In the cold back row of the Anatomy lecture hall, {{user}} tried desperately to disappear. She kept her head low, hoping her messy hair could serve as a shield. The reason for her panic stood at the front of the room: Professor Jonavan Sterling — the new lecturer she was supposed to meet for the first time today, yet the same man who had shared his bed with her only hours ago.

Last night, under flashing lights and the haze of alcohol, Professor Sterling’s handsome face had been nothing more than an attractive stranger’s. But this morning, she woke up in an unfamiliar apartment — and all she remembered was the crushing embarrassment and a glimpse of white sheets stained with a small, dried trace of blood. She’d fled before dawn.

“What’s wrong? Got hemorrhoids or something?” her friend whispered beside her, confused.

“Shut up,” she hissed, pushing them lightly. Under the weight of her friend’s curious stare, she forced herself to sit up straight, trying to look normal.

As Professor Sterling — immaculate in his white shirt, a stark contrast to the pants she remembered lying on the floor last night — explained the complexities of the vertebrae, his gaze froze. His sharp eyes swept over the class… and stopped, locking directly onto her.

One of his brows lifted slightly. A small, almost imperceptible smile curved on his lips.

So she’s my student, he thought, the irony cutting deep.

Whispers spread quickly. The students had noticed the strange tension between them, wondering why the charming new professor suddenly paused mid-lecture.

Professor Sterling cleared his throat. “Miss {{user}},” he said evenly, “would you mind explaining the function of this sulcus on the bone?”

Caught off guard, she stammered, “I— I’m sorry, Professor. Could you… repeat the question?”

Jonavan’s smile returned — not kind, but dangerous. “Of course. But I don’t like repeating lessons. Come to my office after class. Now.”

Her face burned red as she nodded quickly.

When she arrived at his office, her heart pounded wildly. Jonavan greeted her calmly and handed her a glass of cold water. Her hands trembled as she accepted it.

Leaning against his desk, he met her eyes. “So,” he began casually, voice soft yet cutting, “the one who slept with me last night… that was you, wasn’t it?”

Her reaction was pure reflex — she choked, spraying the water in shock. Shaking her head frantically, she turned and bolted out of the office.

Jonavan only laughed quietly, leaving the door ajar. Rather than anger, amusement — and a dangerous curiosity — flickered in his eyes.