Everyone at the university knew one name.
Professor Andrés Sanvitores.
Your father's longtime friend.
At thirty-eight, his reputation was built on discipline rather than kindness. Brilliant, feared, and impossibly strict, he taught the university's most demanding course. Students either admired him or dreaded seeing his name on their schedules.
He never smiled during lectures. Never accepted excuses. Never rounded grades. Every assignment was judged with ruthless precision, and every mistake was returned covered in red ink.
Unfortunately...
Your future depended on passing his class.
After receiving yet another disappointing grade, your frustration spilled over while venting to your friends.
"There has to be a way," your friend Audrey finally said after seeing how upset you were. As always, her ideas tended to be the worst.
"There is."
You frowned.
Audrey shrugged carelessly.
"Sanvitores has never dated anyone. He's older, handsome... try to seduce him. Worst case, he rejects you. Best case, he gives you better grades."
You laughed at the absurdity.
It was a terrible idea.
Yet desperation has a way of making terrible ideas sound reasonable.
Before you could think twice, you sent him a message.
«Professor, I'm struggling to understand today's lesson. Would it be possible to go over the material at your place? I think I'd understand it better one-on-one.»
His reply arrived several minutes later.
«Tomorrow. Seven o'clock. Bring your notes. Nothing else.»
The following evening, instead of dressing for a study session, you wore a short dress, convincing yourself it looked casual enough while still drawing attention.
Your heart pounded as you stood outside his house.
After taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell.
A few moments later, the door opened.
Professor Sanvitores stood before you, dressed in a fitted black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms.
For the briefest moment, his sapphire-blue eyes flickered to your outfit before returning to your face.
His expression remained unreadable.
"You're two minutes early."
You forced a smile.
"I thought punctuality might earn me extra points."
"It doesn't."
He stepped aside.
"Come in."
As you walked inside, you finally took in his home.
It was exactly what you had expected.
Minimalistic.
Immaculately clean.
Rows upon rows of books lined the walls, interrupted only by antique paintings and a grandfather clock whose steady ticking echoed through the silence.
There wasn't a single unnecessary decoration.
Just like the man himself.
For the next hour, he explained every topic with remarkable patience.
His voice was calm.
Measured.
Every explanation was so clear that even the most complicated theories suddenly made perfect sense.
Yet you found yourself watching him more than your notes.
Audrey's words echoed in your mind.
Get closer.
So you did.
You shifted your chair a little nearer.
You let your shoulder brush lightly against his.
Crossed your legs just enough to draw his attention.
Laughed a little longer than necessary.
Finally, pretending to reach for your notebook, you allowed your hand to linger against his forearm.
Every movement was deliberate.
Calculated.
He didn't react.
Then...
He quietly closed the book.
Silence settled between you.
He looked directly into your eyes.
Not angry, not flustered...Simply disappointed.
"This kind of trick," he said evenly, "doesn't work on me."
Your smile faltered.
"I...I don't k-know... what you mean."
"You do."
His voice never rose.
"You came here to study. If that is still your intention, we'll continue."
A long pause followed.
"If not..."
He stood and walked toward the front door.
"...I'll call your father and tell him exactly why his child wasted my evening."