Professor's Cara (HBC)
Meet Me After Class
Authoress—Mrs De Clare
A short introduction of the main characters are as presented below:
NICOLLE WALLACE
Age: 20 years old.
Is a freshman at college, majoring English literature.
GABRIEL GUEVARA
Age: 29 years old.
Professor of Poetry.
Authoress—Mrs De Clare
Now that we're done with the mini introduction, I'd like to confess that I'm shipping Nicolle Wallace and Gabriel Guevara, they are both Spanish actor and actress, they acted as a couple in Culpa Mia movie. Anyway so—Let the story begin!
Chattering students, the professor's loud lecture, or the sounds of pages flipping and pens clicking—None could catch her attention. She was annoyed and desperate for the class to end as soon as possible.
The morning sun reflected her unruly, disheveled hair. Her hair colour was confusing. It was something between dirty blonde, and red.
She was gifted with natural wavy hair.
Her head pressed to the table, she sat stiffly in her seat—her plam squeezed her lower belly.
A soft moan escaped her lips.
Nicolle Wallace
Damn period and fvck cramps!
She cursed under her breath, biting her lips in anger and anguish.
Things couldn’t be more worse.
She hadn’t eat breakfast, the growl of her stomach declares that. Hunger and cramps are the worst.
A velvety voice whispers, gently, as if afraid to cause her any discomfort.
Nicolle jolts, seating up straight, she flippantly turns her head to her Poetry professor.
She felt a twitch in her stomach, ‘I don't wanna suffer detention today!’ She grimaced internally.
Nicolle Wallace
Professor, I'm extremely sorry! I dare not repeat it! I will never in my life, not once again, dare slack off in your class!
Nicolle says in one go, shifting her doe-like eyes to him, in search for any emotion; that'd work in her favour. But there's none.
Gabriel Guevara
Nicolle Wallace. See me in my office, after class.
Nicolle Wallace
...I did apologise, did I not?
Gabriel Guevara
See. Me. After. Class.
Nicolle Wallace
Professor, I—
Gabriel Guevara
I hate to repeat myself, Nicolle.
His voice sounded somewhat soft yet devoid of any emotion, Nicolle silently watched him as he walks back to the podium. He resumed his lectures on How Do I Love Thee By Elizabeth Barret Browning.
The students watched the commotion, silently.
Curious eyes, careful whispers gradually chimed in the classroom—until extinguished by the professor's enraged glare.
Nicolle could not concentrate, her head was swirling with negative thoughts; she was in fact, afraid to meet him, embarrassed by the thought of it.
After all...it was last night, when they kissed.
Nicolle cursed at herself for the millionth time, as she recalled last night's event. Her cheeks flushed red.
Hot lips, moist tongue, rough hands... Her eyes blankly fixed towards the professor, while she subconsciously dived into the memories of the previous night.
This stoy is made for a contest named Heartbeat. Which works under MTN community.
The prompt for this story was provided by the contest makers.
I selected prompt number 1 written by Satowa.
Thank you for reading! Don't forget to like, comment and subscribe. 👀✨ Vote and gift if you love my story. Your support inspires me to keep writing~♥
I'm No Child
She was seating by the bonfire, as the tounge of fire danced and the wood crackled in protest. The gentle breeze caressing her skin, she smiled contently to herself.
She felt like she was on a picnic tour. But she wasn’t, it was just the evergreen backyard of her Poetry professor's residence.
The fragrance of jasmine and gardenia filled her nostrils, she breathed in a mouthful of air...so refreshing, so soothing. She liked gardenia better.
She made a sketch of the gardenia tree as soon as she arrived.
She looked upon her wrist watch. It was twelve to ten, on the clock.
Her dorm would close in 48 minutes, proximately.
His residence was at thirty minutes walking distance.
She inserted her hand into her hoodie's pocket, intending to take out her phone to click one last selfie of herself, along the bonfire; to brag about with her friends tomorrow—
Gabriel Guevara
And I was wondering who could be so rackless and hopelessly brave to break in into my area, every single weekend.
The voice was painfully familiar.
She let out a faint shriek of surprise. She dared not turn around. A surge of fear overcame her soul, a shiver trespassing her spine. She kept her head low in caution for not getting recognised by him.
She flippantly dumped all her drawing notebooks and pencils into her bag, grabbing the phone and covering her head with the hoodie, she gestured to run—little did she comprehend, her professor was a arm's length away from her.
He grabbed onto her bag from behind, and she wriggled in protest; but he wasn’t planning on letting her go.
Gabriel Guevara
I know it's you, Nicolle Wallace. Stop squirming.
‘Oh, FVCK.’ She stood now, defeated and dejected. God knows what will happen now. Gabriel has a terrible anger.
They set beside each other, the bonfire reflecting Gabriel's grim expression and Nicolle's confused face—they had a noticeable distance between them; one that their positions require.
Nicolle Wallace
Why are we siting here, silently, aren’t you supposed to report me to the dean for breaking in into you property?
She blurted out to break the ice. Nicolle licked her dry lips, she does this when nervous.
Gabriel Guevara
Oh, no. It's funny!
Gabriel chuckles. Ever so rhythmically, as if reciting a lyric. Nicolle couldn’t take her eyes off him, he looked very handsome by the bonfire.
Nicolle Wallace
What's so funny?
Nicolle dramatically pouts.
Gabriel Guevara
You're funny.
He bites his lips to cease the surge of laughter.
Nicolle Wallace
You could say I'm brave. Very. To trespass your residence, professor. Praise me.
Nicolle rolls her eyes nonchalantly, sweeping back her unruly hair. She sneers mischievously.
Gabriel Guevara
I'd admit you are brave... On one condition.
Enunciating, he eyes her from head to toe—an unreadable sparkle in his eyes. Nicolle gulps, trying to comprehend his motives.
Nicolle Wallace
Condition? Wait---why would I need for you to admit that I'm brave? I know I'm brave. And I'm no child to whine for you to accept the undeniable.
Gabriel laughs, louder and longer this time. Nicolle never ceases to amaze him.
Unfairly Appetizing
Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat; the drizzle rhymes, making them both gaze towards the now cloudy sky.
The bonfire gradually begins to extinguish. Nicolle felt a few drops of waterdrop wetting her hair and eyelashes primarily. Before they do their practice on her black hoodie, she winces, utterly frustrated.
She had to go back to the dorm before it closes—but by each passing second, the raindrops become more consistent, heavy. As if mocking her bravery and accusing her of stupidity.
Nicolle blinks in confusion, as she feels his hand close around her wrist. She gazes at him to find his shirt—
Wet, clinging to his body, his hair unkempt. His long eyelashes sparking with tiny water drops on them.
‘Sexy.’ She scolded herself for such a thought. She couldn’t possibly think her professor as a guy, alluring, charming. No, he was supposed to be a guardian. A guide. He wasn’t supposed to be this sexy. But he is unfairly sexy, hot even.
She shook off such sinful thoughts, and met his eyes. His brown eyes were like two bottomless pits...she could get lost, and never be found.
Her question wasn’t answered, he literally dragged her along with him, inside his residence. Not a word of exchange, not until they reached the second floor and to his room.
On her way, Nicolle noticed that her professor's residence, in fact, had nothing extravagant or lavish about it.
It was huge. But there wasn’t anything expensive among the furniture or the decorations. It was simple. Too modest.
She liked its simplicity.
The weirdest thing she noticed was...
There wasn’t another soul in his residence, except for the professor, and herself.
Gabriel Guevara
Change into these.
He hands her a floral shirt and a jeans, keeping his eyes on the floor, he clears his throat.
Nicolle Wallace
Why do you have women's clothes at your disposal?
Nicolle blurts out, biting her tongue immediately—why the heck did she ask him about that! That's none of her business — but the question came almost automatically.
Gabriel Guevara
I just do... Just, change your clothes first.
Nicolle could not comprehend why the professor never looked up to meet her curious gaze. And she wanted to know who's clothes she was going to wear. A sudden wave of depression trespassed her entire being.
Nevertheless, she went into the bathroom and changed her clothes. The clothes fitted her perfectly.
As she entered the professor's room, her jaw dropped — The professor was completely naked if not for a small towel wrapped round his waist.
He had his back towards her, she sheepishly eyed his tightened muscles, his veiny arms, and his ultra white nape; while he seemed to be digging into his closet to find something decent to wear.
‘You are unfairly appetizing.’
Nicolle prayed that he never finds his clothes.
...For his back alone is a feast for her eyes.
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