I made a promise to Zai that I would post this in here and see if y'all who might not have read it before would like it. In which case, I'd have to decide what to do with it. so here we are. This is a one-shot cross posted from tumblr that I'm putting up as a separate fic because it might be a multichap. It all depends.
Enjoy beauties!
Cora taps her pen against her desk lightly, softly, not really wanting to disturb the class in their mindless chatter, but trying to dispel the beat that has been playing on her brain for the last couple of minutes. She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, bored, irritated, and quite frankly just ready to go home. Or what home is here in London anyway.
It's been a really gloomy day—the skies are dark and it's been raining all day. But then again, what did she really expect? While living in England does have its perks—like putting thousands of miles between herself and her mother—it still has its downsides, one being that it rains almost every day and the weather is always all sorts of grey. Though, when she thinks about it, the pros still outweigh the cons, and she really can manage, she can live with it.
Most days, she doesn't really complain, doesn't really mind the rain and glum, even finds it romantic at night when the pavements are lit with yellow lights, the breeze cold against her skin. She likes it, likes that she can pretend to be in a movie as she walks down the Piccadilly Circus, likes that she can be free. But today has just been rough, really rough, it's just been absolute shit day, and she almost can't believe that it's only the second week of the semester. It doesn't help that her professor for the class is running late, and has already been absent the week prior. It's her last class, and the faster it gets on, the faster it gets done. The faster she gets home, too.
She looks up at the clock right at the front of the room, directly above the board and sighs almost gratefully, five more minutes and they're all free to go—she almost counts the minutes down, drums her pen to the same beat as every tick of the clock. She breathes in, out, before she pauses and collects her things, throws them carelessly inside her purse and zips it up. She can see most of the class do the same, with the same relieved look in their faces.
But just as the time dwindles down to three more minutes to freedom, the door bursts open, and a tall man with light brown hair comes in, drenched and looking all sorts of grumpy. He cannot possibly be mistaken as anyone else other than their professor and there is a collective groan that comes from the class, making the professor look at them with raised eyebrow. Cora could almost roll her eyes, but instead she sinks back into her seat defeatedly.
"If you don't want to be here, the door is open for you to go and leave," the man says, addressing the class, "Bring your hopes and dreams of passing this class with you, too."
So, he's not only grumpy but he's also terrifying, Cora thinks as she fishes out her notebook and pen from her purse before she puts it back down on the ground. She watches with rapt attention as the professor moves over to the desk after a few minutes of watching his class, waiting, no doubt if someone is about to leave the class, as he'd said. No one did, however, and the professor just turns back and peels off his wet coat, placing at the back of the chair, before he addresses the class again.
Cora's heart stops as she looks into her professor's eyes, and she wonders, asks herself if this is normal, if this is...what is it exactly? There's a moment that passes and she feels like she can't breathe, can't quite grapple what's happening, when his eyes meet hers and he stops, mouth open a little, as though he is about to say something but stops just as he sees her.
Cora thinks it's nothing but a mere fantasy, that he should see her, that he should notice her in a room of a hundred something students...he can't possibly notice her. But he holds her stare and for a moment it's just him and her, in that moment, and Cora could almost convince herself that this is a movie where she's the heroine meeting her hero for the first time.
But it's not.
And after a beat and a half, the professor snaps out of his daze and looks at the students again, away from her, and clears his throat.
"This is English History and I'm Professor Crawley, Robert Crawley, and no you may not call me by my first name or my last name. But you may call me Professor or Sir, or Dr. Crawley if you want to be accurate," he tells the group of twenty or twenty somethings that made up his class. "I apologize for being late, today, personal things and all that. I know you'll all forgive me. I can't say the same about late assignments, however. Late pass, no grade—and you can watch it fly right to the bin." He pauses and watches the crowd.
Cora bites down on her lip and sighs. Why does she feel this way? It's stupid. She doesn't even know the man except for his name and that he's her professor for the semester. He doesn't know her, and most probably won't because there are more than a hundred students just in this class and god knows how many classes he handles.
It's a stupid feeling...
Yet, her heart thumps in her chest, trip hammers, and she finds it just a little bit difficult to breather when he speaks and moves. He's attractive alright, that much is true, though his disposition leaves a lot to be desired (to be honest, it could just be the rain and the fact that he's soaked), and she should not be entertaining any thoughts in this likeness, at all, but still she does. And there isn't much she could do about the physical response she makes about him.
God, how stupid and how weak—it's only been the first hour, not even a full hour, come to think of it.
"You, Miss in the black and white dress," she hears him say, tearing through her daze and alarm bells ring in the back of her mind as she vaguely remembers that she is wearing a black and white dress that day. She looks up at him in question and points to herself.
Why did she choose to sit near the front anyway?
"Me?" she asks with trepidation as she stares back at him. His eyes are gorgeous, goodness god, and god he's looking at her.
"Yes you," he answers with derision, "Do you want to repeat to the class what I just said?"
She would, if she could, but that's out of the question since she's been immersed in her thoughts, day dreaming about the man who's now quizzing her about what he's just said. Such bad luck that she doesn't know, she could have impressed him. He raises an eyebrow when time passes and she cannot speak, and then he just sighs.
"A classic example of what I mean," he says, "Don't listen to my class and you miss a lot of things. My consultation hours would be posted just outside my office. Classes will begin next week, I'm expecting everyone to be prepared. My class is not the time to snooze so if you're only going to sleep, might as well not attend and I'll see you in the next semester. For the rest of you, I'll see you next week."
And then with just that, the class is dismissed and Professor Crawley walks over to the table and gathers his things. The students slowly pile out of the room, everyone speaking to the other, creating a buzzing noise.
Cora packs her things slowly and tries to get a subtle look at the professor, tries to calm herself down and let herself breathe. It's peculiar, really, how she reacts to him and she has to remind herself that this is the first time she's met this man, that she doesn't know him, and surely this is just a harmless crush—as it should be nothing more, this man is off limits.
Yet when he looks up and finds her looking at her, she feels her heart leap to her throat, feels the world stop just at the moment and everything seems to revolve around those beautiful blues.
He looks over at her and nods (and dear god, is that a smile?), before walking out, making his way through the thinning pile of students at the door.
Oh God, she's in trouble.
"You're so stupid, so weak," she tells herself with agitation. So stupid and so weak indeed to fall for a small smile and a beautiful pair of blue eyes, to feel something for a stranger who is as off limits as he could be...yet, feel something she does, and stupid and weak she might be for it, she really can no longer stop it.
He's had her at first glance.
Prompt: Cobert + "You're so stupid, so weak"
So I'm not really sure how much I want to continue this, well I do, really, but I don't know if y'all would. Let me know!