Page 10 of The Naughty Professor

Chapter Nine

Jax

The first thing I noticed was the screaming.

It was loud, frantic, right in my ear.

My eyes cracked open to find a pimple-faced kid leaning over me, his breath hot with the smell of pizza. His hands clamped down on my shoulders and shook me like a rag doll.

“Dr. Sterling! Wake up!” he yelled, his voice breaking.

The world tilted. My stomach lurched. The fluorescent lights above blurred into streaks of white, and my eyelids fluttered shut again.

Somewhere through the haze I heard him scream again—long, panicked—and then the thunder of sneakers slapping against tile as he bolted for the hallway.

I groaned. My head throbbed faintly, a headache like a hangover but brighter, stranger.

My eyes fluttered open again, and this time the ceiling came into sharp focus. Harsh lights hummed overhead. The air smelled like bleach and burnt sugar.

“What the hell,” I muttered, rolling to my side. My voice sounded unfamiliar—lower, smoother. I pushed myself to my feet.

That was when I saw them: a pair of thick black-framed glasses lying on the floor.

I bent down, picked them up, and slid them onto my face. Instantly the world smeared, fuzzy and warped.

I ripped them off. Tossed them across the room. The frames clattered against a counter and skidded into the corner.

Good riddance.

I dragged a hand through my hair, exhaling. Something was buzzing under my skin.

I wandered across the lab, the soles of my shoes squeaking faintly. Rows of glassware gleamed on the benches, half-filled with chemicals that smelled sharp and metallic. My gaze snagged on the tall windows along the wall.

And I saw him.

Me.

My reflection frowned back at me from the glass. Pale skin. Wrinkled shirt. Tie hanging crooked, like it had been put on in the dark.

“Ugh,” I muttered, tugging at the fabric. “Is that me? This shirt is hideous.”

I gripped the collar, yanked, and ripped the buttons apart. The shirt came off in one sweep, the sleeves tearing at the seams. The reflection showed my chest—broad, cut, sharp with muscle that had been hidden under these rags for far too long.

Now that was better.

I spied a trashcan by the nearest desk and tossed the shirt inside.

The reflection stared back, bare-chested now. Strong, but pale. “Christ,” I muttered. “It’s like I’ve never seen the sun before.”

Then my gaze fell lower. The chinos. Baggy, beige — a crime against fashion. They bunched around my thighs, puddling awkwardly at my ankles.

“No way in hell I’m being seen in these.”

I unbuckled the belt in one swift motion and whipped it off, the leather snapping through the loops. Then I popped the top button and slid my fingers down to the zipper.

That was when the footsteps came. Thudding fast, pounding down the hall, and voices were shouting.

A second later the door burst open and a pack of students barreled inside, led by a cop with a buzz cut and a nervous grip on his flashlight.

They froze at the sight of me, half-undressed in the middle of this lab.

The pimply kid in the hoodie pointed at me with wide eyes. “I swear! He was laying on the floor! Right there!”

The others stared. One girl squinted, her cheeks turning pink. “Um… Professor Sterling?”

Sterling.

The name meant nothing to me.

I tilted my head, grinning slowly. “Don’t know him, sweetheart.”

The cop stepped forward cautiously, voice careful, like he was talking to a child. “Felix… this kid says you were passed out on the floor. Are you okay? And where are your glasses… and your shirt?”

Felix?

I blinked at him, genuinely baffled. But the cop—cute in his uniform, jaw tight, cheeks pink from running—was worth looking at.

I let my grin widen. “You worried about me, officer? Don’t be. The only thing I need is someone strong enough to pin me down.”

The students gasped, and the cop choked.

“Professor!” one boy whispered in horror. “What the hell?”

Another girl giggled nervously, her eyes darting to my chest and away again.

I rolled my shoulders, letting the muscles flex. “Relax, kids. I’m fine. Better than fine. I’ve never felt so good in my life.”

The cop frowned, concern tightening his brow. “You’re not acting like yourself, Dr. Sterling. Did you hit your head?”

“Baby, if I hit my head,” I said, stepping closer, “you’d be the first thing I’d want to see when I woke up.”

Laughter broke out, shocked and scandalized. The pimply kid turned crimson. A girl with a nose-ring fanned herself with a notebook.

The cop sighed, shaking his head. “You’d better calm your ass down with all this nasty talk, Professor. What the hell is wrong with you?”

From the hallway came the sound of clicking heels, then a figure appeared in the doorway.

She was older, but glamorous in a way that demanded attention—a tumble of bright red hair that looked too bright to be natural, but too bold to question.

Jewelry glittered at her ears, wrists, and throat, each piece catching the fluorescent lights like tiny fireworks.

She leaned against the frame, one hand planted on her hip, eyes sweeping over me in a single, devastating glance.

“Well,” she said, her voice rich with theatrical surprise. “What on earth is going on in here?”

The students shifted nervously, like they’d been caught sneaking out of class. The cop straightened, clearing his throat. “Professor Hernandez—”

So she had a name. Hernandez. Exotic, fiery, dripping in jewels like a Vegas queen.

I grinned and winked, then stepped toward her. “Now this is more like it. My very own audience.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You walk in here looking like trouble wrapped in velvet and rhinestones,” I said, raking my gaze deliberately down her shawl and up again. “What’s a man supposed to do but thank the universe?”

A boy near the back choked on his own spit. A girl clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes round.

The cop muttered something under his breath, then reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

“VCU police,” a woman’s voice announced.

“Dispatch, this is Officer Gallagher,” he said, his eyes still on me.

“Situation in the chemistry lab is under control. Dr. Sterling seems stable, but he’s…

not himself. I’ll stay on the scene until I’m certain he’s not a danger to himself or anyone else. ”

Professor Hernandez blinked once, twice, then let out a laugh that was half-disbelieving, half-delighted. “Good Lord,” she said, fanning herself with one jeweled hand. “Is this really Dr. Sterling?”

The cop muttered under his breath, “Swear to God, Lorna, it’s him, but not like I’ve ever seen him before.”

“I told you,” I said, spreading my arms, chest bare, pants still unbuttoned. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. My name’s Jax.”

“Jax?” Ms. Hernandez repeated, lips curving in amusement.

“Short for Jackpot.” I winked. “Because that’s what you just hit walking through that door, sweetheart.”

The classroom exploded—gasps, snorts, laughter muffled behind hands.

The cop scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sterling—Jesus Christ. Pull yourself together. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Embarrassing myself? I’d never felt better. Every eye was on me, everybody leaning in closer. Even the bejeweled redhead couldn’t tear her gaze away.

I rolled my shoulders again, the muscles flexing like I was posing for them, and gave them all a smile that promised exactly the kind of trouble they weren’t ready for.

Then I glanced down and saw the hideous loafers on my feet.

Brown leather, scuffed, flat like something an accountant’s corpse might wear.

“Absolutely not.”

I kicked them off, one after the other, and sent them skidding across the lab. They clattered against a filing cabinet and tipped onto their sides like dead fish.

The cop pointed at me sharply, color creeping up his neck. “The rest stays on, Professor. All you’ve got left is your pants.”

I smirked, cocking a brow at him. “Relax, Officer—what’s your name?”

“Gallagher,” he said tightly.

“Mmm, Officer Gallagher.” I drew it out, savoring it. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t strip for free.”

The students tittered, and Professor Hernandez took a step closer, bracelets jangling. “Oh, Officer Gallagher, let the poor man breathe.” Her eyes never left me. “I think he looks just fine without those dreadful clothes.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her crimson lips. She smiled slowly, like a predator. “Lord have mercy, Felix—”

“Jax,” I corrected smoothly.

“—Jax, then.” She purred the name. “You’re full of surprises. And I do like a man who surprises me.”

The room vibrated with giggles, gasps, and someone whispering, “No way this is happening.” I noticed three students in the back holding up their phones, cameras trained right on me.

One boy muttered, “This is going on TikTok.”

I turned my head just enough to give them a grin and flex my chest. “Make sure you get my good side, boys. And if you tag me, the name is Jax. J-A-X.”

The class erupted. The cop, though, wasn’t laughing. “All of you—out. Phones down now.” His voice was sharp enough to slice through the hysteria.

There were groans and protests, but the students began filing out, some still snickering, others sneaking glances over their shoulders like they couldn’t believe what they’d just witnessed. The last one out—the pimply kid—whispered, “Legend.” The cop shut the door on his way out.

The woman stepped forward, her perfume clouding the air. She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my bare chest, and smiled like a cat spotting cream.

“Well,” she said, her voice low and throaty, “someone needs to make a man out of you. And I volunteer.”

I blinked, then shook my head. “Darling, I don’t swing that way.”

For a moment she pouted, lips pushed out like she was about to scold me. Then she laughed and patted my arm with her bejeweled hand. “Figures. The sexy ones are always gay.”

I chuckled, sliding my hands into my pockets—and felt leather under my fingers. A wallet.

Curious, I pulled it free, flipped it open. A driver’s license stared back at me: Felix Arthur Sterling. Ugh. The guy’s left eye was shut, and I’d swear there was drool on his chin.

Oh, fuck. That name.

I stared at the license, my grin slipping. A memory unfurled—sweaty hands, mumbling words, dropping glassware. Years of blending into the background. The serum and the needle. That moment of fiery heat before everything went dark.

Felix.

I was Felix. Or I had been.

The sadness was sudden and heavy, a weight pressing against my ribs. Poor bastard. All those years invisible, overlooked, waiting to be noticed. I almost mourned him.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” Lorna’s voice broke through, syrupy and curious. Now I remembered her. The drama professor.

I glanced up, my grin snapping back into place. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… realizing something important.”

She tilted her head.

I jammed the wallet back into my pocket and spread my arms wide. “I’m never going to be that pathetic loser again. Felix is dead, and I’m Jax now. And oh my God…” My eyes darted down to the chinos. “I must find some new clothes.”

Lorna laughed so hard her bracelets jingled. She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe me. “You’re a damn mess.” Then she leaned in, her eyes glinting. “Lucky for you, sweetheart—I’m free this afternoon. Want me to take you shopping?”