Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
At first, I think I really am going insane and imagining him because when I look, the spot he was just in is empty. But then I hear his voice again, like a damn siren song calling to me, and find him chatting to a student closer to the door. I can only catch a few words from my position, something about an extension for an assignment?
“Flat white for Emma?”
With a quick smile and thanks to the worker, I grab my coffee off the counter and take a sip, immediately burning my tongue. But I barely feel it, because I’m inching towards the sugar and creamer station, not because I need either, but because I can’t help but want to know what he’s saying.
“Come by my office during office hours and we can discuss an extension,” he says to the student, who nods gratefully.
“Thanks, Professor Page!” the student says before he turns and walks away.
I had planned to go up and try to talk to him, but those words stop me in my tracks.
Professor.
Professor Page.
Oh my God.
Oliver Page, the smartest boy in our entire graduating class and the biggest crush I’ve ever had, is a professor here.
I nearly drop my coffee, tripping over my own feet as I hurriedly rush out of the cafe. For a second, when I saw him, a sprout of hope had started to grow again in my mind but as I force myself away from Oliver's presence I know I have no chance with him. I'm pretty sure it's against all the rules for a professor to date a student, right?
How much do you care about the rules? A rebellious part of my brain I hadn’t known existed until now says.
I take another too-hot gulp of coffee to distract myself, and realize I’ve been walking in the completely wrong direction to class.
“Shit,” I murmur to myself, trying and failing to get a grip. Seeing Oliver has thrown my world into chaos, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay attention to anything else the rest of the day.
I spin on my heel, turning to head the correct way this time. I glance up at a clock as I pass, and speed up a little, wondering where all the time I thought I had has gone. You spent it daydreaming about the love of your life, that part of my brain says.
I don’t get the chance to argue with myself, because seconds later I walk right into the back of someone else. Coffee splashes off my shoes, and I squeal, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m running late for class and I wasn’t paying attention and—” I start babbling. All my words dry up as I look up and realize just who I’ve bumped into.
Gray eyes meet mine and I suck in a sharp breath. “It’s okay,” Oliver says smoothly, blessedly not covered in coffee. “What class are you going to?”
It takes me a minute to switch my brain on and figure out how to work my tongue. “Oh, uh, the Advanced Film and Media introduction,” I manage to say, trying to get myself together.
Oliver’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “Well, lucky for you, I know just where that is,” he says, nodding in the direction I was rushing in. “Come on.”
I follow him immediately, praying that he doesn’t think I’m a total idiot now. Did I imagine the way his eyes widened when they met mine? Am I just being delusional, or was there heat in his gaze?
Oliver pauses outside the door to a small lecture hall and holds it open for me.
“Thank you,” I gush, blushing. “And I’m so sorry again.”
“Don’t think anything of it, Emma,” he says, his voice a little lower than before.
He remembers my name, I think, forcing my legs to work as I head inside and find a seat at the end of the second row. I grab my notebook and pen out of my bag, settling in and ready to take notes.
The screen turns on, and the professor takes his place at the podium and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear why Oliver knew exactly where I needed to go.
“Welcome to Advanced Film and Media, I’m Professor Page and this semester we’ll be covering…” Oliver—Professor Page—begins, but I can’t focus on a word he’s saying because I’m too busy crashing out over the fact I somehow have to survive a whole semester being taught by the only man I’ve ever wanted.
I’m so screwed.
2
OLIVER
This is the first semester I’m teaching this class. Last academic year, I taught mostly undergrad electives, but with an esteemed Film professor retiring and me apparently having proved myself well with my students getting excellent grades and having lots of praise for my teaching, I get the privilege of teaching the main film Master’s class this year.