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The following days at the university were a whirlwind of lectures, assignments, and meeting new people.
However, no matter how busy I was, Professor JM lingered in the back of my mind.
Something about him was different-not just his confidence or his teaching style, but the way he seemed to hold the room in the palm of his hand.
It wasn't long before I began hearing whispers about him around campus.
"I heard he's the youngest professor here," someone said during lunch at the cafeteria.
"Yeah, but he's so strict! My friend had him last semester, and she said he doesn't tolerate late submissions."
"But have you noticed how everyone stares when he walks by?" another added, giggling.
I didn't say anything, but I couldn't deny the truth of their words. Professor JM was young, probably in his late twenties, and undeniably attractive. His sharp jawline, neatly styled hair, and tailored outfits made him stand out among the older, more traditional faculty members.
Despite his intimidating aura, I found myself looking forward to his classes. Every lecture felt like a challenge-a chance to prove myself in front of him.
---
A week later, I was seated in the library, working on a group project with some classmates from Professor JM's class. Our task was to analyze a case study on social behavior and present our findings the next day.
"Junno, you're really good at this," said Carla, one of my groupmates.
"Yeah, where'd you learn to break down concepts like that?" asked Mark, another group member.
"I just read a lot, I guess," I replied, feeling a little embarrassed by the attention.
As we wrapped up our discussion, Carla leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, Junno, you've had a conversation with Professor JM, right?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah, why?"
"Is it true he's cold and distant? People say he doesn't really connect with students."
I thought about her question. Was Professor JM distant? He certainly had a formal demeanor, but there were moments-like when he smiled faintly after my answer in class-that suggested otherwise.
"I wouldn't say he's cold," I said finally. "He's just... professional."
Carla raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Professional, huh? Interesting choice of words."
Before I could respond, Mark chimed in. "There's a rumor that he doesn't date because of some messy breakup in the past. Apparently, that's why he throws himself into his work."
I frowned. "Where are you even hearing this stuff?"
"Campus gossip," Mark said with a shrug. "This place thrives on it."
---
The next day, I was one of the first to arrive for Professor JM's class. I sat at my usual spot in the middle row, going over my notes for the group presentation.
One by one, my classmates filtered in, and soon the room was buzzing with conversation.
As Professor JM entered, the chatter died down instantly. He walked to the front of the room, his usual confident stride on display.
"Good morning," he said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Let's start with your group presentations. Group 1, you're up."
My group was third to present. When our turn came, we stood at the front of the room, slightly nervous but prepared.
I was the last to speak, summarizing our findings and tying them back to the course objectives. As I finished, I glanced at Professor JM. He nodded approvingly, and I felt a small surge of pride.
"Good work," he said when we were done. "Your analysis was well-structured, and I appreciated the real-world examples you incorporated. Keep it up."
As we returned to our seats, Carla whispered, "Professional, huh? Looks like he has a soft spot for you."
I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore her comment.
---
After class, I stayed behind to ask Professor JM a question about the next assignment.
"Sir, do you have any recommendations for sources on social group dynamics?"
He looked up from his desk, his expression thoughtful. "There's a book by Dr. Ramos-Foundations of Behavioral Science. It's in the library's reference section. You might find it useful."
"Thank you, sir," I said, turning to leave.
"Junno," he called out, stopping me in my tracks.
"Yes, sir?"
He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I appreciate your effort in this class. It doesn't go unnoticed."
His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond.
"Thank you, sir. That means a lot," I managed to say before walking out, my heart pounding.
As I made my way across campus, I couldn't help but wonder-was there more to Professor JM than the confident, enigmatic persona he projected? And why did I feel like I was just beginning to scratch the surface?