Rebecca’s POV
His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment I worried I’d overstepped. Then a genuine laugh escaped him, transforming his austere features into something much more approachable.
“Touché,” he conceded, his eyes never leaving mine. I had the disconcerting feeling he was memorizing my features.
I took a step back, still mortified about his coat but increasingly aware of his magnetic presence. “Please, let me take it and have it cleaned properly. It’s my responsibility.”
He studied me for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you asking me for contact information?”
“Yes,” I nodded firmly, my fingers fidgeting with the tissue packet. Td need to know where to return it once it’s
cleaned.”
A slow, somewhat mischievous smile spread across his face. That’s the most creative pickup line I’ve heard in a while. Usually people just ask to borrow my phone or if I know where the nearest coffee shop is.”
“I’m not–1 just want to be responsible! My voice rose slightly, betraying my flustered state.
He chuckled, still watching me with that amused expression as he reached into his inner pocket and extracted a business card. “Room 104 is down this corridor, turn right at the arches, and you’ll see it immediately on your left.” He handed me the card, his fingers brushing against mine briefly. The contact sent a jolt through me that I couldn’t explain. “As for the coat… I look forward to seeing how responsible you can be.”
I accepted the card, glancing down at it briefly before stuffing it into my pocket. ‘Thank you. I really am sorry about
this.”
He nodded, adjusting his coat slightly. “You should hurry. It’s nearly nine.”
With a final apologetic smile, I turned and followed his directions, moving at a near jog. The corridor opened into an arched passage, and just as he’d said, Room 104 was visible on the left. I slowed my pace, taking a deep breath to compose myself before entering.
Just as I reached for the door handle, I remembered the business card in my pocket. Curious about who I’d just drenched, I pulled it out and read:
[Professor Adrian Lane
Department of Design Arts
City Arts Academy]
My stomach dropped violently. I’d just argued with my professor. My professor whose expensive coat I’d ruined
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minutes before his class.
Still processing this horrifying realization, I pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked loudly. Every head turned toward me. I froze, scanning the room quickly for an empty seat, hoping to slip in unnoticed. My legs felt wooden, unwilling to move.
“Ah, our final student has arrived,” came a familiar voice from the front of the room.
I looked up to see the man from the corridor–Professor Lane–walking toward the lectern, his damp coat now removed and draped over his arm. His eyes found mine immediately, a spark of recognition and amusement clearly visible. I felt pinned by his gaze, unable to look away despite the heat spreading across my face.
“Welcome, especially to our ‘responsible‘ student,” he said, his lips quirking upward as several students chuckled, clearly sensing some inside joke they weren’t privy to.
I stood rooted to the spot, mortification washing over me in waves. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor tiles, to be anywhere but here. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my lower back.
“I… I can explain,” I managed to stammer, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
Professor Lane waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes remained locked on mine. “No need. Please, take a seat. Today’s first lesson: sometimes accidents are the best source of creative inspiration.”
A few more chuckles rippled through the classroom as I made my way to an empty seat in the back corner, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I could feel curious glances from my classmates following me, their whispers barely audible. I slid into the chair, wishing I could make myself invisible as I felt curious glances from my classmates.
For the next hour and a half, I tried to focus on Professor Lane’s introduction to the course and his overview of design fundamentals. Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but notice he was an engaging lecturer, moving with natural confidence through complex concepts, occasionally sketching quick examples on the whiteboard with surprising skill. His hands moved with precise, controlled energy that was somehow mesmerizing.
Every now and then, his gaze would find mine, that same mysterious smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Each time, my breath would catch, and I would quickly look down at my notebook, pretending to be completely absorbed in taking notes. My pen pressed too hard against the paper, nearly tearing it in places.
When the class finally ended, I deliberately took my time gathering my things, waiting for the room to empty. My heart was still racing, stomach in knots. I couldn’t face the humiliation of walking out with everyone else, knowing they were probably wondering about the “responsible student” comment.
Professor Lane remained at the front, organizing his papers and occasionally glancing in my direction. As the last student left, I took a deep breath and approached the lectern, my legs feeling surprisingly steady despite my inner
turmoil.
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12:15 Mon, Sep 22
Chapter 96
“Professor Lane, I began, my voice quieter than intended but not wavering. “About this morning–I truly am sorry about your coat.”
He set down his papers and turned to face me fully. The full force of his attention made me want to step back, but I held my ground. “Ms. Brown, correct?”
I nodded, surprised he’d remembered my name from the roster.
“I wasn’t just being polite earlier. I genuinely appreciate directness,” he said, leaning against the edge of the lectern. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes studied my face. “Most students are too intimidated to speak their minds, too afraid of offending authority. But art requires courage and authenticity.”
His words cased some of my tension. “That’s still no excuse for ruining your coat. I’d like to make it right.”
Professor Lane studied me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, and I caught myself mimicking the movement without meaning to. “You really are serious about taking responsibility for it, aren’t you?”
“I said I would, so yes,” I replied firmly, lifting my chin slightly.
His lips curved into that now–familiar smile. “Ms. Brown, you are quite… unexpected.”
As he said this, I caught a subtle scent in the air–barely perceptible, but distinctly reminiscent of the wolf–like musk I’d come to associate with werewolves. My pulse quickened immediately, a rush of adrenaline flooding my system. I found myself unconsciously taking a small step back, suddenly alert. The room seemed to shrink, the air between us charged with something beyond normal tension. Was it just my imagination, or was there something more to Professor Lane than what appeared on the surface?
He seemed to notice my reaction, his head tilting slightly as he observed me with increased interest. “Is something wrong?” His voice had lowered, becoming softer but somehow more intrusive.
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