Let Me Teach You Brother

CHAPTER 001

Nova P.O.V

As I strode through the bustling halls of Supreme East University, I held my head high, despite the sinking feeling in my stomach. Today was the day I would step into my role as a physics teacher, a dream come true. But standing here in this tight skirt—a last-minute choice—was like a cruel joke from fate. The fabric clung to my curves, accentuating the weight I’d gained from sleepless nights and relentless stress. I felt the fabric inching up my thighs, and I silently cursed myself for not choosing something more comfortable.

I am Nova Berrecloth, twenty-six years old, one of the youngest professors in this prestigious university. I had fought tooth and nail to earn this position, and today I would not let anything distract me from making a strong first impression. The uncertainty bubbled inside me, but I buried it under a facade of confidence.

As I entered my classroom, a wave of noise enveloped me, but it died down as soon as I stepped up to the front. I cleared my throat, gripping the edge of my desk, and forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look as strained as I felt.

“Good morning, everyone! I’m Nova Berrecloth, your new physics teacher. I’ll be taking over while Mrs. Matilda is on maternity leave.” I scanned the room, searching for friendly faces, but all I found were indifferent stares and whispers that fluttered around like unwelcome ghosts.

“Yeah, good morning, Miss Sexy Nova!” A guy with a smug grin lounged in the back, chewing gum like it was his personal statement. His hoodie stretched across broad shoulders, giving him a bulk that screamed ‘gym rat.’

I gulped, suppressing a flare of irritation. “Thank you, Mr...?” I tried to keep my tone even.

“Horton,” he shot back, his playful smile infuriatingly casual.

The room erupted in a chorus of snickers, and I felt my cheeks heat up. I had expected to be respected as an authority figure, but this was quickly spiraling out of control.

“Pleasure to receive your compliments, but chewing in class isn’t appropriate,” I said, trying to regain control. Yes! That was a firm comeback.

“Mrs. Nova Berrecloth, we didn’t have to deal with that from Mrs. Matilda,” a girl in a skin-tight leather skirt chimed in, high-fiving her equally brazen friend.

I smiled, forcing myself to remain composed despite the tension building like a storm cloud overhead. “You’re right, but I’m not Mrs. Matilda. If everyone could please open their textbooks to page forty-five, we can start our discussion.”

As I turned to write on the whiteboard, I felt the heat of their stares on my back. My legs trembled slightly, but I willed myself to stand tall. I picked up a black marker and began to write the title: “Atomic Physics.”

Suddenly, a flash illuminated the room, and I turned to see Horton smirking, his phone aimed at me like a weapon. My heart raced, and I instinctively tugged my skirt down, trying to cover up the embarrassment that clawed at my confidence.

“Everyone,” I said, my voice rising above the silence, masking my anger with a practiced calm. “That’s not appropriate. Please put your phones away.”

“Whoa, she’s turning red now!” A blonde girl laughed, adding to my discomfort.

I marched toward Horton, my heels clicking against the floor, each step echoing my determination. “Give me your phone, now.” My tone left no room for negotiation.

Horton raised an eyebrow, still chewing his gum. He casually tossed the gum aside and handed over his phone, but not without that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

“You can’t have it back until I say so,” I declared, unlocking the phone to delete the picture he had taken. But of course, there was a password.

“Give me the password,” I demanded, crossing my arms.

“f**k me hard, baby,” he said, his tone utterly serious, yet tinged with the sarcasm that made my blood boil.

The room erupted with laughter, and I felt my face burn hotter than a supernova.

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback, disbelief washing over me.

“I said, f**k me hard, baby,” he repeated, each word laced with a smug confidence that made my insides churn. “Oh, Don't forget to add a hashtag and six.”

“Enough! This is unacceptable. You’re going to the principal’s office.” I spun on my heel, ready to regain control of my class.

“Mrs. Nova,” a voice called from my left, interrupting my fury. It was a girl with short hair, her eyes wide. “Brandon was just trying to say his password.”

Laughter erupted again, this time from the group huddled in the back. I felt trapped in a comedy show I didn’t want to be part of.

Ignoring the chaos, I opened Horton’s phone, scrolling through his images only to find a series of selfies. No evidence of my mortification. Maybe he hadn’t taken a picture after all, but that didn’t erase the feeling of being belittled.

“Take your antics to the office. Dean will deal with you,” I commanded, turning away to regain my composure.

At that moment, the classroom door creaked open, and a new figure stepped inside. He strolled in with a swagger that instantly drew attention. He had tousled hair that somehow looked effortlessly cool and a tattoo snaking up his neck, making him stand out among the sea of typical college students.

Silence fell like a thick blanket, and I could feel the weight of their stares shift toward him. “Am I late? Just woke up; hangover got me,” he said, his voice low and casual, almost like he didn’t care about the disruption he caused.

“And who are you?” I asked, trying to inject authority into my tone, but it wavered as I took in his presence. He radiated an undeniable charm, and despite my annoyance, I found myself captivated.

“Name’s Rowan Moscovan,” he replied, flashing a lazy grin that made my heart skip a beat. The contrast between his laid-back demeanor and my stressed-out composure felt like an unbalanced scale.