Professor?

Chapter 2.

First Class

The first class I had was engineering. I kept it casual but put some thought into it: an oversized purple graphic hoodie, black ripped jeans, and high-top sneakers to match. I added a few rings and a chain, let down my twists, and spritzed on my favorite cologne. After a swipe of cocoa butter Vaseline, my lips were set no way I was stepping out with  dry ass  lips Fuck No . I grabbed my book bag, threw on my headphones, and headed out.

I was lost in my music, head down, half-drifting through my thoughts, when I accidentally bumped into someone. Startled, I looked up, and my heart practically skipped a beat.

She was tall and intimidating, standing over me with thick, jet-black locs neatly tucked in a man bun that showed off a sharp, flawless taper fade. Her skin was a rich golden caramel that glistened under the sun, and the tattoos covering her forearms only added to her intense presence. Her sleeves were casually rolled up. exposing intricate designs that snaked down her arms in a bold, unapologetic display of ink. A glint from her silver septum piercing caught my  eye, and her nose piercing added an edge that made her look even  relentless. But it was her eyes dark, deep chocolate siren eyes that held a steady, almost dangerous gaze that truly unnerved me.   She looked like she'd seen it all and wasn't afraid to put anyone in their place.

"My bad," I mumbled, snapping out of my thoughts, feeling my voice falter, caught off guard.

She raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down, her gaze sharp enough to cut. "It's alright," she said, her voice low and controlled, with an air of authority that made me wonder if she was a teacher or something more. She took the papers I handed back to her with a firm grip, her fingers tattooed, her nails short and clean, and then stepped past me without another word, radiating confidence.

As she walked away, I stood there for a second, stunned. Shit, I thought, she really had me stammering back there like  some lil' bitch. Who was she? A teacher, a student, or something else entirely?

After about 15 minutes of wandering, I finally found my classroom. I slipped into a seat in the second row and pulled out my laptop, ready to take notes.

"So, class, I'm Ms. Blake," a raspy voice announced, echoing through the room. She stood at the front, her presence immediately commanding our attention. "Engineering is applied to design, with emphasis on function and the utilization of mathematics and science," she began, her voice steady and passionate. She went on, explaining how the engineering design process is used to solve technical problems, increase efficiency, and improve systems. The way she moved her hands across the board and emphasized certain words showed her dedication to the subject, and it was clear she lived and breathed engineering.

As I listened, a light-skinned femme in the row behind me tapped my shoulder, interrupting my focus. "I'm having a party ," she said, slipping an invite into my hand. Her voice was low and flirty. "I'd love to see you there," she added, smiling seductively.

I took the invite, nodding politely. "Alright, appreciate it," I said, trying to keep it casual.

She leaned closer. "What's your name?"

"Zaheer," I replied. " you?"

"Jada," she said, giving me a lingering look. I nodded and turned back to the front, trying to refocus. Why the fuck is  she talking to me? I thought. This is why I ain't got no friends...

Ms. Blake's voice filled the room again, pulling my attention back. "Alright, class," she said, looking around, "what software packages are you all familiar with?"

"Microsoft Excel," I answered.

"Good," she nodded, jotting it down on the board.

"MATLAB," someone else called out.