Yes, Professor

Wet Dreams

                                Ophelia

You know that girl in most 90s romantic comedies that seem to be somehow completely gorgeous and ordinary at the same time. Yeah, I wish I was one of those girls... in fact I wanted to be her so badly when I was younger that I practically used every birthday with to be like her.

Ever since I could remember I wanted to blend in, more specifically to fit in. I never managed to do that, I was always bigger than the other girls in my grade no matter what. And when puberty hit things only got worse, my curves were bigger than before and no guys wanted to date a big girl like me.

When the latest trend was being skinny I was heavy and curvy. It got so bad that fat became a bad word in my house, when referring to my weight I was only allowed to used the words; heavy, curvy or even chubby.

I hated my weight for the longest time, always wearing baggy clothes, and doing quite literally in my power to hide my figure. Even going as far as hiding in my house for all of senior year.

Which is why even at 19 years old I've never been kissed, I've never even been out on a date... maybe that was one of the reasons I was so terrified of tonight.

A few hours after Alastair and Maddox had left the office I had received a message from Maddox. Which creeped me out so much, because how the hell did he know what my number was?! He didn't even tell me it was him, all he wrote was; where do you live? And then nothing else.

Clearly he didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, because I was this close to calling the cops on him.
Once I had finally got my heart to stop freaking out, and confirmed it was actually in fact Maddox I texted him my address. Not something I'd ever thought I'd be doing texting my Art History professor my home address.

It was 7:45 when the panic of what I had done or was about to do finally set in. I was going back to an underground fight club that may or may not be entirely legal.

The next 15 minutes seemed to take forever, sometime during this time my cats decided it would be a good time to lay on me.

And you know the rules about cats, if they lay on you, you gotta lay there until they leave or you die. I don't make the rules I just follow them.

A buzz came from my phone and I hesitantly glanced over at the clock just under my TV, and wouldn't you know it; it was 8 o'clock sharp. It would seem they had a thing for punctuality.

"Sorry guys but I gotta go," I tell my cats.
They don't answer me but just kinda stare blankly back instead.
"That means you have to move," I say trying to get them to take the hint.
I don't know what I was expecting, they are cats after all, so I did something I've never had to do before. I got up, making my cats either abandon ship or stay along for the ride. They all jumped ship.

I grabbed a the pair of vans I had left by the door, quickly slipping them on my feet before heading out the door. On the way down to the loony I checked my bag making sure I had brought the appropriate protection.

Pepper spray? Check.
Pocket knife? Check.
Mace? Check.
Brass knuckles? Double check.

When the elevator doors open I took a deep breath and kept my head held high, so high that I walked right past Alastair waiting for me in the lobby.

"Miss Ophelia!" He shouted to grab my attention. I whipped around curious to know who would call me miss. I should have know it would be him.
"Uh you know you can just call me Ophelia right?" I ask.

"Yes I suppose I should considering we're now familiar with each other on a more personal level." He sighs as if I'm greatly inconveniencing him.

Ass.