More Than Her Doctor

Chapter four....

Paloma didn’t expect her second class of the day to feel this exciting, but Kenya had a way of making everything feel like an adventure. They walked together across the quad, Kenya sipping on an iced matcha while Paloma balanced a small tote bag stuffed with too many textbooks.

“So wait,” Kenya asked, raising a brow, “you really live off campus and your roommate hasn’t shown up yet?”

Paloma fumbled. “Yeah, something like that,” she mumbled, hoping the lie sounded casual.

Kenya didn’t pry, just shrugged. “If she turns out weird, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Roommates are either blessings or straight nightmares.”

Paloma laughed nervously. If only she knew the truth.

They reached the Biology building and found seats toward the back of the large lecture hall. Girls clustered in little groups, whispering and giggling louder than usual. Paloma frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently the professor’s a total snack,” Kenya said nonchalantly as she tossed her bag on the floor. “Like—seriously hot. They say he’s young, like thirties or something.”

Paloma’s stomach dropped. She glanced toward the front, her heart already racing.

Then the door opened—and in walked Seojin.

He wasn’t just good looking. He was breathtaking.

Dressed in a crisp white button-up tucked into tailored black slacks, his lab coat flowing behind him like it had its own gravity, Seojin was the very definition of composed. His dark hair was styled perfectly, and those sharp eyes scanned the room with professional calm.

Paloma froze.

He looked nothing like the man who made her lunch the other day. This version of him was Professor Park. Reserved. Elegant. Untouchable.

“Damn,” Kenya whispered beside her, leaning forward. “That man is illegal. I’d fail this class on purpose just to get one-on-one tutoring.”

Paloma choked on air. “What?”

“I mean—look at him.” Kenya nudged her. “He didn’t even have to talk. That face alone is enough.”

Paloma’s cheeks flamed, especially when Seojin’s gaze briefly swept the back row—and stopped. Right. On. Her.

His eyes flickered. Barely. Like, he recognized her. But then, just as quickly, the expression vanished and he addressed the class.

“Good morning. I’m Professor Park. I’ll be your instructor for General Biology.”

His voice. God, his voice.

It was deep, calm, and had that slight hint of warmth that made people lean in. Paloma couldn’t breathe. She was suddenly back to being the little girl with a crush on the doctor who’d carried her in his arms as a baby.

Only now… she was nineteen.

And he wasn’t looking at her like she was a child anymore.

Kenya leaned over and whispered, “Girl, are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost—or like you’re in love.”

Paloma forced a laugh. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t.

Because Seojin was standing just a few feet away—and no one in the room knew that he had made her lunch yesterday. That he’d seen her bare-faced in pajamas. That they lived under the same roof.

And he looked so good, it physically hurt.

...

Seojin’s voice rolled through the lecture hall, calm and crisp, threading through the maze of diagrams and DNA terms on the screen behind him. His presence was magnetic—polished black hair, buttoned shirt rolled slightly at the sleeves, and a voice that made even the quietest girls shift in their seats.

Paloma was transfixed.

She kept her face neutral, pretending to take notes while her stomach did flips. He walked around the front slowly, his gaze never lingering on her but his awareness sharp. She felt it. She knew he knew.

Beside her, Kenya leaned over and whispered, “I swear if he says 'mitochondria' one more time, I'm gonna scream—but like, in a good way.”

Paloma bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Kenya continued, “Is he married? Engaged? Talking to someone? Breathing next to someone regularly?”

“Kenya!” she whispered harshly, cheeks warming.

The class ended with Seojin assigning a light reading on cellular respiration, his eyes sweeping the room as students began packing up. For a fleeting second, his gaze met Paloma’s. Cool. Calm. Direct. She felt a bolt of electricity shoot down her spine.

“Alright,” he said, setting his tablet down. “That’s all for today. See you next class.”

As students filtered out, Kenya and Paloma fell into step together.

“Girl, this class is going to be a problem,” Kenya said. “Like, an emotional one.”

“I know,” Paloma said, trying to keep her voice even. “But he’s... just a professor.”

Kenya scoffed. “That man is a work of art. A doctor and a teacher? He’s living out every w*****d fantasy here.”

Paloma laughed, adjusting her bag strap. They headed toward the main path that led to the library. Just as they turned the corner, someone stepped directly in front of Paloma.

Cameron.

“Hey there, freshman,” he said with a crooked grin, eyes sweeping her frame in a way that made her shift uncomfortably.

Kenya tensed beside her.

“What do you want, Cameron?” Paloma asked, keeping her voice firm.

“Relax,” he said, mockingly. “Just check to see if you survived Dr. Fine-As-Hell in Biology. Or should I say… Professor Daddy?”

Paloma rolled her eyes, but her stomach knotted.

“You’re such a creep,” Kenya snapped.

Cameron laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Touchy, touchy. Guess I’ll see you around, Paloma.”

He walked off, still chuckling to himself.

Paloma exhaled slowly, and Kenya slung an arm around her shoulder. “Ignore him. He’s all talk and no actual IQ points.”

“Still annoying though,” Paloma muttered.

“Girl, annoying people are like glitter. "They stick everywhere and show up when you the least want them to,” Kenya said, grinning. “But don’t worry—I got you.”

Paloma smiled. And she meant it.

…

The late afternoon sun bathed the university gates in gold as students poured out onto the sidewalk. Paloma adjusted her sweater and tugged her phone from her bag, already spotting the familiar black BMW parked just a few meters down the street. She quickly walked past groups of chatting classmates, not wanting anyone to see her get into his car.

She slipped into the passenger seat, closing the door quietly behind her as Seojin looked up from his phone.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft glance before pulling away from the curb.

“Hey,” she smiled, relaxing into the leather seat.

As they drove off-campus, he glanced at her again. “How was your day?”

Paloma let out a light sigh. “It was good. Busy. But… actually fun.”

“I noticed you made a friend,” Seojin said, turning onto the main road.

Her brows lifted. “What, were you watching me?”

He gave her a side glance. “Not watching. Just… noticing. You were laughing with someone after class.”

She smiled at the memory. “Her name’s Kenya. She’s cool. The kind of girl who doesn’t care what anyone thinks, but also? She’s real. I like her.”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding. “It’s important to have someone you trust around here.”

Paloma tilted her head toward him, smirking. “Unlike all the girls in your class who were eyeing you like you were dessert.”

Seojin’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly. “I noticed.”

“You’re such a ladies’ man, Professor,” she teased, nudging his arm playfully.

He sighed. “They can look all they want. If they don’t pass my subject, I won’t let them stay in my class.”

Paloma snorted. “That’s harsh. You sound like such a grumpy professor.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied casually.

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh. You’re insufferable.”

He glanced at her again, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

But her voice was lighter than usual—flirtier, softer. And when he chuckled low under his breath, her chest fluttered.

They didn’t speak for a few moments after that, just the soft hum of the car and the city rolling by. But the silence between them didn’t feel awkward. It felt… familiar.

And for the first time that day, Paloma didn’t feel like she was pretending.

…

Paloma flopped onto her bed the second she got to her room, letting out a satisfied sigh. The entire day had been a whirlwind—new faces, new classes, Kenya, Cameron, and, of course. Seojin.

She grabbed her phone, typing out a quick message to Kenya.

Home safe. My legs are killing me tho.

Let’s meet up early tmr?

Kenya responded almost immediately.

Bet. Don’t be late or I’ll fight you.

Paloma smiled to herself, tossed the phone aside, and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. Steam filled the space as she rinsed off the day, her mind drifting… to the moment Seojin stood in front of the class. So serious. So focused. So annoyingly hot.

She slapped water against her cheeks. “Stop,” she muttered to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt, she padded downstairs, craving something cold. Preferably strawberry yogurt. She opened the fridge.

Nothing.

Paloma blinked. “No way.”

She opened the lower drawers, then the pantry. Still nothing.

With an exaggerated sigh, she muttered, “Time to beg the rich man for some grocery cash.”

She turned toward the hallway and made her way to Seojin’s room, knocking gently. No answer.

“Seojin?” she called.

Still no response.

She was about to turn back when she noticed a door slightly ajar down the hall. Curious, she pushed it open—eyes widening in wonder. It was a library. A whole damn room with wall-to-wall shelves, cozy seating, and warm lighting that made it look like a scene from a romance drama.

She stepped inside, completely mesmerized, fingers brushing the spines of neatly arranged books.

“Wow…” she whispered.

She was so lost in a row of classic novels that she didn’t hear footsteps behind her—until she turned… and nearly dropped dead on the spot.

There he was. Shirtless.

Hair is slightly damp. Slacks are sitting way too low on his hips. Defined abs. Strong chest. A literal god.

Paloma’s jaw was unhinged. She froze, her brain short-circuiting. Oh my God—oh my God.

Seojin paused, noticing her in the doorway. His brows rose calmly, not at all fazed.

“Looking for something?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.

Paloma’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then they opened again. “I—I-uh—I was—I mean, I thought—” She pointed backward at nothing in particular. “Yogurt.”

He quirked a brow. “Yogurt?”

Her face burned. “I mean, we’re out. I wanted to ask for—uh—money. For groceries. I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—see. Anything.”

He chuckled. Slowly. Wickedly. “Clearly.”

She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“I’ll take you shopping once I finish up here,” he said, stepping past her casually like he hadn’t just turned her into a mess of overheated hormones.

She just nodded—too stunned to reply properly.

As she walked back down the hall, her heart thundered in her chest. Her cheeks were still flaming, her thoughts completely inappropriate.

“Get it together,” she whispered, smacking her forehead.

But the image of Seojin’s bare torso burned behind her eyelids.

And honestly… she wasn’t sure she wanted it to go away.

…

When Seojin left the house, he told Paloma he’d be back by nine in the evening. “Take care of yourself,” he said, “Microwave the cheese pasta I made if you get hungry. You can do whatever you want, but don’t leave the house.”

Paloma rolled her eyes but said, “Fine by me.”

As soon as the door clicked shut, she burst into energy. She jumped on the bed, stuffed her face with popcorn, binge-watched K-dramas, texted Kenya nonstop, and even video-called her best friend, laughing like there was no tomorrow.

Later, curiosity got the better of her. She crept into Seojin’s room, noticing the door was unlocked. The room was sleek and black, sophisticated yet comfortable. She skimmed through the books on his shelf—mostly medical and academic—but one caught her eye: How to Train a Child. Sticky notes peeked from the pages, making her wonder if Seojin had a secret child somewhere. She shook her head, deciding not to overthink it.

Her gaze drifted to his closet. She opened it, inhaled deeply, and blushed as his familiar scent wrapped around her. Without thinking, she slipped off her top and pulled on his black t-shirt. The fabric was enormous on her, almost like a gown.

Feeling sleepy, Paloma sat on his bed and opened the child training book, but exhaustion took over. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Hours later, Seojin returned with a box of donuts in hand. He called out softly, but the house was silent. Thinking Paloma had gone to bed, he headed upstairs.

When he reached his room, he noticed the door ajar and stopped short. There she was—Paloma—curled up peacefully on his bed. He didn’t want to disturb her and quietly placed his book on the table. After changing into a plain white shirt and night trousers, he moved toward her to carry her back to her room.

But before he could, Paloma stirred, wrapping her arms around him tightly in her sleep.

Startled, his heart raced.

She opened sleepy eyes, looked up at him, and whispered, “I want you… Please stay.”

Seojin's breath caught. Instead of pulling away, he stayed by her side, feeling a warmth and closeness that should have been forbidden but was too comforting to resist.

He kissed her forehead gently and settled beside her, letting sleep take them both.