Tempting Her Professor

ARIA It’s the first day of the last year, and honestly, it still feels surreal. My name is Aria Morgan, and I’m in my final year at university studying Psychology, because I’ve always been fascinated by how the mind works. The way people think, feel, act… and all the things we do, consciously or not, just blows my mind. I stepped into the building where most of my lectures would be held this semester. The scent of coffee and ink hit me immediately, familiar and oddly comforting. Students bustled around, voices echoing off the high ceilings. I paused in the hallway and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper from my bag. On it, I had scribbled all my class time and lecture halls just in case. In case you're wondering… yeah, I’m terrible with directions. Ask me to explain attachment theory? I got you. Ask me where Room 304 is? I’ll probably walk into a storage closet. My first class is Ethics in Psychology, and my lecturer? Professor John, a very sweet man who already has grandkids but doesn't want to retire yet. Because he loves his job. Keeping the piece of paper safe, or I might just get lost today. I began to walk down to the lecture theatre, thankfully it is easy to navigate and not get lost under five minutes. I walked in and found a seat, getting seated.I took out my laptop and jotter and pen. I like handwriting things first. It helps me think. Everyone says typing is faster and sure, it is but there’s something about ink meeting paper that makes the concepts stick in my brain. Plus, I’d rather risk an ink stain than a laptop crash. Learned that the hard way in second year. As I set up, a familiar voice called my name. “Aria?” I looked up to see Jess, my closest friend in the department. We’d survived one horrible class in 2nd year. Became even more close when I tutored her , so naturally, she now ranked as a permanent buddy. “Jess!” I smiled, scooting over so she could sit. “Did you find the place okay?” She snorted. “I followed the coffee smell and the existential dread. Seemed like a psychology class to me.” I laughed—she wasn’t wrong. “Did you check the syllabus for this class yet?” she asked, pulling out her glitter-covered folder. Classic Jess. “Briefly. It’s mostly discussions, case studies, and apparently, there’s a big group project.” I groaned at the last part. Jess raised a brow. “Let me guess—you hate group work.” “I don’t hate it,” I said, twisting the cap of my pen, “I just hate being the only one who works in the group.” Before she could reply, Professor John entered. “Good morning, everyone!” His voice echoed through the room like sunshine in January. “Welcome to Ethics in Psychology. I see some familiar faces, and I’m excited for the new ones too. We’ll be challenging your brains and, hopefully, strengthening your hearts too.” That was the thing about Professor John he always sounded like a TED Talk waiting to happen. He launched into an introduction, talking about ethical dilemmas in therapy, confidentiality, dual relationships. Real-world stuff. Stuff that made you sit straighter and realized this is no joke. People’s lives are involved. Minds. Emotions. Trauma. I found myself jotting things down quickly. Not just notes. Thoughts. Reactions. Questions. Why do some therapists break the rules they swore to uphold? Is there ever such a thing as “justified” deception in therapy? What would I do, if faced with that kind of choice? I wasn’t sure yet. But I wanted to be. As the class wore on, and the daylight stretched longer across the windows, I felt it again—that electric buzz in my chest. The one that reminded me: This is why I chose this path. Not just to study minds. But to help heal them. Jess and I left the class together. We have all the same classes together because we decided to go for the easiest courses that do not have lecturers that act like we stole their boyfriends or girlfriends or wives or you know what I mean. They act like stuck up ass holes. We walked into another lecture theatre and I was surprised to see it filled up, 80 percent are females by the way. "What is the class so filled up?" I asked surprised. The room looked like the location of a mini concert. "I heard the new lecturer is a total hottie. So it's understandable, everyone wants to take a look."Jess replied. I raised an eyebrow. “A hottie? Seriously? Is that our academic standard now?” Jess grinned. “Relax, I’m here for the knowledge. But if he just so happens to look like a Greek god, I won’t complain.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. We managed to find two seats in the middle row, squeezing in between a girl with purple braids and another girl who smelled like vanilla and ambition. I glanced down at my schedule again. Advanced Psychology. So this was it—the big one. The capstone course. The class that determined whether we’d be ready to wear our grown-up therapist hats or go back to binge-watching Criminal Minds for comfort. The door opened and, just like in every cliché movie ever, the room fell into a strange hush. He walked in—tall, confident, composed—and for a full three seconds, I forgot how to blink. Jess wasn’t kidding. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a psychology textbook and a men’s fashion magazine. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Tailored navy-blue shirt rolled up to the elbows. Light stubble like he forgot to shave but still made it look intentional. And his eyes? Sharp. Focused. Like he saw everything. “Good morning,” he said, setting his leather-bound folder down on the table. “My name is Dr. Elias Carter. I’ll be your lecturer for Advanced Psychology this semester.” Dr. Elias Carter. Even his name sounded like a plot twist. He didn’t smile much, but when he did, it was the quiet kind—more in the eyes than the mouth. The kind of smile that made you feel like he already knew your secrets, and he wouldn’t judge… unless you lied to yourself about them. He scanned the room like he was mentally cataloging us all. His gaze briefly landed on me, and I swear, for a heartbeat, the air shifted. Or maybe I imagined it. Probably imagined it. “This class,” he began, his voice calm but commanding, “isn’t just about theories. It’s about application. Understanding people when they’re at their most vulnerable. Diagnosing accurately. Responding ethically. And yes… sometimes failing, and learning from it.” The room was dead silent. “If you’re here for an easy grade, this may not be the course for you,” he continued, casually leaning against the desk like he wasn’t detonating every girl’s brain. “But if you’re here because you want to truly understand the human mind and how to work with it... you’re in the right place.” Jess leaned over to whisper. “Okay, he might be hot and terrifying.” I didn’t answer. I was too busy scribbling down his opening words like they were gospel. Because suddenly, I didn’t care that I was exhausted. Or that I had two more classes and a part-time tutoring session later. All I cared about was this class. This moment. And the professor who, without even trying, just rewrote my entire idea of what this semester would be.