Filed to story: Shhh Professor! Please Don’t Tell! Novel Free
I took it. It was as warm as soft as the energy she was filling my skin with.
She introduced me to her friends. Cynthia, Jasmin, and Annie. All of them seemed like smart, kind people. I liked all of them.
“What are your next classes?” I asked, going back to my work of wiping off the white board. I would think twice before writing down so many things again.
“I have pottery after this,” Cynthia said. “I’m an art major.”
“Nice,” I said. I enjoyed the role of the supportive teacher. There had been a lot of supportive teachers in my life.
“I’m done for the day,” Ellie said. “I’m a history major.”
I couldn’t play the role of supportive teacher with her. It was as if a switch was flipped inside of me. Everyone else was a student. Ellie was a woman. My mind and body responded to her differently; I couldn’t help it.
I turned from my work and made eye contact with her. “History?” I asked curiously. “How come?”
“Uh oh, here comes the debate,” Annie said. “We’ll catch you later, Ellie. I’ll text you.”
Her friends waved goodbye to both of us and headed out of the room. Ellie watched them go for a second and then turned back to me, her cheeks a little flushed again. It was adorable.
“I didn’t mean to start a debate,” I laughed, finishing wiping the last word off the billboard. It had been “love.”
“That’s okay,” she said, standing with her arms crossed, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands. “Annie is also a history major. We spent a good part of our morning talking about how men don’t think women can genuinely be interested in history the way they are.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” I said. “I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.” I meant it. She was clearly very smart. “Nor do I think that women are any less genuinely interested in history than men. Although I’ll admit there is less of a stereotype there.” I smiled at her, teasing. She smiled back.
“What did you mean, then?” she asked.
I laid down the dry eraser and leaned against the white board. God, she was beautiful. Her white t-shirt was tucked into a pair of black leggings. She was curvy, on the plumper side. Sexy.
I reprimanded myself. She was still a student, even if she wasn’t my student. Just because I felt differently about her than I’d ever felt about anyone at first sight didn’t mean that I could disregard the constraints of my job. Besides, I’d probably never really see her again after today. Maybe a sighting or two during the rest of the semester.
“I just meant that there’s not a lot of demand for it,” I said. “It’ll be difficult to get a job in that field. You’ll probably have to get a different kind of job at first, to support yourself while you’re looking for work.”
She sighed. My guess was that she had heard this argument before. Maybe it sounded a little different coming from me, though.
She sat down on the edge of the table, facing me. “I know,” she said, “but that isn’t going to stop me. I love history. I love what it can teach us. It teaches us so much about the present, about human nature. It’s so valuable. I don’t just want to learn about the past. I want to take what happened in the past and help people re-envision the future.”
I looked at her, feeling warm all over. Her eyes were sparkling as she stared ahead, her mind lost in thought. Her passion was almost tangible. What spirit.
“I think that’s very admirable,” I said, my voice hushed.
She smiled. For a moment we just looked at each other. I wondered if she was feeling the electric pull between us as intensely as I was.
“Have you considered a minor?” I asked. “It might be good to give yourself an extra set of skills. You know, as you’re climbing the academic ladder and need to pay rent.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Rent,” she sighed. “I’ll just marry a rich man,” she joked.
Me. How about me?
“May I suggest a business minor?” I asked. “That way you’d have valuable skill sets that would help you land all kinds of employment. It may even help you as you’re re-envisioning the future.”
I watched her considering it. Her eyes traced a pattern on the floor. She looked up.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
I smiled. “Please reach out if you have any questions,” I said. “My email is listed on the faculty page on Flynn’s website.”
She smiled back. “Maybe I’ll see you on Wednesday,” she said, and walked out of the lower door, the one I had entered the class through.
I stood there for a while, trying to hold onto the feeling of warmth she had left in the air.
I stepped out of Jackson Steele’s classroom and suddenly felt chilly. I felt as if something that had been keeping me warm was suddenly gone.
I walked across campus slowly, my mind on what he had talked to me about. I could add a business minor. I would be able to fit it into my schedule. It would add a significant extra workload, but I knew I could handle that. I’d gotten top grades in high school. My history homework would be intense, I knew, but it was all things I was good at: reading, note-taking, and writing papers. Things I enjoyed. Would I enjoy a business class?
I would if Jackson Steele was teaching it.
I bit my lip, feeling again the swirl of warmth I’d felt when I was near him. What charisma. The man had owned that room, capturing each of our hearts with his respectful sincerity. I would love anything he taught me if he taught it like that.
“Okay,” I murmured, kicking the first of the fallen leaves that was lying across my path. “I’ll add a business minor.”
I smiled and made my way back to my dorm. I tossed my backpack down onto the floor next to my desk and turned on my laptop. I needed to email my advisor. I wanted to email Jackson Steele.
I double-checked the list of required classes myself, and altered the four-year plan my advisor and I had already outlined. It would be simple enough to add the required business classes. I sent her an email, saving her the work and simply typing my altered plan out into the body of the email. She didn’t need to check for me to see if I could manage it schedule-wise, I was just telling her that I was going to.
I sent it, and opened up a new email draft. I sat there staring at the blank page, wondering what to say to Jackson Steele. I wanted to ask a question. To engage him in conversation in some way. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t know enough about business to think of a clever question to ask.
“What are you doing, Ellie?” I asked myself, rubbing my face with my hands. “He’s your professor. He’s probably almost-married to someone.”
I’d checked his hand for a ring, because obviously. There wasn’t one.
“He’s your professor,” I repeated to myself. “Helplessly intense crush or no, I am here to learn. I will behave like a student. I, as a student, do not have any questions, and therefore I will not send him any.”
I closed my laptop. I used my Keurig to brew myself a cup of tea. My roommate a nice girl named Julia who was studying nursing came back and we talked about our first day for a while. Then she left to go study in the library with her boyfriend.
I felt restless. I read through my history homework and took ample notes. There wasn’t a lot due yet. I think all of our professors had taken mercy on us, starting us off easy.
I decided to go for a walk. I put on a sweater, since I knew it had gotten chillier as the afternoon approached twilight. I tucked my phone into my sweater pocket and set off across campus.
The sun was setting. On the west side of the campus, we had a breathtaking view of the ocean. I wandered under the massive trees, breathing deeply of the salty air and enjoying the way the air was starting to tingle with the chill of autumn.