Falling for the Professor

Emma, anxious about the seminar, crosses the campus. The description of Ashbourne University catches her attention. She feels pressured by her family to stop reading literature Emma Grant's chest constricted as the chapel bell rang across the green, its sound cascading out in slow, resonant waves. There were ten minutes left before class began. I stayed until the beginning of the class. She sped across the stone path, avoiding a girl filming a t****k by the fountain and two cyclists who were running. Even though the ivy of the Ashbourne Humanities building was incredibly green for late September, she still felt out of place because of the arched and weathered carved wooden doors. If your family didn't donate to the library or have their name inscribed on one of the lecture halls, Ashbourne University had a way of making everyone feel like an imposter. Emma stopped outside Room 203 of Hollister Hall and clutched her satchel's tattered leather strap. In her mind, she could already hear her mother saying, "Literature won't pay." The discussion ended with the well-known call to action: either think about switching your major or start paying for your own tuition. your major or start paying for your education. Emma hadn't altered it, though.She'd waited a year to take that course and wasn't dropping it. Dr. Julian Ashford teaches Literature and the Modern Self. There had been rumors about him. He had authored a book that received recognition at the time. He had no tolerance for flimsy arguments or tardiness; he was both brilliant and terrifying. r It appeared that the upperclassmen thought his beauty was unfathomable. They believed his beauty was unreal. Emma didn't come to stare. All she wanted was to make it through the class. Perhaps even discover something that taught her that she didn't have to live the life her parents had predetermined for her. With a slow exhale, she opened the heavy oak door and entered. --- She thought the room would be bigger; it was more like a library reading room than a classroom. A long, dark seminar table took up most of the room, and on one side, tall windows let in soft, pale light. The smell of paper, old books, and wood polish was in the air. She arrived early. Before her, only two students had shown up, two men in polos discussing graduate school. Halfway between the window and the wall, she sat at the far end. She didn't want to come across as too eager or too unnoticeable. Don't be overly eager. She didn't want to come across as overly eager or unnoticeable. More pupils began to arrive. A girl A boy in a beanie is carrying two iced coffees. high ponytail. A quiet man who opened Camus right away. When she heard a whisper, she braced herself for two iced coffees. Emma's hand was shaking, so she tapped her pen on her notebook. When she heard a murmur, her heart raced. He turned with a smug smile and no blazer. He had walked in silently. --- She wasn't what she expected from Dr. Julian Ashford. He was wearing a cold, dark gray sweater with the sleeves pushed up. Yes, he was well dressed, but in a carefree way, and he wore black slacks without a tie. The sleeves of his dark gray sweater were pushed up to his elbows. He was dressed casually in black slacks. His hair was He seemed to be looking at nothing and everything at the same time. Too often, through-placed. His eyes couldn't be read. There are no handouts included in the syllabus. injured in a manner that appeared to be intentional. L He seemed to be looking at nothing and everything at the same time. He split He said, "People who were on the verge of falling apart wrote most of what you'll read this semester." He folded his arms loosely, as if he were not planning to teach, but he was overly submissive. He had a faint accent rather than a full one. wrote the majority of what you'll read this semester while he was collapsing," he said. His tone was even and low, with a hint of Britishness. His accent was not fully developed, and he intended to pose questions and arguments to the audience. One. It seemed as though every word had been carefully chosen before he spoke it. Emma was not breathing. Julian looked around the room. "It's not your job to admire them. To argue with them, that is. Presenting them with challenges and arguments is the goal. The goal is to inquire about the author's reasoning for their actions and the associated costs. He hesitated. "You are included if he did not see you." She could not see into his soul. Emma nervously cleared their throat. Julian's eyes lingered on each pupil long enough to make them uneasy. It was like staring into glass when his eyes briefly locked with hers. He was not able to see through her. She could not see into his soul. Then he turned his head away.