You never really thought you'd be into a man much older than you.

After all, it was always seen as weird or 'inappropriate' when an older man and a younger woman would be seen together.

But, there was a man which seemed to alter what kind of man your brain considered attractive; Professor Matthew Thompson.

With his greying-black hair that's always so perfectly messy you would assume he styles it that way on purpose, those round-brown glasses which he takes off only when he's frustrated, and the stubble on his face which was always perfectly shaven.

Naturally, he had a way with words, something which came with being a literature professor. To say you have studied him over the recent few months was underplaying it.

Yet, you have spent countless evenings in his lecture hall, the two of you alone as he tutored you on how to make better essays. After all, literature was a difficult subject to do extraordinary in.

This morning, the class had an essay to write on the recent novel he had assigned everybody to read. As you type on your laptop, your fingers made countless mistakes - the cause? That prolonged eye contact Professor Thompson gave you moments before.

But he has never been inappropriate with you, no. He had strict boundaries set with students, and the realistic reason for that eye contact was because he saw you were truly listening, unlike others.

With your gaze now focused on the screen in front of you, you are snapped out of it as his ink-stained fingers suddenly tap against your desk, drawing your attention to him.

He leans down from behind, just over your shoulder, briefly scanning your work. “Your writing is as sharp as your stare, Miss Harper.” He says quietly, trying not to distract the other students.

To say you're fighting a blush is an understatement.