Most of my classes take part in the Trinity Collage, which is a gorgeous building that is best described as Hogwarts on steroids. It's vintage, grand, and pretty much everything I've ever dreamed of. It houses a huge library that holds just about every book I can ever imagine needing, as well as state of the art technology. MacBooks are available to loan on demand and some you can keep for up to a month. My personal one is a million years old, so I'll definitely be taking them up on that offer soon. Writing a thesis on a laptop that takes thirty minutes to load sounds like hell.
"Sloan Jackson?"
I step forward and smile into the lens, acutely aware that this photo ID will follow me around for an entire year.
My old one was horrendous. I was mid blink and pulling a face even I didn't know I was capable of pulling.
Here's to hoping this one is much better!
"Welcome to your home for the next year, Sloan," offers the guy manning the photo desk. "You'll need this ID to enter and we ask that you wear it around your neck at all times. We take the safety of our students very seriously, and this is just one way we can ensure access into our building is limited."
Awesome!
"Do you have any questions?"
"If you could just point me in the direction of my first lecture, that would be great."
I show him my timetable and he happily reels off directions. It's relatively simple and within a few short minutes, I find myself stood outside LR14. Lecture room 14, I suppose!
Really, Oxford? Ten out of ten for creativity.
"You're early," remarks a familiar voice.
I spin around to find James stood mere millimetres away from me. He's even more gorgeous than I remember, fashioning a dark green cashmere sweater and fuck me—are those reading glasses?
"You're here before the teacher."
I don't bother hiding my surprise. "Are you taking this class?"
He steps forward and punches five numbers into the keypad positioned right next to my head. The entire time he does it, he never once takes his eyes off of me.
"I'm leading the class."
The door bleeps and before I can reply, James sidesteps me and pushes his way through. The lecture room is huge and just as amazing as the rest of the building, but I can't concentrate.
Did he just say he's leading the class?
I'm about to question him further when a few people arrive, taking their seats at the very front. I watch him empty his briefcase and subtly walk towards his desk, lowering my voice to a whisper.
"You're leading the class?" I ask.
He appears to enjoy my discomfort.
"Correct. Rumour has it I'm an amateur no one has heard of, but I can assure you I'm more than capable."
Realisation slaps me square in the face.
James Hudson.
Professor James Hudson. I fucking knew I knew that name!
"Oh?"
Kill me! Kill me now!
"I didn't—I just—" Bollocks! "Sorry."
He laughs. "Don't be. I found it rather funny."
I'm glad someone thinks so.
"You didn't tell me you were my professor," I accuse.

YOU ARE READING
The Professor
RomanceThis book is FREE with paid BONUS chapters. 21-year-old Sloan Jackson has worked her entire life to score herself a place at England's top University-Oxford. Between studying and saving up money, Sloan has no idea what it means to have friends or an...