Work Text:
"I swear, Darcy," you comment to your best as you sit on your chair beside hers, "I don't see it you girls talk so much 'bout Professor Rogers. Yes, he's from Brooklyn, I get it. And he's polite and nice, uhu. But you girls fell for him on the very first day. It's been three months already and I haven't seen anything out of extraordinary on him."
"This, dear (Y/N)," she says, turning to look at you, "is because you keep drawing sexy guys with sexy American suits on your notebook. If you'd pay any attention on him you'd see how perfect the guy is."
"Darcy."
"Oh no, don't. You'll pay attention on him today. Come on, you'll see it." You sigh.
"Fine. But if I don't see it, you'll be damned." She smirks and turns again to the board as professor Rogers enters the classroom and puts his books on his table.
"Good morning, guys. Open your books on page three hundred and seventy-one." You open your book and look at him again, watching as he talks to some students who went to ask a few questions about the exam from the last week.
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"Miss (L/N). You've done the exercises I asked," you look up to see professor Rogers standing next to you. "What do I own the honor of actually having you participating in class?"
"Morning, Mr Rogers. Darcy is the best candidate to blame." You laugh at her indignant squirm.
"I see. May I check your exercises? Since I passed them ten minutes ago and you've finished then already." You nod. He takes your notebook and sits by your side, reading your answers. You open your book and take a paper with one of your unfinished drawings.
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"Did you search for the answers on your book?" You look up at Professor Rogers again and shake your head. "It figures. Your answers are too perfect to be found on it." He smiles at you, "congratulations, then, for formulating the best answers ever."
"Uh, thank you, I guess." You murmur, too shocked with his perfect smile to form a proper answer.
"As to be expected from the girl with the perfect grades." He smiles once again then gets up and goes open the door as someone has just knocked on it.
"Darcy." You call. She looks at you, expectantly. "Whatthefuckisthatsmile? Isthatguyevenahumanbeing?" She laughs at you.
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