(You're 22 and he's 31)

You always have trouble with your thesis. You always ask for help from your teachers but they always refuse. What the heck. Well, finally you ask for help from the last teacher. Adam Thatcher. The hottest– No– smartest man alive.

"Sir..." You spoke nervously. You can't help but staring at his muscular form when he's still sitting down.

He lowered his glasses and looked at you, letting you finish your sentence. His strong and muscular arms crossed on his chest as he stands up, tower over you. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows so you could see his muscular arms.

"Can you please guide my thesis?" You asks. You really have to raise your head to see him, to meet his eyes. "Well.. accept my marriage, I will guide you the rest of your life." He smirks.