Page 49 of The Naughty Professor
He glanced at the screen.“Twenty-three thousand views.”
“Twenty-three thousand?!”My voice cracked on the last syllable like I was going through puberty again.
“Twenty-four thousand now.”
“Stop looking!”I hissed.“Put that away!”
Half the class had stopped working, staring at us like they were watching the world’s most awkward Netflix special.
I turned in a slow circle and snapped, “Everyone—back to work!”
The command cracked through the air like a whip.Beakers clinked, chairs scraped, conversations died.
Juniper wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.“Dr.Sterling, I didn’t know you could move like that.When you said you were into reaction kinetics, I didn’t think you meant—”
“Juniper!”
She pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin.“Sorry.Sorry.My bad.”
I sank onto the nearest stool, rubbing my temples.
Ron mumbled, “It’s really a great video, though.You should be proud.”
“I’d rather be vaporized.”
Juniper leaned over.“You know what’s funny?Half this class couldn’t balance a chemical equation, but they can all find your video on TikTok in under five seconds.”
“Juniper, please.”
She smirked.“Hashtag Dr.Thirsty’s trending, by the way,” she giggled.“Oh, lighten up, Dr.Sterling.Think of the publicity!You could make science sexy again.”
Across the room, I heard someone’s phone buzz, and another student stifled a laugh.
I wanted to crawl into the chemical waste bin and dissolve quietly.
“Alright,” I said, standing.“Enough.Experiments should be finished in fifteen minutes.Record your data.No phones.If I see a single screen, I’m confiscating it and possibly setting it on fire.”
* * *
By the time the last student filed out and the lab door clicked shut, the silence felt deafening.I slumped forward on my desk, face buried in my hands.My stomach twisted.I’d spent years building a reputation for being careful, competent, professional—and in one night I’d undone all of it.
I didn’t know what to do.I wanted to crawl under the desk, or maybe drop out of humanity entirely.My mind felt too full—like static, or boiling water that had nowhere to go.
That’s when I thought of my grandmother.
She’d always been the calm center of every storm—able to make disasters feel like funny stories that just hadn’t reached their punchline yet.When I was a kid and I’d burn something in the kitchen or fail a test, she’d just pat my hand and say, “Nothing’s ruined until you decide it is.”
ChapterSeventeen
Thorne
Sunlight spilled through the half-drawn blinds, a pale gold wash across the bed, bright enough to make me squint but soft enough that I didn’t mind.It touched everything—the old photo of my parents on the wall, the antique clock on my dresser, and the faint shimmer of glitter dusting the pillow beside me.
Glitter.That was new.
For a few seconds I just lay there, half-asleep, smiling without meaning to.My body ached in the best way—the deep, satisfied ache that told me last night hadn’t been a dream.
Then the realization came, slow and warm.
