The Professor's Prada shoes snapped loudly against the floor as he walked down the hall towards his first lecture of the year. It was mid-August at NYU, and the fall semester was starting on a hot day. He reached up to his neck and slightly loosened his gray tie to cope with the heat as he reached the lecture hall. His hand paused on the doorknob briefly, then he opened it and sauntered into the hall. He didn't bother glancing at the students of his Psychology seminar, and instead stopped at his desk to place his designer briefcase down. He removed from it his lecture notes and a black dry erase marker, with which he turned to the board and wrote his name. Capping the marker he turned towards the class, and gazed around the room.

"This is Psychology 300 and I am Professor Hutcherson. This lecture will begin at seven pm sharp, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and if you are late you will not be allowed into my class." He paused for effect. "That being said, this class is a study of the thought process, focusing on the ability of decision making and what influences our choices. For example: you all made the decision to pursue a degree in Psychology, which lead you to this class. Was this a good decision, or a bad one? Most of you will agree that it was neither a good nor bad decision, but a necessary one." His gaze traced over the class, who were mostly nodding in agreement. "So your first assignment of the semester is to write a short essay on why this course is a good, bad or necessary decision. At the end of the semester, you will again write a similar paper on the decision, and we will see how many of you change your mind by the end of the term. Let's begin."

Charlotte Matthews sat in the very back of the lecture hall, her long brown hair covering her face. She kept her eyes on her notebook, scribbling notes down as fast as she could. The Professor was fast paced, and he did not pause often. Being a Psychology major was something she always aspired to, and this seminar was necessary in order to finish her last year and graduate. She was surprised, however, when the Professor strode into the room. He looked so young, and very well dressed. She didn't know designers very well, but she could tell when something was expensive, and everything on Professor Hutcherson was expensive, down to his very shoes. Charlotte learned quickly that his age was not something to judge him by. He was very knowledgeable about the subject matter, and even had an air of arrogance about him, as if all of this was beneath him. She realized he would not be an easy professor, and she would need to work very hard to pass his class. Charlotte was startled out of her thoughts when the professor stopped talking. He glanced at his watch, then up at the class.

"We're about halfway through tonight's lecture. Let's take a five minute break."

He strode out of the room, and the class broke into scattered conversation. Charlotte put her pen down with a sigh, her hand cramping. She reached into her purse and pulled out some lotion, which she massaged onto her aching hand. Looking around the room, she noticed many others doing the same.

"You might want to invest in a recorder."

She jumped and looked around, searching for whoever was speaking to her. It came from a man who was seated a few seats in front of her who was leaning back to talk to her. He was good looking, with a mop of dark blonde curls on his head and a pair of sharp blue eyes. She smiled at him, and he smiled back before extending his hand to introduce himself.

"Owen Holt."

She reached out and shook his hand, noting that it was warm and soft.

"Charlotte Matthews. Everyone calls me Charlie though."

Owen smiled again, his eyes sparkling.

"I'm not blocking your view if I sit here, right? I hate sitting by myself, but I don't really know anyone yet."

Charlie shook her head, reassuring him that it was fine.

"Not at all. And I don't know anyone either, so you're in good company."

He paused. "What do you think of the professor so far?"

She thought carefully before answering. "He's very...young. But he seems smart, and fast paced;

like he doesn't put up with any bullshit."

Owen laughed, which made her jump a little, and she looked at him curiously.

"Sorry, ha, its just, I've never heard anyone describe Hutcherson so accurately before. You must be good at making first judgments."

"You talk like you know him. Have you had his classes before?"

Shrugging, he continued. "Not exactly. I used to help him with grading and such. Kind of like an assistant; I worked with him for a few semesters, but then I needed to focus more on my other classes and didn't have the time. He's kind of an asshole to be honest, and you're right in thinking that he has zero patience. But he's extremely smart and doesn't have a problem with the students, granted that they work hard. I just really needed this class to graduate, and I decided I'd rather take it with someone I'm familiar with." He gestured at her notebook. "I see you take good notes though, so I'm sure he'll like you just fine." He smiled at her. "Although, it would probably be better if you didn't have carpal tunnel by tomorrow, so if you would like, I can send you the lecture later. I'm recording it." He pointed to a digital voice recorder.

Charlotte gave a sigh of relief. "That would be amazing. Thank you."

The Professor stalked back in, slamming the door behind him, effectively silencing the room. Owen winced. "I'll catch you after class; he hates people not paying attention." Owen winked at her and turned around, facing the front.

The Professor turned on the projector and flicked the lights off, then began lecturing on the physiology of the brain and where thoughts were processed. No longer needing to take notes, Charlie settled into her seat. It was dark and warm in the room, and her eyelids began to droop. She took a deep breath, trying to force herself awake. She had tossed and turned all night, resulting in a poor REM cycle and her inevitable tiredness. But no matter how hard she fought, her eyes were determined to close as Professor Hutcherson lectured on, his voice lulling her to sleep.

"Miss. Matthews."

Charlotte groaned, nuzzling her head into her jacket.

She heard a loud sigh.

"Miss. Matthews, I implore you. Wake. Up."

Charlotte's eyes flew open as she came to the realization of where she was, and who was speaking to her. She slowly sat up in her chair, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Carefully, she turned to face the man who pulled her from her sleep. The Professor did not look happy, but she noticed that, thankfully, he had his briefcase in hand and the classroom was empty. The lecture was over for today, and Charlotte was speechless.

Professor Hutcherson stared down at her, his hazel eyes settling onto her brown ones.

"Miss. Matthews, I am not entirely sure as to why you felt the need to fall asleep in my class, but believe me when I say it better not happen again. I will not tolerate laziness. I expect to see you here at seven pm sharp on Wednesday and wide awake. Am I understood?"

Charlotte stared; all she could manage was a weak nod. His eyes softened slightly, and stared at her for a moment longer. There was something other than her laziness that had caught his attention, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He rid himself of his thoughts, and straightened up.

All he could manage was, "Good."

And with that, he turned and stalked out of the lecture hall. Charlotte sat in shock for a few moments before gathering her things and quickly following suit. She can't believe she fell asleep. And on the first day! Her inner self was banging her head against the wall in disappointment, and she vowed to get more sleep tonight so as to avoid a repeat of today.

It was nearly 10:00 at night, and she had plenty of homework. She stepped outside, and began walking to her small apartment. It was only fifteen minute walk from the school, and she enjoyed walking on warm nights. Staring at the stars, she mulled today's events over in her head. All of her classes went over well, especially Psychology. Meeting Owen was great, he was cute too. But the Professor...damn, he was really attractive. She startled herself with that thought. He was her professor for god's sake, she shouldn't even be thinking about him that way. Attractive or no, she needed to keep her distance. Lost in thought, she reached home quicker than she anticipated, and slowly climbed the steps to her door. Charlotte lived in an old house just off campus which had been converted into three apartments, two downstairs and one upstairs. She was lucky enough to rent the bottom left apartment, which saved her a trip up the stairs every night. It was small, only one bedroom, but it was home. It wasn't like she was used to anything much bigger anyways. The rest of the apartment consisted of a small kitchen that flowed into a living room. She had a small bathroom off the living room, and that was what made up her living space.

Charlotte was definitely beat, and she couldn't help thinking about Owen and how lucky she was to meet someone so nice on her first day of class. She didn't get to dwell on it long, though. She was already yawning, ready for bed again. Stepping over the threshold, she made her way to her room and collapsed onto the bed, resuming her sleep from before.

Thank you so much for reading! I'm going to try to upload a new chapter each Thursday by 6pm EST, and of course all constructive criticism is always welcome :)