Sinclair

Why was the man entering the classroom had some kind of a halo following him? Was it a trick of the light?

Sinclair heard the tittering girls to her right sigh. Disgusting. She blinked again then averted her gaze. She was not falling for this shit.

Was he their literature professor? Yeah. From his confident posture, he must be. It was surprising though, he looked too young to be lording over a
group of a hormonal mix of young ladies and men. All looking at him like he was the most expensive of chocolates.

Except her.

But...she guessed looking at the man was acceptable. She shrugged.
He was beautiful. He was in a Cavalli gray suit or maybe an Armani.

Doesn't matter. He will look gorgeous in anything. And those glasses?

Why does he look stylish on it when her own pair made her look like a nerdy Mongoloid?

He was tall. She was expecting him to look very English but he was not. He was mixed. And his eyes, the pair as dark as the night. Chiseled jaw, flawless skin, and astounding physique. His muscles rippled under his suit when he walks.

Sinclair again looked away. She was not a giddy teenager and she was not interested.

The beautiful man started to talk. And she gave her attention to what he was saying. By reading his lips, because he was a bit far and he was not using a microphone, she was able to get the gist of what he was saying. Just the usual shit on the first day.

So, it's official. He was their lit professor for three months. Him? The God of handsomeness. Uni girls will be all over him in no time. But not her. Never her.

Busy with her thoughts, she was heedless of the tittering of the girls beside her until she noticed the professor moving towards them. Uh oh. Happy day to the bitches.

Shit! She couldn't blame them. He was climbing the steps and his lean muscles beneath his clothes were enticing.

The damning part was, he was walking toward her. Why? Dumbfounded, she tilted her head up and looked at his lips to read him.

He was looking at and addressing her directly. Sinclair gulped.

She must be drooling. No! Panic mode she was and she knew she was blushing furiously.

He was still saying something because she was in shock, she couldn't make out what he was saying. -Tilt to your left, Sin.-

"She can't hear you, professor, she's deaf and a simpleton." One of the bitches snickered with her gang.

She blushed deeply in embarrassment. Great! The first time her girly self had a crush and she already felt like running away from him. -Admitting it, Sin?-

He turned his attention sharply to Sandy. That's the girl's name. -I think.-
Could the floor just swallow her whole?

"I beg your pardon, miss? I don't tolerate rudeness in my class. If you can't be civil, step out." She shivered from his deep angry voice. He reprimanded softly but the threat was real. It registered with the way his body stiffened and with the way his gaze sharpened.

The room grew silent once more.

He turned his attention back to her. She gulped.

"Are you ok, miss..." his eyes softened.

"Yes...um... Professor." She squeaked. Why couldn't she breathe?

"Can I request you to sit in front? Please...Ms," His perfect eyebrow rose in a question.

Oh, her name. He wanted to know her name. "I'm Sinclair Yuan, sir."

He smiled slightly. Jesus! He shouldn't do that.

"Come, sit in front, Ms. Yuan." The professor waited for her patiently to rise. Being a true gentleman, he held out his hand to help her up.

No. Nope. Not happening.

But she found herself getting up as he requested. And her cold hand was warmed by his.

-Don't read too much into it. He sympathized with you because you are deaf and petite and pasty.-

Sinclair glanced at the girls and they stared back in disbelief. They couldn't believe this was happening. Neither could she.

Escorting her to a seat right on the front row on a chair in front of his desk, he cleared his throat after he made sure she was comfortably settled.

Sinclair blushed harder.

"Good morning. This is advanced literature, where we analyzed, evaluate, scrutinized every world-famous sonnet, poem, script, text, and writings, and so forth. Nope, we are not going to do role-playing. We are too old for that. And we are not in high school anymore." He began. His diction was precise and his posture was commanding but relaxed.

Everyone sighed in relief.

She had clearly heard the amusement in the professor's voice.

"What we are going to do is master them by heart, so when your pupils or students ask about it. You will know what to answer. And most importantly, you will know how to teach it."

Feeling at ease despite the incident with the bitches, her lips curve in a smile. She loved kids. That's why she was here.

"But before that. I want to introduce myself."

He turned to walk towards the whiteboards. Nice butt. Sinclair!

Nicholas Stafford VI, Ph.D. in Education. Major in World Literature and Natural Science.

His name alone spoke of leadership and aristocracy.

When he faced them once more, his eyes bored into hers.

He walked to stand directly before her. Shit! Not again. "Ms. Yuan, what is your favorite poem?"

Why her? She hated being in the spotlight.

"I...ah...Song To Celia, sir. But...um... I have several." Damn. He smiled patiently at her stuttering. See, he pities you.

"Ah. By Ben Jonson. Care to share a verse?" Why was he doing this to her? -Do what? He is your professor. That's what they do. Teach and discuss.-

He was waiting patiently for her answer.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. -Don't make me stammer, please.-

"Drink to me only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine.
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine." The words were almost whispered.

Professor Stafford blinded her with his white teeth at her breathy words. His eyes gleamed.

Her heart skipped a beat. No! Not happening. She was too old to have a crush. Not him. Not ever.

His tempting gaze left her. She gulped a breath.

"And that is the first poem we are going to study. I will give you fifteen minutes to research it then we begin our discussion."

Thank God they had a diversion for the day. -Just for the day.-

She'd have to be in his presence five days a week for three months.

Just great. Great. -Note the sarcasm.-

-Is it too late to shift class?-

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