prologue

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   Just one month into the school year, our Critical Thinking through Literature professor unexpectedly left, and a new face stepped in. This transition stuck in my memory due to its abruptness. Ms. Luvlend, our original professor, made quite an impression. A middle-aged woman, she sported more lipstick on her teeth than on her lips. Despite her loud and somewhat messy demeanor, and occasional organizational hiccups, she earned a positive reputation for her effective teaching style. Unlike some other professors who harshly graded assignments, Ms. Luvlend provided constructive feedback that helped me actually learn and maintain my confidence.

Entering the classroom on the Monday following Luvlend's unexpected departure, I settled into my usual spot towards the middle to back of the lecture hall. Despite the manageable class size, my social anxiety had kept me at a cautious distance from my peers throughout my time at CU Boulder. The lack of friends was undoubtedly my doing.

As I took my seat, my eyes instinctively darted towards the door, anticipation building as I nervously awaited the arrival of the new professor. I had been doing well in the class under Luvlend's guidance, holding a high B, almost on the cusp of an A. There was an underlying concern that this academic harmony might be disrupted by the introduction of this mysterious new instructor who had yet to make an appearance. The prospect of change loomed, and I hoped it wouldn't tip the scales unfavorably.

As everyone settled into their seats, he made a commanding entrance, striding in with purpose. His long fingers casually threaded through his dark hair as he moved gracefully to his newly assigned desk.

With a voice that resonated deeply and smoothly, he apologized for his tardiness, his attention momentarily fixed on the papers laid out before him.

As his gaze met ours, a pit formed in my stomach. Unanticipated, an intense attraction towards this man had taken root, becoming a challenge I hadn't expected. His eyes, a mesmerizing ice-cold shade of blue, held a captivating quality that drew me in. His angular face showcased high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, with a slightly prominent forehead. His effortlessly maintained hair fell perfectly over his forehead, nearly reaching his eyes. A striking figure, and it was clear that the lecture hall buzzed with that unspoken acknowledgment.

Introducing himself, he began, "I'm Cillian." It dawned on me then, his voice carried the distinctive lilt of an Irish accent, adding an extra layer to my growing attraction. "But to all of you, I'm Professor Murphy."

Anxiously observing him, the fluttering butterflies in my stomach became increasingly hard to ignore. His tall, slender frame became more apparent as he moved from behind his desk, casually leaning on the side as he read off the attendance sheet. Each moment felt like an eternity as I awaited the announcement of my name, eagerly anticipating the moment his eyes would finally meet mine. For me, eye contact was very important.

The resonance of my name, "Clementine Érasme," echoed through the room, causing my heart to almost leap out of my chest. A wave of heat ran through my body, and the blood rushed to my cheeks as I hesitantly raised my hand, preparing myself to respond.

"Here," I uttered, the sound barely escaping my lips. His gaze finally settled on me, then back down at the paper, then finally, back on me.

"French?" he inquired, his focus drawn to my last name, unmistakably French. Though my connection to French heritage was distant—my great-grandfather moved here from France, having settled in America long before my grandfather came into the picture.

"Yeah," I replied, this time louder, accompanied by a subtle nod. I chose not to mention my preference for the name 'Clem' over 'Clementine' to Professor Murphy. I loved the way it sounded when it came out of his mouth.

As he nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze momentarily shifted away to resume taking role. Yet, in that fleeting moment when our eyes intertwined, an inexplicable transformation took place within me, marking my newfound obsession with Professor Murphy.

my professor, my obsession || cillian murphyWhere stories live. Discover now