𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

02. crumble

tuesday,
september 1st, 2020

EZRA GREYSTONE

The second this graduate professor guy walks through the door of the lecture hall, I know that I have to pay up. In fact, I almost hand Lola a tenner instead, just because he's that attractive.

Heads turn and lips part all over the classroom as he sets his couple of books down on the large desk down the front by the whiteboard.

"Daddy alert," Lola mumbles, eyes trained on the curly-haired lad in front of us.

I shoot her a look that she doesn't acknowledge because her hazel eyes are transfixed on the 6 foot God standing tall by the whiteboard. His long legs are clad in black suit pants and they're especially tight around his crotch area, but the second that thought enters my mind I feel myself flush crimson.

Stop thinking like a sicko, Ezra.

He wears leather boots on his feet - pointed at the toe - and a gorgeous, champagne coloured button up stretches across his broad shoulders, tucked inside the waist of his trousers. Somehow he manages to dress it down, leaving three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, but he still looks breathtaking. He even rocks a few tattoos, one or two littered on his wrists. 

"Uhm, hi," he speaks, startling me and dragging me out of my daydream, "I'm Professor Hemmings, or Mr Hemmings, or even Luke, if you prefer."

Luke.

His accented voice is like silk, and Lola and I share a stunned glance before focusing back on the gorgeous man who's supposed to teach us for the next year.

"I assume you all got the email from Mr. Lennon. He has to take a year away from work due to personal issues and luckily enough, I've been selected to fill his space for now."

The way he speaks is baffling. His voice is rasped yet gentle and I'm hanging on his every fucking word because that's what his tone does to you. It's smooth and confident, somehow cocky with a polite undertone. He's done this before, I'm sure of it. Spoken in front of a crowd, I mean, for he doesn't seem unnerved or intimidated in the slightest.

I start to wonder where his accent is from. New Zealand? Australia? Wherever he's from, he sounds like royalty, because although his voice is rough, it's also soft, and the contrast strikes me.

"Ezra," Lola mutters, nudging me with her elbow. I wince and go to smack her on the arm before she gives me a stern look, eyes flittering to Hemmings before they land back on me.

I frown, following her glance only to be met with dozens of eyes staring right at me, including those baby blues of my professor. I gulp, partially confused and partially embarrassed— mortified actually, because I'm certain that I haven't ever had this many pairs of eyes on me at once.

"Umm..." I start quietly, still unsure as to why everyone is looking at me.

"Did you hear any of what I just said, Miss?" Hemmings directs his question at me with a raised eyebrow and barely parted lips. Rosy, supple lips.

"Hm?" I mindlessly hum, snapping back to reality when Lola mutters a disappointed Jesus fucking Christ from beside me, "Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, wait, no. Actually, I—"

"What's your name?" the professor interrupts my incessant stuttering and I'm actually somewhat grateful.

"My name?" I widen my eyes, wondering if I even heard the man correctly.