrad, just with a few more modern features and touch-ups. The trees are just turning orange and brown, but the grass is still lush and well kept, not the muddy slip and slide I know it turns into after the fall rain starts later in the semester.
The coffee shop is tucked into the front building, a modern interior that contrasts with the old exterior of the main buildings. Warm air rushes around me as I enter the busy cafe, joining the back of the line. I tap my fingers on my jeans as I read the menu on the board above the counter, deciding whether to get an iced or hot coffee.
Students are huddled around tables overflowing with notes and laptops, or discussing assignments in groups with animated hand gestures. I catch more than a few people yawning, or looking half asleep as they guzzle down coffee and pastries, and can’t help but think back to the first time I was a student here.
I imagine that they’ve been up all night, at parties or sneaking into bars with their fake ID, living out their college years the way all the movies and books say we should. I chew my bottom lip as I remember the only sleepless nights I ever had as an undergrad: studying before exams or trying to finish up a paper I left until the last minute. I was never wild, neveryoung and freeor whatever you’re supposed to be when you come to college for the first time. Hell, I never even had a boyfriend or a hook up or anything outside of a kiss. Suddenly, despite the fact I’m back to do my Masters, I feel very far behind everyone else around me.
The problem is that there’s only ever been one man I could imagine seriously being with, and nobody else has ever compared. I jump as someone behind me taps me on the shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. The girl waves her hand towards the coffee counter, and I realize the line has moved forward, a big gap forming between me and the person in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as I rush forward to close the gap.
If the girl says anything in response, I don’t hear it because a deep, smooth voice calls my attention
At first, I think I must be hallucinating because surely not. Surely I’ve just been daydreaming too hard and brought all the memories of him back to the surface.
“Thank you,” the voice comes again, and my heart slams hard against my ribs.
The world around me fades, everything ceasing to exist except the man picking up his coffee at the other end of the counter. Dark brown hair is pushed away from his face, perfectly tousled on top and cut short at the sides. A sharp jawline and strong nose makes my mouth go dry and when he turns with a coffee cup in hand, I lose my breath entirely. Pale, stormy gray eyes lock onto mine, his thick dark brows lower as his gaze trails over my body. I’m frozen in time, stuck on the way his navy shirt shows off his biceps when his grip on the coffee tightens, muscles flexing in a way that’s absolutely obscene.
I realize my mouth has fallen open, and slam it shut so hard I bite my tongue. I yelp, my whole body jumping, and his eyes widen as his lips part as though he’s going to say something to me?—
“Next, please!”
The barista snatches my attention, calling me forward to order, and I’m once again holding everybody up. My embarrassment grows, and I’m sure my face is bright red as I step forward and order the first coffee that comes to mind because seeing him has wiped every other coherent thought from my brain, including whatever I’d planned to order.
“One medium flat white?” the barista confirms, prompting me to pay.
I tap my phone to pay mindlessly, hurrying through the interaction so I can step away to wait for my coffee and check if I actually saw him or if he’s just some figment of my imagination.
At first, I think I really am going insane and imagining him because when I look, the spot he was just in is empty. But then I hear his voice again, like a damn siren song calling to me, and find him chatting to a student closer to the door. I can only catch a few words from my position, something about an extension for an assignment?
“Flat white for Emma?”
With a quick smile and thanks to the worker, I grab my coffee off the counter and take a sip, immediately burning my tongue. But I barely feel it, because I’m inching towards the sugar and creamer station, not because I need either, but because I can’t help but want to know what he’s saying.
“Come by my office during office hours and we can discuss an extension,” he says to the student, who nods gratefully.
“Thanks, Professor Page!” the student says before he turns and walks away.
I had planned to go up and try to talk to him, but those words stop me in my tracks.
Professor.
Professor Page.
Oh my God.
Oliver Page, the smartest boy in our entire graduating class and the biggest crush I’ve ever had, is a professor here.
I nearly drop my coffee, tripping over my own feet as I hurriedly rush out of the cafe. For a second, when I saw him, a sprout of hope had started to grow again in my mind but as I force myself away from Oliver's presence I know I have no chance with him. I'm pretty sure it's against all the rules for a professor to date a student, right?
