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Those two damned words. Good girl. Good. Girl.
They kept replaying over and over in your head whenever you looked at your reading for next time you saw Professor Stan. The way it rolled off his tongue so easily, and that it was like honey... it awakened something within you that you fought so hard to suppress these past few weeks.
You definitely thought about the way his tongue would feel against different parts of your body, wondering if it would be like when he said your name or directed those words again at you.
Lectures and seminars were hard - watching him interact and teach was so fascinating. He often wore tight shirts, which almost always showed off his back muscles. Too often you caught yourself drooling whenever he asked a question. He wrote so easily on the board, pointing constantly at the projection.
Everything he did was so perfect, that you thought that God really took his time on this man. You were lost in your own mind, and it was tough to leave. You did promise yourself not to become someone with an infatuation with a teacher... yet, here. you. are.
Deciding to drop history work for a while, you go back to reading 'Emma' by Jane Austen for your English elective. There was two good things about it: the first being the amount of reading of books you enjoyed, and the second being the professor who led it.
Professor Evans was an extremely good looking man, but not your type. No teacher should be your type. As your tutor, you confided in him a lot, and he was there for you, helping and guiding you through college life as well as giving the best advice he could come up with. He really helped change the saw you saw English. He knew about how much you hated analysis and thought that all your ideas were wrong, and that you just wanted to read and annotate; basically destroy the book to make it your own.
Professor Evans changed all that, and suddenly you were writing every single annotation and thought into essays, which turned out to be very good. Your grades were high in the first few weeks of college. You were extremely proud of yourself, the hard work finally paying off.
One last essay to do - History. You've been putting it off, and doing the minimum research you needed to do for it. You booked some time with Chris, as he gave you permission to call him by his name in these one-to-ones, to have a read over everything. Also have a bit of a therapy session; you didn't mind which came first.
Chris read over the first draft of your essay with furrowed eyebrows. You knew it wasn't as good enough as the other subjects you wrote for.
"What could I do to make it better? I really need to keep my grades high."
"Don't stress too much on having high grades this semester - I don't want you to burn out. But... have you been doing the reading Professor Stan set? Or any extra reading?"
You bite your lip. You couldn't lie to Chris. "I've just been doing the reading."
"You know you should be more than that Janet." He looks almost disappointed. "Has anything been happening in the classes?" It's like you're transparent and Chris can see your thoughts.
Shit. Deflect. "How has life been treating you sir?"
"Janet", he sighs, not liking the change in topic.
"Okay okay. It's not... specifically the teaching."
He nods for you to continue. The great thing about your dynamic relationship with your tutor was that you could tell him anything and he would listen until you're finished.
"What if... you like someone... who shouldn't like you back?" You're not sure if it makes sense. Hopefully it's enough to think you're just a simple girl in love. But you were. You ignore the nagging in your head again.
"Ahhhh, so... a classmate?"
"Yes. Absolutely. It's really silly. He just annoys me a lot in class but I actually think I have.... feelings for him." It was a white lie. Tom Holland sat near you in lectures and seminars with Mr. Stan, and he annoyed you to the point where you moved, and he followed. It was fine, as he made you laugh sometimes. You considered him a friend - he didn't do enough to distract you, but enough to annoy you.
"Now, you just worry about working on this essay. I'd suggest some extra reading, introducing your ideas in a bit more depth in the introduction and more analysis in the second paragraph. I'll worry about this boy."
You smile at Evans. It worked. You just hoped he wouldn't bring it up again. Also hoping that the whole idea that teachers gossiped about who would make a cute couple was just a high school thing.
- - - -
Professor Stan has now made a habit out of calling you a good girl. You didn't mind, as it fuelled those late night fantasies, but you were worried people would notice. Although, he would just whisper it when he's passing by.
"Good girl, brilliant answer."
"That's it, well done."
"Could you pass that to me? Good girl."
Simple things like that. But it would drive you insane. You weren't supposed to be so... infatuated with your professor, but they way his eyes glinted in a lecture due to his passion for the subject made it seem that it was okay. Okay to be attracted to someone who shared such passion.
And it was hard for Sebastian too. He couldn't help whispering praise to you in class, loving the way you would burn up and look down at your laptop. It drove him crazy; he knew he shouldn't do it, but it was something that seemed so... natural. There was no going back after he got a taste of you. Your choice of outfits around campus didn't help either, often wearing skinny jeans or a skirt that matched your eyeshadow, just showing off how flamboyant you were.
When he took in the classes' essays, he looked at yours first. He was in shock - it wasn't to the high enough standard he thought it would be. The way the worlds flew out of your mouth in seminars and the complex questions you would ask in lectures suggested to him you weren't struggling.
He checked the online system, and saw you had the highest grades he had seen in the first few weeks of the semester - all the endless classes you were taking had above 75% in quizzes and essays. Sebastian thought he was doing something wrong, and it pained him to mark you so low.
Needless to say, you were upset when he handed the essay back to you. A C on your first essay in a subject you learned to love again. Professor Stan didn't even say anything as he handed it back to you. And that put you in a worse mood.
Not even a joke from Tom could cheer you up. All you wanted was a quiet "You're still a good girl. Next time."
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