THE ALPHA’S ADDICTION

The interior of the professor’s office screamed wealth and ancientness. It smelled of it too. Perhaps it came with the perks of being a history lecturer. Emma thought, but discounted it immediately. She couldn’t imagine the previous history professor staying under this air of wealth and ancientness.

She could tell that the room had been repainted and refurbished, by appearance of the walls which shone with a newness quality. There were marks on the shelves that told a story of the rearrangement of books, and the discard of the some which had outlived their usefulness.

The room had a kind of musty odor, evocative of grandparents’ houses, the type that makes you feel safe and cozy, and curious; the air of mysteriousness accompanied and enhanced by the ancientness made the latter so. It was dimly lit too; as the thick brown patterned curtains were allowed to drape over the windows, shielding the room from sunlight. She deducted that the professor must be a lover of lightly lit places, like her sister.

Emma almost expected to see a wooden rocking chair in the corner, furnished with an old dilapidated cushion; and a small, coal fireplace graced one wall beneath a white, marble mantlepiece, on which danced porcelain figurines and ornaments, like that of her grandparents. But the room just had two firm chairs, like other offices would, facing the slightly big mahogany desk.

She slowly took her eyes to the walls, which housed hung portraits of long forgotten people who looked about the room with proprietorial air, some she recognized, and some, she didn’t. There were also ancient paintings on the wall; relics too.

This felt safe like a home. The professor had fashioned his office into a homely place, but with a mild touch of mysteriousness. So mild, but tangible that she couldn’t shake it off. It was like there could be an ancient trapdoor or secret pathway somewhere here.

“Are you going to keep staring?” Professor Perkins asked, snapping her out of touring mood.

“Sorry. You haven’t told me to sit yet.” She replied, dragging her gaze to meet his.

“Acting courteous, are we?” He queried rhetorically with his signatory smirk, before gesturing with his hands that she should sit on one of the chairs.

She bit her lips, preventing a scoff from escaping at the last moment, as she dropped herself gracelessly into one of the arm chairs.

The man was getting on her nerves again. Talk about trying to be civil for once. Humph. She let out, unable to stop herself, aware as she stared at him that he found her amusing.

“Why am I here?” She asked, after some minutes had passed by with her tapping her feet on the marbled floor, and her fingers on the smooth mahogany table; while her professor typed away something on his phone, reclining comfortable on his chair.

“Because I wanted you to be.” The professor replied, and she opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it, not knowing what to say that will not put her grades in jeopardy. Her mind was filled with curse words benefitting for the supervisor who has found a way to always trigger her frustration. Sadly, the words won’t see the light of the day. She thought, imagining different case scenarios where she would let her mouth run loose and damn the consequences.

“Did I do anything wrong, sir?” She finally gritted out, reining in her temper; taking in deep breaths and letting them out intermittently.

“Depends on your definition of wrong.” Professor Perkins replied, meeting her gaze with a one of his, except that his was raggle-taggled with a smirk and an amused expression.

Emma almost exploded then, finding the professor’s smirk highly infuriating. Did he call her here to play a game of words? She thought, tempted to wipe that smirk off his face with a slap for the second time today, not minding that he was her professor.

“Sir, I think you should get on with whatever you have to say to me as soon as possible. I have a part time job to get to.” She stated harshly, unable to keep the irritation off her voice any longer.

“Oh, I see.” He said slowly, his eyes appraising her by the passing second.

She was beginning to get uncomfortable just sitting there, while he stared at her like she was a relic in the museum.

She was about to venture out another comment, when he started saying something. Perhaps, he must have perceived that she was about to tell him off this time around. She thought, obviously tired of his gimmicks.

“Today was my first time of seeing you in class. Where have you been?” He asked, sitting up properly on his lofty arm chair, his hands stretched flatly on the desk.

“Today is also my first time of seeing you in class. Where have you been? …sir?” She asked, deciding to pay him back in his own coin, chipping in the sir, as if it was an afterthought, a smirk finding its way on her lips as she saw him huff in annoyance.

“Miss Drackson…” He called.

“Yes…” She answered sweetly, too sweetly, that the professor scoffed.

“You don’t want to go down that way.” He said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Emma mused, as she pondered on how fast the man had shifted his mood from that of annoyance to amusement.

Jerk. She screamed; inside her head of course, deciding to keep silent, until he asked the question again, which she was sure that he would ask.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“So…?” He said, expecting her to answer his previous question.

“Nothing really. I had been sick. So, I took the time off to rest and recover.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“I see… sick for more than two weeks. It must be bad.” He muttered, more to himself, than to her, although still loud enough to be heard normally.

“Miss Emma Drackson…” He said suddenly with a deep enthralling and enchanting voice which Emma found hard to resist or ignore. She felt her head nodding at his call, almost against her will.

“You will tell me why you have been absent from classes now.” He stated, looking deep into her eyes unwaveringly.