Romancing Mr. Achille

The sun hung lazily in the mid-morning sky as I stepped onto the sprawling campus of Eldridge University. Towering red-bricked buildings adorned with ivy greeted me, a sense of academic stress hanging around me. My first day, and I was already running late. A quick glance at my phone revealed time slipping away, and I broke into a run towards the administrative department. Inside, a middle-aged woman sat behind a cluttered desk, her expression a mix of annoyance and forced courtesy. "Hi, may I please get a copy of my schedule?" I asked, trying to sound polite despite my internal panic. She sighed audibly, shooting me an annoyed look that morphed into a half-hearted smile. "Your name and course?" her uninterested voice floated through the room. "Noah... Noah Kingsley, Master’s of Psychology." As the xerox machine whirred to life, I impatiently tapped my foot, watching the seconds slip away. Finally, the copy was in my hands, and without a word of thanks, I bolted from the administrative haven, dashing through the corridors of Eldridge's building. The walls seemed to echo my footsteps, amplifying my tardiness and the fact that I was running late. The university architecture, a blend of traditional charm and modern functionality, guided my hurried journey. Arched doorways led to hidden courtyards where students studied under the dappled shade of ancient trees. The smell of old books and polished wood lingered in the air, and the distant murmur of conversations added a soundtrack to my mad dash. I laughed at my unsullied sense of humour and mentally punched myself for watching an entire season of a drama just because I wanted to escape bad thoughts. I really needed to work on my prioritising skills. I huffed and slowed down as I marched the corridor the class was situated. Finally arriving at the classroom, I halted at the door, taking a moment to fix my wind-tousled hair and regulate my breath. The heavy wooden door loomed before me, a gateway to both my academic future and potential embarrassment. This was going to be bad. What if the professor turned out to be a meanie and held arriving at the class late against me? I tried to calm my nervousness down and with a soft knock, I cautiously entered, "Excuse me? May I please come in? I was held up at the admin department." The room turned to face me, and there, at the front of the class, was the unexpected twist in my chaotic morning. The professor, turned towards me, his eyes momentarily locking with mine. He was not just a professor; he was a masterpiece of nature's creation. His dark hair framed a face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves, and the twinkle in his eyes hinted at a hidden depth. His face was so delicately sculpted that it resembled both manliness and a hint of femininity round the eyes, encasing crystal coloured eyes, dense lashes that could make any woman jealous. A strong nose and a stubble covered jaw. He looked like a mix of Henry Cavill and Andrew Scott. Time seemed to pause as we exchanged glances, the realisation of my lateness momentarily forgotten. As the eyes of the class turned towards me, Professor's gaze held a certain curiosity. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging my presence, and then, with a measured smile, he posed a question. "Since you've graced us with your arrival, care to enlighten the class with your knowledge? Can you tell us something about Psychology?" his voice flowed over to me, smooth but with a hint of roughness. A hush fell over the room as all eyes shifted from the professor to me. The question hung in the air, challenging my credibility. A surge of determination replaced the lingering embarrassment of my late entrance. Drawing a steadying breath, I launched into an articulate response. "Psychology, as defined by the American Psychological Association, is the scientific study of the mind and behaviour. It encompasses a wide range of topics, from understanding basic processes such as perception and memory to exploring complex phenomena like personality and social interactions. Psychologists employ various research methods, including experiments, surveys, and observations, to unravel the mysteries of the human psyche." The professor's eyes narrowed slightly, a subtle hint of approval glinting in them. The tension in the room eased as my classmates seemed to appreciate the impromptu lesson. A faint smile played on Professor's lips. "Well done," he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine admiration. "It seems we have a student who not only values punctuality but also possesses a commendable understanding of the subject matter. You may take a seat, Mr..?" I fumbled, "Kingsley.. Noah Kingsley, Sir." His eyes linger on mine before he breaks into a well practiced smile and gestures to the empty seat in the front. "My name is Dr. Viktor Achille. you may address me as Mr. Achille. Welcome to Psychology, Mr. Kingsley." Relief washed over me as I slid into the empty seat. As I settle down, I can't help but steal a glance at the professor. His approval, though subtle, added a layer of confidence to my first day. Those crystal pools stare at me for a second and then turn back to the board behind him. He walks to the board and writes "Etymology" in a neat, cursive scrawl. I already love it. His biceps stretch in his shirt as he reaches to the top of the board. The billowy blue color of his shirt draws my attention. I try to focus on the board or on jotting down notes because my heart jumps every time his eyes meet with mine. The classroom hums with the rhythmic tone of Professor Achille's lecture. The boy next to me leans over and slowly whispers, "Hey, I'm Casper!" I smile and offer my hand which he eagerly takes, "Noah" Casper leans over, his voice a soft whisper. "Impressive. You're acing this on your first day." It makes me snicker. "I see you, he looks the definition of delicious doesn't he?" I feel myself taking in his form as he moves across the room. I look at Casper and nod. We hold back our grins and concenterate on the lecture. Our little euphemisms blends with the professor's explanation, creating a backdrop of shared amusement and mutual admiration. When the lecture comes to an end, the room starts emptying gradually. As I start to pack up, movement catches my eyes. Professor Achille makes his way towards me. I look up at him and my heart skips a beat. He is even more gorgeous up close. He gives me an easy smile and asks me to stay back for a while. I nod and he smiles at me. As the last student filed out, he gestures for me to approach. I slowly walk towards his desk. "Ah, the prompt and knowledgeable newcomer," he remarks with a twinkle in his eyes, his voice smothering me with it's low baritone. He extends his hand and I take it, his hand surprisingly feels like the perfect balance between rough and smooth, and at that moment, a curious sensation tingles through my fingertips. It was as if a current of energy passed between us, leaving a trace of warmth and excitement pool low in my belly. "Here's the material you'll need for the semester," Professor Achille says, handing over the stack of papers. "I look forward to having you in my class, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions."