Chapter 2 #2
At that moment, I was profoundly grateful I was sitting down.
The woman was absolutely striking; she looked less like a professor and more like a high-powered villain in a spy film.
She was wearing a fitted pencil skirt that instantly drove my pulse wild, paired with a crisp light blue shirt tucked in tight.
Her cuffs were folded up to her elbows, and she pushed them higher as she set up her laptop.
Her dark hair was tightly secured in a claw clip, with only a few deliberate strands framing her sharp, beautiful features.
I don’t think I’d breathed since she walked in.
She glanced up from her successful connection to the projector. I wasn’t surprised to realise the entire class had gone silent. We were all thinking the same thing; she gave off the distinct vibe that we’d be scolded for breathing wrong. But honestly? That was fine.
I still hadn’t managed a proper breath since I laid eyes on her.
She pulled up a PowerPoint slide displaying the heading: ‘Economics Year 1.’ Below it, in a stark, professional font, was her name. Dr. Carter.
Oh, yeah. That suited her perfectly.
She stood at the front of the class, folding her arms. My pulse quickened again as her eyes met mine for a fractional, searing second while she scanned the room.
Her heels clicked sharply as she took a couple of measured steps forward.
Her voice was clear, cutting, and carried the distinct weight of someone who never wasted a word.
“This class can be difficult for those new to the subject. For the first couple of weeks, we shall run through the baseline knowledge I expect you all to grasp before we dive into the real world of Economics.”
She began to walk through the aisles, every step purposeful, every glance laser-focused. “My name is Dr. Carter. I shall be conducting your seminars and lectures in Economics. My office time is 9:00 a.m. until 11:00 a.m., every Tuesday. You will find my office location on your portal.”
She passed our table. Every head in the room followed her movement, hanging on every syllable—me included.
“If you are late to class, do not bother turning up. If you try to sneak into my lectures late, or sign yourself in and leave early, you will be removed from this course.”
She swivelled back to the front of the classroom. She didn't ask if we understood; she didn’t need to. The universal look of raw terror on every face said enough.
I, however, was desperately fighting to hold back a smile. Damn. Okay, threaten me again.
I let a small, defiant smirk settle on my lips.
Dr. Carter returned to her laptop, her eyes flicking up to the class, seemingly satisfied with the collective response, until her gaze locked onto mine.
My stomach twisted violently as her eyes narrowed—just a fraction—before she dismissively looked back at the screen.
Well. I couldn’t tell if that was a good reaction or a bad one. But either way, I was noticed. So... good?
Dr. Carter tapped a key, and the slide changed to a dense block of text detailing the course structure. She didn't look at us, instead keeping her attention on the screen.
“This course involves three summative pieces of coursework this year,” she stated, her voice maintaining that crisp, no-nonsense rhythm.
“Each component, along with its weighting and deadline, is visible now, and, naturally, all details are available on the student portal. Your first deadline is in four weeks. I suggest you start thinking about it today.”
She scrolled through a few key administrative points—attendance policies, mandatory reading lists—dispensing essential information with the speed and precision of a rapid-fire drill.
The class was frantically scribbling notes, but I kept my pen down, already having scanned the deadlines.
I knew how to check a portal. Instead, I let my gaze linger on the sharp lines of her profile, the way her hair strained against the clip.
She was so clearly in command, and the effect was staggering.
Holly nudged me gently. “Four weeks? That's soon!”
I barely glanced at her, muttering, “It's fine. We'll manage.”
Dr. Carter clapped her hands together once—a decisive, startling sound. Every head snapped up.
“Now,” she announced, planting her hands on the podium, leaning forward slightly.
“We are going to begin. The introductory slides contain several basic concepts that those new to Economics should be familiar with. In your tables, I want you to go through the first five bullet points on the screen. Discuss them. Define them. If you cannot do that collectively, you are already behind.”
Her gaze swept the room one last time, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. “One final thing. Where you are currently sitting—that is your permanent seat for every seminar, effective immediately. If you try to move next week, you will be directed back to this spot.”
Her eyes flicked past my table, and this time, the warning felt pointed.
Permanent seat. I glanced at Holly, then at the twins, Mo and Abdul. I was stuck there, right in her sightline, with this group. A slow, private smile curled my lip. This was either going to be the worst decision of my life, or the start of something wildly distracting.
“Right,” Holly whispered to me, already turning to the twins. “I guess we need to figure out what 'Opportunity Cost' means.”
I nodded, tearing my eyes away from Dr. Carter, who was then pacing the front, waiting. My attention should have been on the textbook, but all I could hear was the click-clack of those heels.
Dr. Carter didn’t wait for us to start talking. She picked up a clipboard resting on the podium, its metal surface reflecting the projector light, and began to move methodically through the aisles. This was less an introduction and more a register for her records.
She reached our table first. She paused, her gaze fixing on Mo and Abdul, briefly noting their names before ticking them off her sheet.
She moved to Holly, offering a curt but professional nod.
She was completely no-nonsense, yet I noticed a subtle, almost academic patience in her posture—a hard line for most, but one she seemed to walk easily.