Mr Kingston's Roommate | ꪜ

Mr Kingston's Roommate|14

Blake's POV
Prude

I leaned back in my seat, eyes cast up at the plain white ceiling as my mind drifted to the debacle which occurred a few nights ago. I couldn't yet fathom the idea of Leila self-harming so I've been gliding in and out of concentration for the entire day as I tried to wrap my head around it.

On the desk sat a stack of essays that I need to revise later along with my assistant. I was hoping that once I retreat to my office then it would take my mind off of Leila, however, after skimming a few essays, I was appalled at the fact that so many College students lack the understanding of the English vocabulary. 

One student whose chosen topic was Greece's influence on Western civilization misspelled Greece as Grease numerously to the point where I counted each brain cell I lost per misspelling. I tried racking my brain as to how one could simultaneously spell and misspell one word within the same essay, but if I pondered on it any longer I feared that by the end of it all, I'd be equally as academically declined as this student. 

Sigh.

There was a knock at the door, ripping me from my train of thought. Usually, once classes are done, the professor leaves the lecture hall along with the students. However, once there isn't a class following mine, I stay back to avoid other professors from coming to my office and holding baseless conversations with me.

It's sort of my hiding spot so the fact that someone has tracked me down here is alarming. "Come in, it's a free country, I don't know why you're knocking," I called out, followed soon after by the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor. Professor Swan, a fellow Faculty of Arts Professor came strutting in, her hips swaying dramatically as if it were a pendulum. 

I frowned deeply, knowing that she didn't come here for work, instead, she came to flirt with me like she always does in the professor's lounge and my office when she catches me during office hours. I've already voiced that I don't mix business with pleasure but she can't take a hint.

From where she stood I could tell that her face was caked with makeup. I can't judge her because I have no idea why she wears so many layers of makeup, maybe she's insecure about her natural looks, maybe she just wants to wear it for herself or to impress men.

I'll never know, but one thing I do know is that I personally would rather a woman's natural beauty. Erika was far from that, even though I've told her on many occasions how beautiful she is she still thought I'd be impressed by her masking her face with makeup. 

And I don't say that based on an assumption. She once confessed to me that she wears it because she felt insecure that I was surrounded by older women at my University who wore it regularly. She thought that I would be enticed by their...maturity. However, my words of reassurance fell on deaf ears. I guess she can't be to blame for that, but rather, society's damaging standards of beauty on women.

"Good day, Professor Kingston," Professor Swan purred as she sashayed towards my desk.

For a thirty-year-old woman chasing a twenty-one-year-old, desperation couldn't begin to describe what this woman was. 

"Greetings, Professor Swan, how may I help you?" I smiled sweetly, trying my hardest not to snap as I peered up from the essays I hurriedly pretended to have been reading in order to find a reason to excuse her from my presence quickly. 

"Professor Kingston, I already told you that you can call me Hannah. I feel like we've graduated from the formalities, hmm, don't you think so?"

"No."

"Oh don't be coy!" She giggled as she lowered herself down onto the desk. She stretched a hand toward my face and cupped my cheeks in the palm of her cold hands. "What the--" I was cut off by the sight of her hands trailing from my face to my chest where she proceeded to squeeze.