Page 1 of Hidden Intentions (Quick Bites: MM Short Stories #3)

Kevin

First fucking rule for impressing a crush: don’t mess up.

And if you do mess up, fucking fix it.

I walked down another long corridor of the business school’s faculty building, searching for Room N47. I could swear I’d been going in circles for the past five minutes. Every hallway was the same endless stretch of white doors and blue-black carpet. Fucking hell. Was this place designed to mess with people?

Okay, I’d admit, I didn’t exactly frequent the faculty building. The farthest I’d ever ventured was the administration office on the first floor when I’d had to register for classes or drop off assignments.

I’d definitely never been to a professor’s office before.

I should’ve checked the building map at the entrance before coming up, but whatever. Can’t go back now . I was already running late for my appointment, and this wasn’t a meeting I could afford to be late to.

I turned another corner, went down yet another long hallway, and voilà! There it was. Room N47, tucked in the corner between a wall and a staircase like it didn’t want to be found. I would’ve walked right past it had I not been looking closely. The black numbers stood out against the wall beside the door, and beneath them was a polished stainless-steel plaque inscribed with the name Dr. Matthew Parker in elegant cursive.

A sudden wave of nerves hit me, tying my stomach in knots and making my throat go tight.

I took a deep breath and gave myself a mental shake.

This wasn’t like me; I didn’t get nervous—ever. But now my heartbeat picked up like a drumroll, and my palms started to sweat a little.

Why the hell did it matter so much? I clenched my hands into fists, willing the nerves to subside, and took another deep breath.

You already messed up impressing your crush once. Time to fix it.

That was about half the purpose of today’s visit. I needed to make sure I was making the impression I wanted.

Especially when that crush was the man behind that door.

Figured it was only natural I’d be this nervous. He was the only one capable of throwing me off rhythm and turning my insides into a tangled mess.

From the moment I first saw him walking through the lecture halls of the business school, I knew I had to have him. I was in my second year then and might as well have been a shadow flitting past to him. He never noticed me. Not even when I lingered in the hallways, or walked a little slower when I knew he was near. There was even a time during my third year, where I managed a quiet “Hi,” but he didn’t even glance up from the phone in his hand.

But I couldn’t let it end there. I refused to be invisible to him.

So I did what I had to do.

I switched majors from marketing to business management so I could qualify to take business law as an elective. There were only two professors who taught that course, and Professor Parker was one of them. It was a high-stakes bet, but hey, it paid off in the end. When I found out he was going to be my professor this semester, therefore officially off limits, my feelings only grew stronger.

I had to have Professor Matthew Parker. I absolutely had to.

And today was my last chance to really make it happen.

I know. It wasn’t exactly “appropriate” to want your professor like that, but... whatever. You only live once, right? And there had always been something about the forbidden that made me rise to the challenge.

It also helped that he was pretty much exactly my type.

Men like him, soft-spoken and shy, always careful with their words, and too fucking proper with their clean-cut style, were always different in bed. Men like him were my type to a T.

I was like a shark when it came to spotting them, honestly. It was easy to find them in a crowd, and I’d make my move as soon as I found them.

It was always worth it.

They were either the craziest tops or even crazier bottoms.

I wondered which one Professor Parker would be.

Considering I didn’t mind either, it made me want to unravel the man even more. Watching him behind the lectern whenever he taught had my cock going rigid in my pants and made me lose my concentration on whatever it was he was teaching. I mean, how was I supposed to stay focused when all I could do was watch his every move?

I even attended all my classes because of him, though I hadn’t been known as a regular class-goer before in my four years at Vanes University. I only went to listen to him speak and watch him like the creep I was. It was easier to fantasize when he was so close, and to imagine all the sinful ways I wanted to break that prim and proper shell around him.

Oh, my Professor Parker is so fine he could put a posh English gentleman to shame. The black hair, the obsidian eyes, the clean-shaven jawline, the impeccable way he carried himself... and oh, the rules.

Professor Parker was a stickler for following the rules, and sometimes I wonder when I became such a good boy for him. No missed classes, no late assignments, no phone use in class. Hell, this man had me bending all my fucking rules for him.

But my obsession had finally come to bite me in the ass. Here I was, standing in front of his office, about to plead my case over a major assignment I failed.

Very not impressive.

The assignment had seemed easy until I got into it and realized I should have listened better, or at least kept notes in the classes. My obsession with the teacher was clear, but my comprehension of the material was muddy at best.

I tried everything prior to this. I really did. I even went through the course material, but it didn’t help. Maybe I should have gone for tutoring, but whatever.

Unless the tutor was a certain prim and proper professor, I didn’t want it anyway.

I raised my hand to knock, but noticed the door wasn’t fully shut. It was open a crack, as if someone had meant to shut it but hadn’t quite followed through.

“Professor Parker?” I called before giving the door a slight nudge. I could already feel the blood rushing to my cock and I hadn’t even seen his face yet. Just the thought of being in the same space as him was making my body go haywire. Out of control.

“Professor?” I peeped through the crack. The movement made him startle in his seat behind the desk as he lifted his head from the book he was reading, eyes looking a little caught off guard.

“Oh, come in.”

I opened the door wide and stepped into the room. It was a small space. The navy-blue wallpaper made the room appear darker than it should on a Friday afternoon, and the contrast of that oak-wood desk with the blue was visually jarring. However, the man in the black turtleneck stood out like an anomaly—a good kind—the only exquisite piece in this rather dreary office.

He looked good, as always, even for a professor.

I must have stared for more than a second, because a tiny frown formed between his brows, making me even more conscious of being this close to him. I always wanted to be this close to him, but the setting was not the one I’d hoped for.

“Mr. Harding?” His voice was a low rumble that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Among other things.

I cleared my throat. “Ah, yes sir.”

He hummed, staring at me and tilting his head. He nodded toward the chair in front of his desk, urging me to take a seat as he pulled out a folder from the left desk drawer. My name was scrawled across the front. Wait... professors kept files on their students? I didn’t know that. For a moment there, he’d had me thinking he found me fascinating enough to dedicate an entire folder to me. I knew that wasn’t the case, but a guy could only dream.

I sat down, dropping my backpack next to me on the carpeted floor. Being this close, I could smell the woody notes with hints of vanilla he was wearing, and a scent that was inherently him.

I wanted to bottle it and bathe in it. That smell was intoxicating.

A heavy silence settled between us as he flipped through the papers in the folder with those thin, perfectly manicured fingers. I shifted in the cushioned chair, not because the chair was uncomfortable, but to adjust myself. My pants were starting to feel a bit too tight, and I blamed the cologne he was wearing for that.

His brows drew together in a slight crease as he looked at the papers. “How can I help you, Mr. Harding?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the policy analysis assignment,” I said. I want to make sure you don’t think I’m a complete idiot, because I’m obsessed with you and I want you to like me.

I didn’t say that part, of course.

He didn’t even look up, eyes fixed on whatever he was reading. “What about it?”

“My grade, sir, I’m not sure how that happened.”

His lips turned down at the corners. “You have regular attendance in my classes. You come early enough to sit right in the middle, not too far back and not too close to the front. I make it a point to observe all my students to ensure they’re fully engaged in my class, and I’ve noticed that you’re always extremely focused. In fact, I was convinced you had to be one of my top students, simply based on the fact that you’re one of the most engaged.”

I swallowed, hearing the disappointment in his voice as he spoke to me.

It bothered me, that disappointment. I mean, I couldn’t change the fact that my academic performance was, across the board, mediocre at best. I knew my strengths, and school wasn’t one of them. I was just an average student, terrible at my courses, and I would’ve skipped most of his classes just like all my other ones if I wasn’t so into him. But now I was in deep shit.

I was hoping my attendance and the way I focused in class would earn me some kind of recognition.

But it wasn’t working. Clearly, this wasn’t the way to get him into my bed, not when I couldn’t even impress him enough to be the teacher’s pet.

Professor Parker looked up at me, meeting my eyes. “Mr. Harding, not only have you never scored above average in a test, but you also failed this assignment. You realize it’s worth fifty percent of your final grade, right?”

“Yes sir. That’s why I’m here. There is something we can do about it, though, right?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I could do it again and send it to you. Give me a deadline and I’ll get on with it,” I replied, flashing my best smile.

His eyes flickered to my lips for a split second, but I caught it. I always caught it when he did that, especially in class. The way he’d glance over to wherever I was sitting during lectures, like he couldn’t help himself. How he only paced the aisle where my desk was, his eyes trailing over my face when he walked past. The flush that colored his cheeks when our gazes locked, even for the briefest second. And man, the vibe between us when I handed him my paper assignments? Intense. Like the air got heavier or something. One time, our fingers brushed, and I swear I heard a sound slip from his mouth. I called them micro shows , the subtle clues he left that had me convinced this man felt something for me. Wouldn’t call it love or infatuation, but definitely, definitely ... something.

Something that I desperately wanted to explore.

He cleared his throat, shook his head, and smiled, the same bright, polished smile he’d flash after lectures when students swarmed his desk with questions. But this time, I could tell from that smile he wasn’t going to hear me out about redoing this assignment.

“Here is what we’re going to do, Mr. Harding.” He handed me a sheet of paper from the folder. “Take this paper. Give it a good read, fill it out, and then send it to the head of department.”

My brow furrowed as I read the header. A course withdrawal form?

My stomach did a little flip, but I kept my expression even... casual.

Fucking hell .

“I assume you’re familiar with the process?” he asked.

I took my time glancing over words I didn’t want to read. So, Professor Parker had already decided my fate, huh? I wasn’t worth saving, huh? Not even worth a second chance?

I placed the form back on his desk, ignoring whatever was going on in my pants. This man was being a dick to me? Why the hell would he do that?

“You want me to withdraw from the class? Why?”

“It’s not about what I want, Mr. Harding. The problem is your grades. You’re failing the class. With the late-semester deadline to drop classes coming up, I thought I should talk to you about your performance. My class isn’t for all students, and you don’t need it to meet your degree requirements.”

No way. Absolutely not. “But this is my final semester. I have good attendance, and I’ve taken the tests and done my assignments on time.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “You’re barely scraping by in this class, Mr. Harding. Even if you ace all your upcoming assignments and the final exam, it won’t be enough to pass since you failed this assignment. I think you should retake the class, perhaps in the summer semester, or take another elective that’s less challenging for you. I’ve checked your records, and your GPA is one point eight. You need a two point oh if you plan to graduate this year, but if you fail my class, you won’t be able to make that...” He trailed off, giving me a look that said my chances were doomed already.

“It doesn’t look like you’ll have enough points to reach the minimum GPA to graduate, even if you don’t drop the class. If you keep going in my class, your GPA will only get worse.”

God.

How could he say these harsh words with that gorgeous face? I couldn’t drop the class even if I wanted to. My dad would never let me hear the end of it. He already had enough ammunition for his lectures about my lack of discipline, and dropping this class would just be handing him another loaded gun. Plus, we’d already made plans that I’d intern at one of the international branches of his insurance firm in the UK when I completed my studies this year. Changing that would be quite problematic. Aside from all that, if I was being honest, it was just too embarrassing for me. Hell, I didn’t think I was doing that badly academically, and I hadn’t expected to fail this paper.

One point eight?

Man . . .

“Sir, I cannot drop this class.” I stared him dead in the eyes... pleading... asking for another chance to get things right. It wasn’t like I hadn’t even done the assignment. Okay, I did rush through it last-minute, but I did something, and I wasn’t expecting to receive a fail for it.

“Looking at me like that won’t change anything,” he said, his voice a soft tone that made me want to hear him beg with it.

“Sir—”

“I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be fair. You’re not the only student who failed this assignment, though your case is unique since you’re the only one currently failing the class.”

“Then that makes it even simpler, Professor, since it’s only me who’d have to retake it. No one has to know.”

He gave me an incredulous look as he gathered all the papers in the folder into one pile. “That’s breaking a lot of rules, Mr. Harding. And if I start making exceptions, where does it stop? If I let you redo your assignment, then I have to let every student who failed any of my assignments do the same. There’s a reason these policies exist. They ensure fairness... for everyone.”

Eesh . So fucking proper, so goddamn disciplined. It made me want to get under his skin and make him go wild.

I wet my lips, watching his gaze track the movement. Another micro show. He was clearly attracted to me, yet he wanted me out of his class... away from him.

“You’re not even going to let me try?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but dammit, I wasn’t about to just roll over and take this. Not after everything I did to be in this class. Not after the lengths I’d gone to to make him notice me. And now he wanted me to give up the class?

It was as if he was telling me to give him up, and I just couldn’t have that.

Hell, this was only making me more curious about him, because now more than ever, I wanted to know the man behind this mask of a professor.

“I can fix it. Give me another assignment, or let me retake it. Anything. Please”

His throat moved in a swallow and for a moment, it seemed he might be considering it.

“I... I can’t. You had your chance. I gave everyone enough time for this assignment.”

Frustration began to take over. “You can’t do this. I have good attendance and I passed the tests. Why should I withdraw from the class when we only have five weeks left? Just let me do the fucking assignment and get this over with.”

“I do not accept such language in my space—”

“Well, I’m sorry for cursing in your space, but one assignment shouldn’t ruin my life! I can’t drop the fucking course. My graduation is right around the corner and this would push me back one semester. You can’t do this.” It cannot end like this.

“As your professor, who has watched and interacted with all his students, I think this is in your best interest. I can’t just have you redo the assignment when you barely even know what the course was about.”

“I . . . You . . .”

“Yes, Mr. Harding?”

I wanted to wipe that little smile off his face. I looked down at the form once again and felt the pang in my chest increasing. This couldn’t be the way this ended. There had to be a way to get around the whole thing, but Professor Parker was being a dick about it. This wasn’t just about me impressing my crush anymore.

It was also about my entire future.

I hated it, the crawling feeling in my throat like I was about to lose something. And I’ve never lost anyone I set my eyes on.

I swallowed, staring up at him. “Professor Parker, please. I just need one more chance.”

“A chance for what?”

To impress you, dammit! And to graduate this year. And to be near you.

My mind spun. “I can redo the assignment. I might be an average student, but I can do it and get it right this time. Please, Professor.”

Hell. I’d get on my knees if he wanted. It wasn’t my preferred position, but I’d do anything at this point.

Professor Parker met my gaze, a stoic expression washing over his face as he shook his head with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Harding. The only choice you have is to drop the class and retake it next semester.”

Ugh!

I didn’t mean to, but in my frustration, I slammed my hands on the desk, making Professor Parker jump in his seat.

His eyes shaped into round globes and his nose flared.

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry, Professor—”

He stood abruptly, rounding the desk to stand next to my seat with a swiftness that made my pulse race. He snatched the withdrawal form from his desk and shoved it against my chest.

“Get out of my office. Now.”

Shit. I’d pissed him off.

I held his gaze, gripping the form as I rose, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I should’ve walked straight to the door, left with my head down like a good student—like his good boy—but something in me refused to back down. Some reckless instinct had me turning to face him instead.

The movement brought me closer than I realized. Too close. My chest bumped against his.

His breath hitched. I caught it again—the slight parting of his lips, the faint flush creeping over his cheeks. My pulse quickened, a low heat stirring in places it shouldn’t.

His gaze slid to my mouth, and his tongue flicked out for the briefest second to wet his lips.

“Out,” he repeated, the bite in his voice gone. It came out softer now, almost shaky.

I tilted my head to the side, watching him watch my mouth. “You really want to get rid of me that bad?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. Just enough for me to see the flicker of something behind his eyes. Regret? Frustration?

Want?

He cleared his throat. “This isn’t personal, Mr. Harding.”

It is for me. “I’m not filling out the form, sir.”

He swallowed. Hard. Eyes flicking up to meet mine before dropping back to my mouth.

What is your obsession with my mouth, Professor?

For one wild second, I thought about leaning in, just to see what he’d do. To see if that heat in his gaze would translate into something more.

He must have sensed my intentions because he took a step back, his chest heaving rapidly as if he’d just sprinted a mile. He spun on his heel, rushing to the door and yanking it open with such force that the hinges creaked.

“Leave, Mr. Harding.”

I let out a soft chuckle. Why did he run from me like that? Were the micro shows a little too obvious this time, huh, Professor ? I walked toward the door, pausing in the doorway as my eyes met his one last time.

“See you in class on Monday, Professor.”