𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | ✓

15

We enter Professor Wright's office and I close the door, just in case if anyone gets a little curious, they won't be able to eavesdrop, or at least not easily. The blinds of his window behind the desk are drawn and the only source of illumination is the pair of fluorescent lights attached to the ceiling.

He places his satchel on his desk and turns to me, leaning to his desk and crosses his arms, the cords of his toned forearm flexing with the movement.

I open my mouth to talk but he starts faster, "No, Miss Stewart, I won't be making you my TA. Especially not this semester."

I gaze at him for a moment before smiling. "In fact, I thought about it and realized it sounded... a little far-fetched. So I'm over that." I wave my hand dismissively.

He levels a pointed stare at me and scoffs, "A little?"

I roll my eyes and shrug. "Since that's off the table, let's just forget I said that," I offer with a smile.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "Then what did you want to talk about?"

I lick my lips and shuffle my feet. With a sharp inhale, I push a strand of hair behind my ear. "Will you pass me with a good grade? I just showed you how serious I am about studying."

He purses his lips, his smooth brow furrows. "You were only active today. One session is not enough miss Stewart; it has to be consistent."

"It's the second week of November already, half of the semester is gone. I wrapped up whatever you taught in these weeks in less than a week, isn't that something? It can't be nothing! Are you saying you weren't impressed even a little?" I press the tips of my index finger and thumb together for emphasis.

He vacantly stares at me for a moment. I can't help but notice his shirt is the same color as his eyes, dark blue which only makes him look more striking. He places his hands behind himself on the desk, landing them on the precise places that have no textbooks or papers. A smug smile arches his lips. "Actually, after seeing your performance today, I ought to fail you. It's a shame you're wasting your abilities like that and as your professor, it's my duty to teach you to not do that. And what better way than failing you, so you'd remember to always use your full capacity."

Asshole. I force a tight-lipped smile. "I need a high grade because if I want to continue, I need a scholarship."

"Well, one session of activity is not enough, Stewart."

I draw a deep breath to calm my raging heart and fuming thoughts. I bite the inside of my cheek just in case I lose it and start screaming profanities at him.

Why did I have to get stuck with the most condescending ass of a professor for such an important issue?

Gathering my thoughts and pulling on a calm façade I state, "I'm a good student, which means, now that I have caught up with your class, I will keep on being active. I just need to be assured that I can count on a good grade from this class."

"Say your ideal grade is hundred... just being active is not enough. I'll admit, I was surprised, not impressed," he pauses for a more effective impact as he gives me a pointed look, "that you wrapped up half this course's syllabus in a week. But your midterm grade is awful and the assignments you turned in, aren't up to par."

My shoulders slump and I look away. I only slept two or three hours in these past days to catch up with his class, to impress him, and move on to the second part of my plan. It was all useless.

"Unless," he adds and my head shoots up. The black cloud of dejection parting way for a ray of hope. I wait for him to go on as he scans his bookshelf. "You make it up for it." His gaze jumps to me and our eyes lock.