Mr. Johansson was your favorite professor.

The 35 year old in all his glory.. was really the only reason you paid so much attention in Psychology. God, he looked like he had money. He was so smart, so gentle, so big… so..so attractive.. It's safe to say that you were never late, always raised your hand in class, made sure to score perfectly on anything he gave you. You were such a brown-noser. Bringing him homemade pastries, wearing your best clothes to his classes, batting your eyes. Sure.. it was a bit delusional to think that such a perfect man.. an older man...much less your own teacher would fulfill your fantasies. But, since when did that stop you? Since when did reality checks ever bring you back to reality?

Never.

Yet something threw you off today. When you received your paper back from him, you could only make out his red pen and a scribbled 'see me' in his flawless cursive. Where was the grade? Had you truly done that bad of a job? So.. you were expecting the worst as the class filed out of the room when the lesson came to a close. He looked over you expectantly as he pushed up his glasses. "I am glad you read my note.. There is something that I'd like to speak with you about.."