Sweet and Spicy

chapter four

Professor Malory's POV

I sat in my office, sipping my coffee and scrolling through social media. It had been an exciting afternoon, to say the least. First, I'd had a run-in with one of my students, and then I'd met a beautiful, god-like human in the art studio. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

As I scrolled through my feeds, I stumbled upon a familiar face - HD, the mysterious artist who had captured my heart. I smiled, watching as he posted a new video, his deep voice and quirky attitude making me feel all warm inside.

But then, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat. He was showing a picture - the same picture I had drawn of the beautiful human I'd met in the art studio. How did he get it?

And then, I noticed something else - a scar on his neck. It was the same scar I had drawn on the human in the art studio.

"f**k," I whispered to myself, my mind racing. "It's HD. I met HD."

Doctor Lee, my colleague, looked at me with concern. "Malory, what's going on?"

I shook my head, trying to compose myself. "Nothing, just... nothing."

I knew I had to keep my obsession with HD a secret. No one could find out about my interaction with the human, or my fascination with the mysterious artist.

As I sat there, trying to process my thoughts, I felt my mind spinning out of control. Who was HD, really? Was he a teacher, a student? What was going on?

Suddenly, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. The room began to spin, and I felt myself falling.

Everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying on a couch in the nurse's office. The nurse was smiling down at me, concern etched on her face.

"Professor Malory, are you okay? You fainted in your office."

I sat up slowly, trying to remember what had happened. HD, the human, the artwork... it was all still swirling in my mind.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound calm. "Just a little... overwhelmed."

The nurse nodded, handing me a glass of water. "Take your time, Professor. You can go back to your office when you're feeling better."

I nodded, taking a sip of the water. But as I sat there, I couldn't shake off the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even imagine.

As I sat in the nurse's office, I couldn't help but think about HD and the mysterious human I had met. Who were they, really? And what was the connection between them?

I took another sip of water, trying to calm my racing thoughts. But my mind kept wandering back to the artwork, and the way HD had seemed to come to life in front of me.

Suddenly, I heard the nurse's voice, breaking into my thoughts. "Professor Malory, I think you're feeling better now. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and go home?"

I nodded, standing up slowly. "Yes, that's a good idea. Thank you."

As I walked into my apartment, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I had been looking forward to unwinding after the chaotic day. I thought about taking my motorcycle out for a spin, feeling the wind in my hair and the rush of adrenaline as I sped down the highway.

But as I entered my living room, my eyes fell on a piece of paper on the coffee table. I approached it cautiously, my heart sinking as I read the message:

"I know who you are, Professor Malory."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Who could have written this? And how did they know my name?

I was still trying to process the message when my phone buzzed, making me scream in shock. I hesitated for a moment before picking up.

"Hello?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Ocean Malory, what's wrong with you? That's no way to talk to your mother," my mother's voice said on the other end of the line.

I felt a wave of disdain wash over me. "What do you want, Mother?" I spat, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"We're having a meeting with the Davis family tonight, and I want you to be there. You need to meet their son," my mother said, her voice dripping with expectation.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't have time for this."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ocean. You'll be there. It's not a request," my mother said, her voice firm.

I ended the call, feeling a surge of anger. I lay back on my bed, letting the events of the day settle in. After a while, I got up, grabbed my bag and motorcycle keys, and walked out the door.

I was headed to my parents' house, but I wasn't going to let them get the better of me. I was going to face whatever they had planned for me, on my own terms.

As I stepped out of my motorcycle and onto the grounds of my childhood home, a wave of memories washed over me. The imposing gate, the sprawling mansion, the perfectly manicured lawn – it all seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. I hadn't set foot in this place in five years, and the feeling of anger and resentment that had driven me away still lingered.

I took a deep breath and walked through the gate, the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet echoing through the silence. As I approached the front door, it swung open, and my mother rushed out, a bright smile plastered on her face.

"Ocean, darling, you're late! The Davis family will be here any minute. You need to get ready, now!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with urgency.

Before I could even respond, I was swept up by a flurry of maids and butlers, who hustled me into my old bedroom. I barely had time to glance around at the familiar walls, the old furniture, before I was whisked away to the dresser.

A flurry of activity ensued, as the maids and butlers worked to transform me into the perfect daughter. They slipped me into a short blue dress that accentuated my eyes and hair, paired me with a set of high heels, and expertly applied my makeup.

As they finished up, my parents appeared in the doorway, their faces fixed with the same fake smiles they'd always worn.

"Ocean, darling, you look stunning," my mother cooed, as my father nodded in agreement.

I forced a smile onto my face, feeling like a doll being paraded out for inspection. As we made our way downstairs, I could hear the sound of voices, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

We entered the dining room, where the Davis family was already seated. Mr. Davis, a portly man with a booming voice, stood up, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

"Ah, Ocean, you're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity.

I recoiled inwardly, forcing a smile onto my face as I murmured a thank you. As Mr. Davis introduced his son, a pampered-looking young man with a smirk on his face, I felt a surge of disdain.

Boys like this were the worst – entitled, arrogant, and completely unaware of the world beyond their privileged bubble.

As the evening wore on, I found myself zoning out, my mind wandering back to the mysterious message, the artwork, and the enigmatic HD.

And then, Mr. Davis mentioned his second son, Hunter Davis. The name sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a sudden jolt of curiosity.

Who was Hunter Davis? And why did his name seem to resonate so deeply within me?