f*****g THE RUDENESS OFF PROF RICHARD HALE 1
The heavy wooden door to Professor Richard Hale’s office slammed shut behind me with a loud click. I was pissed. At twenty-one, I was the campus golden boy, handsome star quarterback with a chiseled jaw, messy dark hair that fell just right, piercing green eyes, and a body sculpted from endless workouts. Girls dropped their panties for me with a smile. Professors usually bent over backward. Not this asshole.
Professor Richard Hale, mid-forties, strict as f**k, sat behind his cluttered desk in a crisp white button-down that hugged his lean, fit frame. Salt-and-pepper hair perfectly styled, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his sharp nose, and that perpetual condescending scowl on his handsome face. He was hot in that untouchable professor way—broa
