The Professor

Chapter Five | Mediocre

Thanks to James and his MacBook Air, I manage to get a decent hours worth of research done on my thesis. I save my document under a folder named 'SLOAN JACKSON'S WORK—KEEP OUT!' and email myself a copy for good measure. I still have five minutes before I need to head to my feedback session and the overwhelming urge to snoop takes over. James Hudson remains a mystery and I'd love nothing more than to uncover his deepest secrets. Still, I have my limits and breaching his privacy this way feels wrong. So instead, I power down and decide to go in search of his office earlier than needed.

He was right. It's located near the entrance of the building, but what he failed to mention is just how luxurious it is. Leather couches line the wall opposite his door, plush and practically untouched. A bookshelf housing classic literature is the main focal point and I find myself wandering over, inspecting the condition of Pride & Prejudice.

"Thank you for coming. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

James' voice startles me and I drop the book, desperately trying not to curse as it lands on my toe.

"Thanks, James."

Clarissa clutches a folder to her chest and smiles at me as she exits.

"Wrecking the spot, Sloan?" asks James, smirking.

I quickly put Pride & Prejudice back to its rightful position and follow him into his office. Much like the waiting area, it's gorgeous. A mahogany desk the size of my bedroom sits in the middle of the room and a couch identical to the one outside lines the back wall where a breathtaking view of the city centre sits beyond a bay window.

"Nice place," I say, taking note of the way the space seems to have captured his smell.

Lemongrass and sandalwood is quickly becoming my favourite scent.

"Thanks."

I sceptically eye his small bookshelf, silently questioning his lack of anything pre- 1990's.

"Those are all works from past students."

"Oh. You weren't lying about getting results," I say, taking a seat on the couch.

To my astonishment, he sits next to me.

"Did you get some research done?"

"Yes, thanks."

I hand him his laptop back.

"Do you need it for tonight?" he asks, hesitant to take it back.

"I'll take one out on loan from the library," I assure.

He nods and positions the laptop next to our feet. "You were right, by the way."

Huh?

"About Clarissa. Her father died two weeks ago."

"Oh, shit!"

"I apologised for my behaviour and she's agreed to rejoin the class tomorrow."

I can tell by his stiff posture and strained jaw that he feels terrible for the way he treated her yesterday.

"You weren't to know," I soothe.

"But you were right. I should've assumed something was wrong."

I shrug.

"I'm sorry," he says, lowering his voice to a gentle whisper.

I match his tone and bring my head ever so slightly closer to his. "You're forgiven."

He smiles and materialises my essay from a stack of papers on his desk.

"You have potential, Sloan."