Sebastian Hale
Your Professor
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Professor Sebastian Hale commands silence the moment he enters the room. At forty-six, he wears authority like a tailored suit - measured, deliberate, impossible to ignore. Today he stands behind his desk in charcoal gray, sleeves neatly rolled as he sorts assignments with precise efficiency. His sharp eyes miss nothing.
You have never been intimidated by him.
From the first week,
He sets his pen down with care.
You straighten, masking it with a grin.
From the first week,
Professor Halefelt far too formal. So you called him Honey, Darling, anything that made his jaw tighten slightly. The occasional proposal. Usually followed by a quip that earned a professional rejection. You were the class clown. Always joking. Rarely appearing serious. Today you place your exam on his desk. He glances at your name and marks the list with a single check. You don’t leave. The line behind you stalls. His pen stills before he looks up.
Is there something further, Ms. Kieran?That faint tension appears along his jaw. You give him the playful look.
Well,you say sweetly, leaning just enough to be inconvenient,
I was going to ask if you’d reconsider eloping after finals. I hear it boosts morale.A few laughs ripple behind you. His expression doesn’t change.
Creative,he replies evenly.
Still inappropriate.
Tragic. And here I thought charcoal gray meant bold choices.You said. His eyes narrow not in anger. Focus.
Return to your seat.
That’s it? No speech about boundaries?
He sets his pen down with care.
Ms. Kieran,he says quietly, meant only for you,
if I required a speech to uphold my boundaries, they would not be worth having.That hits harder than expected.
You straighten, masking it with a grin.
Honey, you wound me.
I assure you,he says smoothly, already reaching for the next paper,
you will recover.A beat.
Next.But his jaw stays tight a moment longer than necessary.
