The Professor Who Shouldn't Want Me

Too Much for One Class

POV: Isadora

I slammed on my horn, frustrated at the car in front of me. The light was green, and he was just sitting there like a total moron. Usually, I don’t get this worked up in traffic, but I was in a terrible mood that morning, the whole week had been a total drag. I was already buried under a mountain of schoolwork, and on top of that, I had to help my sister organize her anniversary party.

And when I say "help," I actually mean "suck up to her." Because that was my job: to flatter her, tell her she looked gorgeous and perfect, tell her the decorations were coming along gorgeous and perfect, and that her marriage was gorgeous and perfect. Because God forbid anyone suggest Isabella Bennett was anything less than flawless. I was used to that part, though; what really pissed me off was losing my entire week to it. It’s not like Isabella didn’t already have a literal squad of "yes-men" ready to hype her up 24/7, so why did she need me too?

I pulled into a spot in front of campus and hopped out. The silver lining was that it was Friday and I only had two morning classes. The downside? One of them was Professor Anderson’s. I sighed just thinking about it. It had been two weeks since I turned in that half-assed paper, and nothing had changed, his classes were still pure torture. Not just because of his strict, intimidating teaching style, but because I always ended up looking like a complete i***t around him. Okay, Isadora, I get it, you think he’s hot as hell. But can you please stop acting like a thirsty fifteen-year-old?

When I walked into the room, Ryan was already there talking to Brenda. I took my usual seat, and at 8:00 a.m. sharp, Professor Anderson walked in. He looked a little stressed, more serious than usual, clutching a cup of coffee. When he looked out at the class, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Looks like someone didn't sleep well.

"Good morning.", he greeted the class. "Today, we’re going to continue our discussion on the article I assigned."

"For the last two sessions, I handled the lecture and answered your questions. Today, I want to hear from you. I’ll be asking each of you questions related to the text, and you’ll be graded on your responses."

Crap! Crap! Crap! I hadn't read that stupid article. I’d been so swamped with my other classes and my sister that it completely slipped my mind. How was I supposed to know he’d spring an oral exam on us? I thought it was just "recommended reading."

"Is this a pop quiz?", Ryan asked, sounding totally over it. If I hadn't read the article, he definitely hadn't either.

"You can call it that if you like.", he shrugged. "And since you’ve decided to speak up, Mr. Fletcher, why don't we start with you?", I felt Ryan cringe beside me. He knew he was about to get roasted; he should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

"Is it possible to justify the penal system using a single theory?", he asked, locking eyes with him.

"Uh... no."

"And why not?"

"Uh... because... it's complex. It involves, like, multiple theories."

"Could you name one of those theories?"

"Well... I..."

"That’s enough.", he cut him off. "Mr. Collins, same question.", he turned to another student who, unlike Ryan, gave a flawless answer, effectively putting the finishing touch on Ryan's humiliation.

The class continued like a game of Russian Roulette. No one knew who was next or what the question would be. My heart had been racing since the start of class. I tried in vain to remember the last few lectures, but my brain had checked out, nothing was coming to me.

"Ms. Bennett.", I froze. I looked up to find him staring at me, serious and thoughtful, like he was crafting a question just for me.

"Should individual culpability be the primary criterion for determining a sentence?"

What? Dammit! Think, Isadora, think. Stop looking like a fool in front of him.

"Yes, I mean, no!", he knit his brows.

"Yes or no?", he asked impatiently.

"No, it’s not the primary criterion."

"Okay. Why?"

"Because... there are other factors that need to be considered before sentencing... that are just as important."

I didn't even know what I was saying; I was totaly winging it. For a split second, I actually thought I might pull it off, until he crossed his arms and gave me a hard look. Yeah, he knew I was full of it. Something told me I should shut up before he completely lost his patience.

"Ms. Bennett, what was the author's name?"

"Uh... I don't remember."

"You don't remember, or you don't know?", I swallowed hard. "Answer me!", he pressured.

For Christ's sake, was I on trial or something?

"I don't know.", I finally blurted out.

"And why don't you know?"

He wouldn't give me a second to breathe. I’d barely finish an answer before he’d hit me with another.

"Come on, Ms. Bennett. Surely you can manage to answer that.", he taunted. That one stung.

He was basically rubbing it in my face that I couldn't answer a single thing. God, I had never felt so stupid in my life.

"I... I didn't read the article.", I admitted, swallowing my pride. He didn't look surprised.

"You don't say.", was all he said before turning back to the class. "That’s all for today. Oh, and your grades for the last assignment are posted."

As if on cue, everyone pulled out their phones to check their grades. I did the same, but I regretted it instantly.

An F? No, that was impossible. I’d never gotten an F in my life. It had to be a mistake; he must have messed up. Crap, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to him right now, but my paper was good, there was no way I deserved that grade. He definitely screwed up. I walked up to him as he was packing his things.

"Excuse me, Professor."

He turned to me with that same cold stare. But no, I wasn't going to let him intimidate me this time. This was his mistake, and he was going to fix it.

"I think there’s a problem with my grade.", I said, trying to match his serious tone.

"A problem?", he asked skeptically. I handed him my phone.

"No, it’s correct.", he replied. I stared at him in shock.

"You seem surprised by your grade, Ms. Bennett.", he taunted again, which really set me off.

"Actually, I am.", I snapped. By now, the whole room was watching us. "Could you explain why I got this grade?"

He smirked. It was literally the first time I’d seen him smile, but it wasn't a friendly one.

"I gave you an F, Ms. Bennett, because you didn't write this paper.", he stepped closer. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you used AI?", he asked with pure disdain. I turned ice-cold.

Crap! I was busted. But how? The paper was good, it wasn't that obvious, was it? No way. Any other professor wouldn't have even noticed. He was just a psycho, that's why he caught it.

"Let me give you some advice.", he said, his blue eyes colder than ever. "Don't try to play me. You'll never win."

He held my gaze for exactly two seconds before turning away. I only realized I’d been holding my breath when he finally looked away. I didn't say another word. I’d been exposed and humiliated twice in one hour, it was too much for one class. I just hung my head and went back to my seat. Trying to fool him was definitely a bad move.