Falling for my Dad’s Professor Best friend

AVA’S POV I was just lying there on my stomach, legs kicking in the air, scrolling through my phone and then it did. My email app notification rung. I froze. The screen lit up: “Your semester results are now available.” I sat up so fast I dropped the phone. It bounced off the bed and landed face down on the floor. “No, no, no,” I said, already panicking before I even picked it up. My hand was shaking, legit shaking, like I just drank three energy drinks back to back. I was scared because I knew I had performed poorly in my last exam. I tapped the screen, my face ID blinked. My student portal opened like a cursed door in a horror movie. Semester GPA: 1.6 I covered my mouth. My throat made a sound but I don’t know what it was. A laugh? A sob? I didn’t even know how it got this bad. I thought I did okay on the last psych paper. Not amazing, but not failing. But this, this wasn’t just bad. This was end it all bad. Before I could even process any of my emotions, I heard it. “Ava!” It was my dad. His voice, sharp and echoing from downstairs. He knew. Somehow, he already knew. I forgot my mail is linked to his computer in his study. “Ava Sinclair! Get down here!” I groaned as I stood up from my bed and dragged my feet all the way down the stairs. His study door was already open, the lights were on, bright and cold, and he was standing behind his desk. He didn’t look at me at first. Just stared at his computer screen, scanning it like he was trying to find a version of it that wasn’t real. I stood at the door, arms crossed over my chest. “Dad..” “How could you?” His voice cut straight through mine. I blinked. “I…what?” “How could you bring me a result like this?” he said, turning his computer to face me like it was proof of some crime. “After everything we’ve done for you. After all the money, the tutoring, the opportunities.” “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, because that’s all I could say. “I know I messed up. I just…I’ll do better. I swear.” “Do better?” he repeated, shaking his head like it was the worst joke he’d ever heard. “Ava, this is not a joke. You are a disgrace to this family.” That word hit harder than I expected. Disgrace. Like I was a stain. I swallowed my saliva, my throat was burning now. “Dad, please. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ve just been overwhelmed, and school’s been…” “I’ve had enough,” he snapped, cutting me off again. His voice rose just slightlyz “I’ve given you chances. Over and over. And look where that’s gotten us.” He looked down at his computer one last time, then shut it down like it disgusted him. “I know what I’m going to do,” he said. I stared at him. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?” He exhaled through his nose, straightening his jacket like this was a decision he’d been building up to. “It’s high time you went to New York,” he said. “You’ll be staying with Julian Grant.” I blinked again, this time harder. “Wait, what? Julian? As in your Julian? The guy who used to come over for poker nights?” “He’s not just Julian,” my dad snapped. “He’s a professor of literature at Yale. Respected. Disciplined. Intelligent. Everything you are not acting like.” I didn’t know what to say to that. My mouth opened, then closed. Julian Grant? That serious guy with the deep voice and expensive shoes? “You’ll spend your summer under his roof,” my dad continued. “And maybe, just maybe, you’ll come back with something useful in your head.” I didn’t say anything right away. It sounded like a punishment dressed up in formality. I hadn’t even thought about him in years. Honestly, I barely remembered what he looked like. But then again… I kind of did. He used to come over when I was really little. Like nine, maybe ten. I’d be in pajamas running around the house while my dad and his friends played poker in the living room and made jokes I didn’t understand. Julian was always the quiet one. The one who didn’t talk much but somehow still felt the most important. I remember hiding behind the kitchen wall just to peek at him when I thought he wasn’t looking. I remember thinking he was handsome. Which felt weird now. Saying it in my head, even. But it’s true. I had a tiny little crush on him back then. The kind of silly, safe crush little girls get on older men they know they’ll never see outside the living room. It faded, obviously. I mean, I haven’t seen the guy in more than a decade. For all I know, he’s bald now. Or fat. Or both. Still… The idea of staying with him alone made something in my stomach twist. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or curiosity. Or both. “Dad, please,” I finally said, my voice cracking before I could fix it. “Can we just talk about this? I said I’m sorry. I will do better.” He didn’t even look at me anymore. He was already sitting down behind his desk, flipping open his planner like I was dismissed. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “My mind’s made up. Go pack your bags. You’re leaving first thing in the morning.” I just stood there for a second, blinking like maybe I heard him wrong. “Tomorrow?” “Yes. I’ve already spoken to Julian. He’ll be expecting you.” My hands balled into fists without me meaning to. “So that’s it? You screw me over without even asking what I want?” He looked up at me now, his eyes tired but cold. “No, Ava. You screwed yourself over. And this is me cleaning up your mess for the last time.” I didn’t say another word. I just turned around, stormed out, and stomped my way back up the stairs. The second I slammed my door shut, I threw myself face-first onto my bed and let out a scream into my pillow. This was my summer. My last bit of freedom and now what? Now I had to go live with some old man professor I hadn’t seen since I was in pigtails. “I hate my life,” I grunted as I began to take out my clothes from my closet. ^^^ ^^^ ^^^ The next morning came too fast. I barely slept. Just rolled around in bed with puffy eyes. My suitcase sat by the door like it was mocking me. Packed and zipped and ready to ruin my life. Dad didn’t say much when I came downstairs. Just grabbed the handle, walked out to the truck, and started loading my things into the back like this was any other road trip. It wasn’t. I didn’t argue this time. What was the point? He had made up his mind already. The ride to the airport was mostly silent except for the radio and the sound of the air conditioning humming too loud. I stared out the window the whole time, trying not to cry, because if I started, I wasn’t sure I’d stop. When we pulled up to Departures, Dad parked but didn’t get out right away. He just looked straight ahead for a minute. Then he said, “I know you hate me right now.” I didn’t answer. “But I’m doing this because I believe you can be more than this. You’re smart, Ava. You just don’t want to be.” I still didn’t say anything. He turned to me, softer this time. “Julian’s a good man. Maybe the only person I trust to knock some sense into you. Be respectful. Try to learn something. And… call me.” I nodded, barely. Then I got out, grabbed my bag, and walked through the sliding glass doors like I was walking into exile. ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ A few hours and one cramped flight later, I touched down in New York. The city felt big even from the airport windows. Loud, sharp, and alive in a way that made me feel smaller than I already did. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, opened my texts, and scrolled to the number Dad gave me. I texted Mr Julian immediately. Ava: “Hey, I just landed. I’m outside near baggage claim.” Me, again (30 seconds later): “Brown suitcase. Black hoodie. Kinda lost.” The reply came fast. Julian: “I can see you. Directly at the back of you.” I glanced up, and looked behind me then frowned but nothing. Nope. Just businessmen. A couple families. An old lady with a dog in a stroller. Ava: “No you can’t. I don’t see you.” Then right behind me deep voice. Not just deep. Baritone, smooth like velvet but serious enough to make my skin tingle. “Over here.” I turned. And just stopped. There, standing a few feet away, was a man, tall broad shoulders. Black jacket perfectly fitted. His eyes were piercing like he saw right through me and his presence commanded the space like he owned it. He smiled, just a little. “It’s me,” he said. “Julian. Your father’s best friend.” My mouth went dry. That was Julian Grant? I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. The man my father sent me to stay with was not old nor ugly . He was dangerously handsome!!