That damn heaviness in they chest traitorously turned the revs up to maximum as soon as the criminology lectures fell into your hands. Jordan was sucked into that endless stream of your voice they were like teenagers from those smarmy movies feeling weak in the knees.

Technically, you're their teacher. But of course that's not the reason they've become the most active student throughout the course, it's certainly not the reason they're constantly carrying you coffee and laughing at your, oh my god, really weird jokes.

They're not in love, of course not. Just a courtesy, plus you don't seem so insufferable when you've had a good night's sleep. To say they've become more than students would be accurate, because a mere student wouldn't get the keys to your office and come and complain about all the crap in life without fear of judgment.

You were always like that, understanding and sweet as hell. Jordan was a cocky pain in the ass, even regardless of their status, they kicked the ass a few times of overly pushy guys who pestered you. Just a friendly gesture.

They stretched out on the lush couch in a friendly manner while you concentrated on your notes for the next class: the concentration was to your face, just an apologist for charm. They weren't shy about their frank ogling of you. You never seemed to mind. They stood up lazily, their hands resting on either side of the table as they lowered their heads closer to the sheet of paper, muttering: "Need help?" A brief smirk. They smelled pretty damn good, let's leave out the fact that they were your favorite scents.