Author's Note- Edited.

Enjoy!

Forbidden

History

Owning a car in New York City had never been more sensible. I could feel my anxiety begin to ebb as soon as I left the parking lot of the campus in which the auditorium was located. But, I didn't even allow myself to relax until I was a couple of miles away, breaching the campus where I attended my math course and was rushing my way to Professor Souza's classroom.

Once I burst through the doors to his lecture hall, this strange but gratefully accepted blanket of safety enveloped me and I released a shaky breath that I wouldn't be surprised to have been holding the entire drive over.

"You're late." I heard Professor Souza rumble. I glanced across the room, the space shifting slightly as my previous lightheadedness from the situation with Professor Banks settled minutely. I found my math Professor sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a stack of papers as he scribbled on them with a red pen. He hadn't even glanced my way upon my entrance.

So we were back to being strict and stoic weren't we?

"I-I'm sorry," I muttered, wincing at the quaky sound of my voice. If Liz knew what had just passed between Professor Banks and I, she would have suggested that I was overreacting. And maybe I was. However, I seemed to be the only one that was able to peer through the fog and mirrors that Professor Banks displayed and, instead of seeing the attractive badass that every other girl depicted of him, I saw the dangerous marauder underneath.

Even if it was simply his personality that seemed menacing, I didn't trust Professor Banks and I was going to agree with my gut instinct to steer clear of him if at all possible.

As I spoke, Professor Souza glanced up at me from his desk. I was still hovering by the door, shaking as the aftereffects of fear rolled off of me in waves. Suddenly, he was out of his chair, striding towards me with a questioning and surprisingly concerned look adjourning his features.

"Chloe? Are you alright? You're pale." He asked, puzzled as he stepped closer to me. He reached out to give some sort of assistance before thinking better of it and crossing his large arms over his broad chest. He simply stood at a comfortable distance whether I was still having an internal anxiety attack or not. Which was a close proximity. His eyes were crisp and hard, assessing me as he met my own blue ones. And, as they did, an instant warm flooded through me and I knew I was safe for the time being, far from the auditorium and my arts teacher.

"Professor Souza? C-can I tell you something in confidence?"

He nodded, brows coming together strictly. Not quite questioning but almost sternly, as if what I had to say was of the utmost importance and he would tend to it as if it were his own business.

"I-it's about Professor B-banks-" I started. However, Professor Souza immediately dropped his arms and took a more defensive stance, instantly reacting to the name as if it were a reflex and blurted, "What did he do to you?"

I was taken aback briefly, startled by his rough tone, almost swearing that I had heard the question rip from his chest in a growling manner.

"H-he didn't do anything. I just get this bad feeling about him and, I might be reading too much into it, but-"

Derek released a breath, relaxing notably as he took a small step away from me, his aura flipping instantaneously from almost hostile to deflated and withdrawn.

"Chloe. Don't make excuses for your instincts. Do you understand me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, thrown awry by Professor Souza's rollercoaster of emotions. His eyes linked to mine again, serious and steely as he replied.

"I honestly don't know how he got a job here at NYU. I don't even know how he graduated high school, let alone college. I've known him for a few years and I'm telling you not to ignore those feelings you have towards him."

"He mentioned something about that," I said slowly. "He said something about the two of you back in college. Did something happen?"

In all honesty, throughout all my anxiety, I forgot that that was one of the first questions to pop into my head when Professor Banks spoke of his college days with Professor Souza. What was it that made Royce react the way he did when I mentioned my math teacher? And vice versa, when I expressed my concerns to Professor Souza.

Said instructor averted his eyes, verifying that I had a right to be suspicious. However, he didn't answer. Instead, his attention was captured as he stared out the window. Though, I doubted that he was looking at the landscape of New York as he had this faraway look about his majestic, jade orbs.

I wondered impatiently what he was thinking or possibly remembering. And, as Professor Souza spoke again, I found that I had to get used to that disappointment of having to wait for a straight answer.

"Right now, none of that matters." He said lowly. "Just be wary of Professor Banks, for the time being. That's all I need you to understand."

"Shouldn't I know if there is something-" I began before Professor Souza snapped out of his memories to give me a stern look.

"No."

"But-"

"Chloe, all that I ask is that you follow your instincts. And-" He paused for a moment, eyes holding mine much like Nate's did at times. A whirlpool of undetermined emotions and an unfathomable amount of intensity, as if he could see right to my core.

"-If you continue to get these bad feelings, come straight to me."

Part of me really wanted to wholeheartedly agree to his demand, slightly dazed that he was expressing so much concern for me and the situation. But, the other part of me didn't like the demand part of it so much. This was roughly the first time I was able to realize how bossy Professor Souza was. I mean, in class, it made sense for him to be unyielding. But, this wasn't class. This was my life.

And, when it normally came to my own life, I didn't like much being told what to do as if I couldn't handle myself.

"Chloe?" Professor Souza questioned, tone indicating that he was slightly frustrated with my delayed response.

"I know what happened between you two isn't any of my business." I huffed, agitated. I could feel my fingers curling into fists at my sides as one of his dark, slender brows twitched upward slightly, disbelief crossing his features at the sound of my tone.

"And I know that you're my instructor, but I'm not a child and I don't like being talked to as if I were one."

At the moment, the man before me wasn't Professor Souza, my heartthrob of a calculus teacher and superior. He was Derek, the average- if not slightly above- guy I had joked with back at Michael's diner. This fact addled my common sense to address him respectfully and accordingly. Instead, I was approaching him how I often did with Nate whenever we got into an argument.

For a second, Professor Souza didn't look too happy and I could tell that I wasn't the only stubborn one in the room. He blew out a frustrated breath after several minutes of silence on my part and a few vain attempts to respond on his end. Finally, he met my eyes, reluctance evident in his own when he finally spoke.

"I'm not here to belittle you. I'm here to tutor and assist you so that you don't fail my class."

And my hard-ass, lovable Professor Souza was back.

"However, as not only your mentor, but as one equal speaking to another, I'm warning you to keep as far from Royce Banks as possible. For my own reasons, I don't trust him and I don't want to see-" He seemed to struggle for the right word, pausing and grimacing as if he weren't used to being in the wrong and openly admitting it while simultaneously trying to get his point across.

"-I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

I tried- God knows I tried- to ignore the way my heart lurched at his words and concentrated on remaining resolute. Something about him told me that Professor Souza was the kind of man that would say what you wanted to hear for the time being before turning around and repeating the issue. I think it was because of how easily he accepted my sass- though notably surprised by it- and forcibly expressed that I should listen to what he was really trying to tell me.

And I understood him. Though it wasn't informational, I knew that Professor Souza had his reasoning and he was sincere. So, for now, I was going to have to deal with that.

"Alright." I agreed, in which Professor Souza responded by exhaling in an exasperated fashion.

"Very well. Now, shall we actually get down to the reason I've allotted this time to you?"

Professor Souza led me over to his desk. He had set up a station for me across from him simply by dragging a chair from one of the closer of the student desks to sit opposite of him and placing a piece of scratch paper on the desk with a solitary, number two pencil. I took my seat as he slumped into his.

"I'm going to read off problems that are similar to what you missed on the midterm," Professor Souza began to explain while grabbing a piece a paper with several equations listed on it.

"Once you copy them down, work through them to the best of your ability and I'll grade them. I'm counting it as something of a make-up test that can at least bring your score on the midterm to a 70 percent."

"So I would get a C instead of an F?" I questioned, a glimmer of hope teasing me from the pit of my stomach.

Professor Souza nodded and added, "That will allow you to keep the credit of this course so that you don't lose your scholarship. However, in order to keep you from failing more tests or even your final, we're going to have these study sessions so that you know that you are comprehending the material."

"You make it sound like I can't comprehend math," I mumbled bitterly under my breath. He must have heard for he raised a brow and pulled my midterm test from beneath his stack of papers holding my make-up test problems, showing me the evil, red F on the front just below my name.

"When you're getting acceptable grades I'll think twice about whether you can understand math or not." He stated blatantly, though, the corner of his lip twitched just a fraction, threatening to form that smirk I was beginning to grow somewhat fond of.

I flushed and reached for the pencil he left for me and nodded for him to begin. After I had copied down all the problems, I got to work, knowing full well as I started that, if I hadn't gotten it the first time, it was going to be really difficult for me the second.

And it was, for the next forty five minutes passed something like this.

I was on my third equation, finding it hard to even decipher an answer out of the mess I had made on the page when I heard, "Wrong. Try it again."

I glanced up at my calculus Professor having not heard him since I had started. He had resumed what he was doing when I had arrived. It seemed as if he were grading papers. Even as he spoke he wasn't looking at me or my work, but the stack of homework sitting in front of him, scribbling a large B on the page whose owner I could not recall.

"Did I get the first two wrong?" I asked, concerned with the answers I had written for the previous questions.

"I can't tell you that, Chloe." Professor Souza answered factually. I frowned.

"But you just-"

"Because you're hesitating. If you're really that unsure of what to do next, then erase what you have and start over."

That made sense. If I was having such a hard time, maybe it was because I had taken the wrong step somewhere in the equation. I did as he said and started the problem again and surprisingly found where I had made the mistake.

About halfway through, Professor Souza interrupted my struggles again with a mumbled, "Incorrect, Chloe. Try and find your mistake or start over."

He still wasn't even looking at me and I hadn't been hesitant about the current problem. It looked right to me, so why was he berating my answer? Knowing full well that he was the Professor and had the answer sheet, I sighed and erased the work I had.

"Why would you erase it if you knew that your answer was correct?" Professor Souza questioned. I shot him a disbelieving look to find him finally looking at my sheet with disapproval.

"You said it was wrong."

"I also told you that I can't give you that information." He rumbled. "You need to stop second guessing yourself."

So he tricked me. Sure, it may have helped me see that I wasn't so secure with the answers I came up with, but couldn't he have just said that without having me erase all the hard work I had done?

Grumbling to myself, I rewrote the problem and continued down the list, all while being bothered by statements like, "Slow down. You're going to miss something."

"Stop thinking about it too hard, Chloe."

"You're second guessing yourself again. Start over."

When I found myself stuck on the final four questions, I was resolved to glaring at my paper, right cheek cupped by my hand as I propped my elbow against Professor Souza's desk, flipping my pencil idly and distractedly in my free hand.

I was probably frozen like this without progress for several minutes while simultaneously getting on Professor Souza's nerves, for he shot his hand out and caught mine, ceasing the pencil from its incessant twirling on my command. I was caught by surprise and glanced over at his hand enveloping mine, a blush creeping to my cheeks and a lump forming in my throat by the physical contact.

Much like the first time I had shook his hand, it left a tingling sensation where his skin met mine.

"Chloe, you're losing focus." He stated quite harshly, snapping me from the fact that he was holding my hand prisoner only to keep me from fiddling with my pencil. I met his eyes to find him staring at me critically and released an exhausted breath, allowing myself to calm from the thrilling waves that were rushing through me from him merely touching me.

"Can I take a break? I feel like my brain is going to explode." The statement was only half true, as my brain was partially flustered by his hand closed over mine still.

He sighed and released me- to my displeasure- and leaned back into his chair. I observed that his stack of papers that he had been grading were no longer on the desk and I wondered how long ago he had finished. It was then, as I surveyed how neat Professor Souza's work space was, that I noticed his keys sitting beside an empty coffee mug, a particular trinket living among the metal devices catching my attention.

"You went to Buffalo high school?"

Professor Souza followed my gaze and gave the bison shaped keychain a bored expression.

"You could say that. I only graduated there, but it was second high school I attended in just my senior year."

Intrigued, I opted to digging just a bit to learn a little more about my calculus Professor. I reached into the pocket of the light jeans I was wearing and pulled out my car keys, the same keychain hanging from them as Professor Souza's.

"I only graduated there too." I said as I held up my keys for him to see. His smirk took place and he reached for my keys. He investigated the keychain briefly before taking a small interest in the key to my car.

"My Dad and I moved a lot for his job, so I never got to stay in one school for too long. But, he was able to finally settle down in Buffalo and promised I'd spend the duration of my senior year at one school. College has been better by far, though. If I weren't on my own, I'd be in Europe with him right now."

Professor Souza seemed to have left the classroom, for it was Derek now, leaning casually back in his chair with his arms crossed- after he had handed me back my keys- and snorting in response to my minor anecdote before adding his own comment.

"Sounds pretty similar to what my family did. I didn't mind much, though. I knew my father was busy trying to raise us kids on his own and the only way he could do that was by working. So I never complained."

"What about your sister?" I asked curiously, remembering that he had mentioned her at the diner.

Derek rolled his eyes and muttered, "Her and my brother could find a complaint on just about anything."

So, as I had previously suspected, he did have a brother. Fueled by my zeal to know more about him, I made to ask more questions out of the millions running amok in my brain. However, for the umpteenth time since I had come to this study session, Derek sighed and pushed himself up from his seat, motioning towards my makeup test that was all but forgotten on his desk.

"We're getting off track, Chloe. You need to finish these equations and then we'll discuss the methods that'll work best for you to keep your grades up in this course."

Deflated, I nodded in agreement and picked up my pencil to resume my work.

Welcome back, Professor.

At least the session wasn't a total loss. I knew I had some sort of ability to break through his hard exterior and I planned on executing it more often in the future.