Sweet and Spicy

chapter two

Professor Malory's POV

I straddled my motorbike, feeling the familiar rumble beneath me as I started the engine. The morning sun cast a warm glow over the campus, and I reveled in the freedom that came with riding. At 20 years old, I was used to the strange looks I got from my students and colleagues. Being a college professor at such a young age wasn't exactly common, but I had always been a bit of a prodigy.

As I rode to school, the wind whipping through my hair, I felt alive. The campus was already bustling with students, and I expertly navigated the crowded parking lot. I found a spot near the engineering building and killed the engine.

As I stepped off the bike, a group of ogling guys approached me. I smiled sweetly at them, playing the part of the approachable professor. But inside, I was seething. I hated the way they looked at me, like I was some kind of prize to be won.

"Hey, Professor Malory," one of them said, trying to sound suave. "What's a beautiful woman like you doing teaching a bunch of rowdy college kids?"

I laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "Just trying to educate you all, one tedious lecture at a time."

The guy looked taken aback, but I just smiled and patted him on the arm. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll learn something eventually."

I pushed past them, making my way to my first class of the day. As I walked into the classroom, I was greeted by a sea of expectant faces. I began to teach, trying to explain complex engineering programming concepts to my students.

The classroom was warm, and the fluorescent lights hummed overhead. I wrote on the blackboard, my chalk screeching as I tried to illustrate a particularly difficult concept. My students looked on, some of them taking notes, others staring blankly into space.

Just as I was getting into the lesson, a guy walked in late, whistling at me as he caught my eye. I felt a surge of annoyance, but I kept my cool.

"Can I help you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The guy looked taken aback, but he stumbled out an answer. "Uh, sorry Professor Malory. I'm just... uh... trying to get your attention."

I smiled sweetly at him. "I think you've got it. Now, can you please tell me your registration number and name?"

The guy looked nervous, but he told me his registration number and name. I nodded, making a mental note.

"Now, can you tell me what you think power is?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

The guy thought for a moment before answering. "Uh, power is like... being able to bench press 300 pounds!"

I laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "No, power is having the ability to walk you out of this classroom, and fail you for the entire semester."

The guy looked like he had been punched in the gut. He quickly sat down, looking chastened.

The rest of the class continued without incident, but I could feel the tension in the air. As soon as the class was over, I dismissed my students and quickly gathered my things.

As I walked out of the classroom, I was swarmed by a group of guys who were trying to get my attention. I hated it, hated the way they looked at me like I was some kind of prize to be won.

I quickly walked away, trying to lose them in the crowd. I turned a corner and pushed open a random door, hoping to find a quiet spot to collect my thoughts.

But instead, I found myself in a breathtaking art room. The walls were lined with canvases, and the air was thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

And then, I saw him.

He was lying on a bench by the window, his face bathed in a warm, golden light. His features were so perfect that they looked almost... unreal. His hair was a wild tangle of black locks, and his skin was a warm, golden brown.

As I drew closer, I noticed a small scar on his neck. It was tiny, but it added a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise perfect features.

I felt a sudden urge to draw him, to capture the beauty and perfection of his features on paper. I rummaged through my bag, searching for a pencil and paper.

And then, I began to draw.

My pencil moved quickly and surely, capturing the lines and curves of his face. I drew his eyes, his nose, his lips. I drew the scar on his neck, and the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck.

As I drew, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. It was as if the world had melted away, leaving only me and my subject.

I loved drawing, loved the way it made me feel. I had discovered my passion for art after following an online sensation known only as "HD". His artwork had inspired me, had made me want to create something beautiful.

As I finished my drawing, I signed my name with a flourish. "From Angel to a God," I wrote, smiling to myself.

And then, I walked away, leaving my drawing behind. I felt a sense of satisfaction, of peace. I had created something beautiful, something that would stay with me forever.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. I wanted to stay in that art room, to keep drawing and creating. But I knew I had to leave, had to get back to my normal routine.

I made my way back to my office, my mind still reeling from the encounter with the mysterious stranger. Who was he? What was he doing in the art room?

As I sat down at my desk, I couldn't help but feel a sense of restlessness. I wanted to know more about the stranger, wanted to see him again.

But for now, I had to focus on my work. I had papers to grade, lessons to plan. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

Just as I was starting to get settled, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," I called out.

It was one of my colleagues, a friendly woman named Dr. Lee. "Hey, Malory, how's it going?" she asked, smiling.

I smiled back, trying to appear cheerful. "It's going well, thanks. Just trying to get some work done."

Dr. Lee nodded sympathetically. "I know the feeling. But I have to say, you look a bit... distracted. Everything okay?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Did I tell her about the stranger in the art room? Or did I keep it to myself?

For now, I decided to keep it to myself. "I'm fine, thanks," I said, smiling. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

Dr. Lee nodded, looking concerned. "Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Okay?"

I nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude towards her. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

As Dr. Lee left, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Who was the stranger in the art room? And why did I feel so drawn to him?