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Prosper

“It’s been a whole week since I last saw you. Don’t play with me, son. You’re never too old to get your ass kicked. Come by the house so mama can lay eyes on you.”

As I maneuvered through the college building, I chuckled, listening to my voicemail. My T lady was something else. I made a mental note to get my ass over to her crib before she made good on her word. When the Queen issued a command, compliance was non-negotiable.

After locking my screen, I tucked my phone into my coat pocket and prepared to rush to my last class of the day. I was running about five minutes late due to talkin’ to my patna in the hallway. But when I rounded the corner, a familiar face halted me in my tracks.

It was my statistics professor, Ms. Mosley, just exiting the ladies' restroom. And as always, despite her polished appearance, she was disheveled. Her head was down, her nose buried in a tissue she had obviously grabbed in the restroom.

“You straight, Ms. Mosley?” I called out, making my presence known.

Startled, she looked up. “Prosper, hi. I... I am good.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” I narrowed my gaze at her bloodshot eyes. “Looks to me like you been crying.”

“Oh, no. Allergies.” She laughed nervously. “Just my allergies acting up this morning. That’s all.”

“You said that last month.” I pointed out.

One day last month, after she dismissed the class, I returned to ask a question about a homework assignment, only to find her in tears and the same excuse spilling from her lips.

“And I noticed this a few other times.”

“Other times?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded. “One time was when you were walking to your car in a black pantsuit. The time after that, you were passing through the lobby, wearing jeans and Red Bottom pumps. The red on the bottom of them muthafuckas matched your lipstick perfectly. I’ll never forget that shit.”

There were a few more times I’d noticed, but I wouldn’t dare mention those. Didn’t want to frighten her pretty ass with my stalking.

“I’m sure a well-educated woman like you knows that if your allergies are bothering you this much, it’s time to see a doctor for some medication.”

For a while, an awkward silence hung between us until she broke it, deflecting.

“You're late getting to class, Prosper.”

“I am. My apologies, beautiful.” I countered, maintaining steady eye contact. But she didn’t. She broke my gaze—always did. It was also something I peeped over time.

Taking a deep breath, Ms. Mosley smiled. However, I knew it was a facade, one she reserved for the classroom, pretending everything was fine when it was clear she was struggling beneath the surface.As much as I studied her through passing, I knew the real. A nigga was obsessed.

“Please get to class, Mr. Shakur. I already have everyone taking notes. By the time I get back, they should be done. But you won’t be if you keep standing here.”

We fell into silence once more, my gaze drifting over her figure, admiring the way her fitted pantsuit accentuated her small curves. I never made an effort to conceal my attraction to her. Shit had been impossible to do since I started her class.

Ms. Mosley cleared her throat, a cue for me to concentrate on what she deemed more important. Yet in my mind, nothing could overshadow her significance. I couldn’t care less about those notes right now. In fact, I was more so wondering how her pussy tasted. Still, I made sure to give her the respect she commanded… the respect she deserved. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze from her hips and looked her in the eye.

“I’ll give you a few more minutes to get there and prepare. These notes are important, and I wouldn’t want you to fall behind and fail my upcoming test. It plays a significant role in your overall grade.” She fixed me with a firm look.

I smirked, realizing she was pulling rank on me. “Will do, Ms. Mosley. Will do.” With that, I walked toward the elevator.

A few minutes later, I reached the classroom and quickly jotted down notes from the information on the board, which included key concepts. We were set to analyze data sets that could influence decision-making across various fields, from business to healthcare. This was especially crucial for me as I was aiming to change my lifestyle and elevate the clothing line I had started.

I made a promise to my grandmother on her deathbed to break the generational curse that seemed to afflict the men in the family. My promise to her was over two years ago. It took me a while to grieve after her passing. Plus, I had gotten into some trouble with the law. But once I was good, I got my shit together and found a manufacturing company.

Now, I was ready to take my vision to the next level. I planned to open a store, but first, I wanted to earn my degree to acquire the knowledge necessary to run a business effectively. Using my street credibility to sell my merchandise and managing a retail store were two completely different realms. If shit went well, I would open more locations.

By the time Ms. Mosley arrived, I had finished my notes and was ready for her lecture. As I expected, she had used the time I had to jot down the notes to pull herself together. There was no sign of her earlier distress. She had pulled her hair into a high bun, reapplied her lipstick, and switched from her contacts to her eyeglasses, perched on the bridge of her nose. And I was mesmerized all over again.

She had that timeless 90s kind of beauty. Short as fuck, slim yet curvy, with full lips and dark hair that gracefully hung down her back. Everything on her was real. From the hair on her head to that small round ass she carried behind her. Even her nails were natural—short and painted creamy white.

Another thirty-five minutes of engaging in classroom debate and class finally came to an end. I’d be lying if I said I was ready to leave though. I could see the front Ms. Mosley put up for the past hour beginning to crumble, and I was certain she’d be back in tears by the time we left. Call me crazy, but I hated the thought of leaving her like that. Whatever she had going on these last few months was really getting to her today.

Once we were dismissed, I stepped out but lingered around, making sure the area was clear of other students and faculty. It took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth the wait. Knowing we were her last class of the day, I rounded the corner and quietly slipped back into the classroom.

Ms. Mosley was distracted, her back turned to the board as she cleared her elegant handwriting and engaged in a low conversation on the phone.

“Sis, I know it hurts. But make no mistake that this is his loss. You deserve so much better.”

The room was so quiet that I could hear the voice on the other end of the line, catching just the tail end of the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s just… hearing about it is one thing but to see it messed me up all over again. Not gonna lie.” Ms. Mosley whispered. “I’m going to pull myself together though.”

Interrupting, I cleared my throat, and she spun around on her heels.

“Steph, let me call you back. One of my students just stepped in.” She quickly swiped away her tears.

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you too, sis.” After the call ended, she turned her attention to me. “Prosper Shakur… you keep sneaking up on me. How can I assist you this time?”

I took a seat at the front of her class, in a chair usually occupied by a quirky chick who just had to be up close to catch every detail.

“To let me mend that broken heart of yours.” I responded, tired of keeping that shit bottled up.

“Excuse me?” She snatched off her eyeglasses, her perfectly arched brows clashing at the center of her forehead.

“If you can fix those pretty ass lips to say ‘excuse me,’ it means you heard me, Ms. Mosley.”

She shook her head as if she were dreaming before tilting it to the side. I’m sure she was double-checking that we were alone, and no one was approaching.

“Mr. Shakur, I don’t know what has gotten into you. But I suggest you cut it out and head right back out that door. And I’ll pretend like I didn’t just hear you say that to me.”

“Or what?” I challenged as I made my next move.

I rose from the seat and walked over to her desk, sitting on the edge to close the annoying ass gap between us.

Three months.

Thirteen long ass weeks.

That’s how long I’d been struggling in this fuckin’ class, fighting to control my urges for her. Today , my suffering would come to an end.

“You gon’ report me? Tell these niggas I’m harassing ya? 'Cause I ain’t going nowhere until you understand that I want you as more than my professor.”

“Listen—"

“Nah, you listen. I been on this earth for twenty-five years and I ain’t never in my life met a woman as beautiful as you. I wanna take you out, Ms. Mosley.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No ma’am, I got all my good senses.”

Saying fuck it, I lifted my hand to her pretty face and strummed the redness of her cheeks with the tip of my thumb. And I noticed the breath escaping her lips, a silent release of the emotions she attempted to contain the moment she discovered I had returned to class. She was hurtin’—broken. But I was determined to be the glue that pieced her back together. Transforming that temporary smile into something lasting.

After a while, Ms. Mosley removed my hand and took a step back, as if the reality of the moment had hit her hard and she realized she shouldn’t be this close to me. Her eyes broke from mine and darted around the room nervously.

“P…prosper, I don’t want to have to report you. Bringing down a black man in a world that’s already stacked against him has never been my thing, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nodded slowly, loving her response. She had me hypnotized by the way she spat that shit. “I hear that, beautiful.”

She bristled at the compliment.

“So, please show me the same courtesy. This is my career… my livelihood. If someone overhears you speaking to me like this or sees you being this close, they could misinterpret things and report it. That could be disastrous for me. The rumors, the gossip… it could all destroy my reputation. All my years of hard work flushed down the drain because a lie always sounds better than the truth. Do you want to do that to me?”

I hesitated, biting down on my bottom lip. No doubt, I expected her to fight me on this. However, I did not prepare for her to respond with such intelligence. Ms. Mosley was lethal—both physically and mentally.

What I really wanted to say was… fuck this job. If she lost it, I had no problem with taking care of her for the rest of her life. You see, I had marked her as mine at this very moment, and being mine meant that working was a choice, not an obligation. Unfortunately, I knew she wouldn’t be receptive to that, so I held back.

“Nah, the feeling is mutual. I wouldn’t wanna bring any harm to ya, beautiful.”