Page 21 of The Naughty Professor

Chapter Nineteen

Felix

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Dr. Sterling,” Juniper said, “but if this thing starts glowing again, I’m running for the hills.”

“It’s supposed to glow,” I said. “That blue luminescence indicates molecular stability.”

“Uh-huh.” She tilted her head. “And if it glows more, that indicates we’re about to meet Jesus?”

“Less sarcasm, more stirring, please.”

She sighed and picked up the glass rod. “You know, normal people unwind after work with Netflix, not self-experimentation.”

“I’m not normal people.”

“Clearly.” She paused, eyes flicking to the swirling blue in the flask. “You really think this version will last longer?”

“It should. I replaced the temporary bonding agent with a polymerized—”

“English, Dr. Sterling.”

“It means it will hold together.”

She gave a small, nervous laugh. “Right up until it doesn’t.”

I tried not to smile. Juniper’s snark had always been my favorite form of background noise; it kept me human. But underneath her jokes was fear, and I could feel it tightening the air.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said.

“That you’re insane?”

“That you want to see if it works.”

Her mouth twitched. “You’re really going to stick that in your arm, aren’t you? Great. I’ll queue up another round of ‘How Not to Panic When Your Boss Stops Breathing.’”

I adjusted the flame instead of answering. The serum deepened from sky blue to cobalt.

Juniper groaned. “You’re really going to do it.”

“It’s the only way to know if the stabilization holds.”

She leaned back against the counter, folding her arms. “Or, wild idea, we could find someone else to test it.”

“I can’t ask someone else to take that risk.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

I looked up at her. “Both.”

Her expression softened for a heartbeat, then she turned away to grab the data tablet. “You’ve got a death wish, Dr. Sterling.”

I smiled faintly at that. “It’s not a death wish. It’s a hypothesis.”

“Yeah, one where you’re both the control and the variable.” She tapped the tablet, data flickering across her black-lacquered nails. “I’m logging the temperature curve. You know, for when the coroner asks.”

“You worry too much,” I said, though my heart was thudding.

“You worry too little,” she shot back. “You don’t even have a proper medical monitor hooked up. You’re just going to—what?—stab yourself and hope for the best?”

“I’m not hoping,” I said. “I’m measuring.”

The serum let out a small hiss as the reaction calmed. The blue light steadied into a perfect, liquid pulse. It was beautiful—steady, sure, almost serene.

Juniper watched it, arms crossed, her eyeliner catching the light like a razor’s edge. “It’s hypnotic,” she murmured. “I kind of hate it.”

“It’s finished,” I said. “Look at that clarity.”

“It’s too clear. Like it’s daring you to ruin your life.”

“Hand me a sterilized syringe, please.”

She didn’t move. “Dr. Sterling…”

“Juniper.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

She hesitated, then reached for the tray, pulling a sealed syringe from its wrapper with a snap. “You know what? I’m not even going to try to stop you. Just…don’t die. You’re the only boss who buys me decent coffee.”

“Duly noted,” I said, forcing a smile.

I filled the syringe slowly. The serum coiled inside the glass like a living thread of light. It looked alive—and in a way, it was. My pulse matched its rhythm.

Juniper leaned on the counter, studying me. “He must’ve really gotten under your skin.”

I didn’t pretend not to understand. “He did.”

She nodded once, quietly. “Then at least let this be about you, not about him.”

“I don’t know how to separate the two,” I said.

She exhaled, a sound somewhere between annoyance and sympathy. “Fine. Inject your romantic-chemical-suicide cocktail. Just give me a head start to grab the defibrillator.”

“You’re a terrible nurse.”

“Yet here I am.”

I rolled up my sleeve. The lab felt suddenly too quiet, the hum of the ventilation hood like distant thunder. “Ready?”

“No,” she said. “But you are.”

I pressed the needle into the vein. The serum burned cold, racing up my arm like electricity. For a heartbeat the world went crystalline—every sound sharper, every breath brighter. Then the heat followed, flooding my chest.

“Dr. Sterling?” Juniper’s voice sounded far away. “Hey—hey, talk to me—”

The counter swam out of focus. The floor tilted.

I felt my body folding, weightless, falling.

“Goddamn it,” Juniper said, somewhere above me.

Blue light filled my vision, blooming behind my eyelids, and then the world blinked out.

* * *

When the world came back, it was electric.

First came sound—the hum of the ventilation system, the faint clink of glassware, and the sharp inhale of someone hovering way too close. Then light. Blinding. Every color burned hotter, every edge gleamed sharper, like the universe had switched from dial-up to fiber optics.

“Dr. Sterling?”

Juniper’s voice wobbled like she wasn’t sure if she should call 911 or an exorcist.

I blinked up at her. Black lipstick. Razor eyeliner. Tiny silver hoop glinting in her nose. I’d never noticed the green in her eyes before—like a witch judging me for touching her cauldron.

“Juniper,” I said—or tried to. What actually came out was a low, velvety drawl that could sell whiskey or sin. “Hey there, trouble.”

She froze. “Okay. No. Absolutely not. Who the hell are you?”

I pushed myself upright, the air vibrating around me. My body hummed like it had finally remembered what it was made for.

“I’m me,” I said, grinning. “Just... upgraded.”

Juniper took a step back. “Oh, no. You’re giving ‘mad scientist meets Vegas residency’ vibes right now.”

I laughed—a deep, confident sound that did not belong to Felix Sterling, mild-mannered chemistry professor. “Relax, sweetheart. You look like you’re about to throw holy water at me.”

“I might,” she shot back. “Depends on if your head starts spinning.”

I stood, kicked off my tragic loafers, and shrugged out of my lab coat. The gray dress shirt underneath clung to me like it owed me money. I peeled it off without thinking.

Juniper yelped and spun around. “Sir! This is a workplace, not Magic Mike’s lab division!”

“Is it?” I stretched, feeling liquid strength roll through me. “Because it feels like a rebirth. My soul has been reborn into the man I should be.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “New age bullshit. It’s worse than I thought.”

I unzipped my ugly slacks, pulled them down, and kicked them aside.

“Not bullshit,” I said, smiling. “It’s the truth.”

She whipped back around, face pink. “Jesus! Your pants! Dr. Sterling—”

“Call me Jax.” The name rolled off my tongue like it had always been waiting. “Felix is off-duty.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh my God. As in Badlands Jax? I saw the video. You were—uh—”

“Incredible?”

“Mostly naked,” she said, lips twitching. “Grinding on strangers like rent was due.”

“That’s called confidence, darling.”

“That’s called public indecency!”

I grinned. “Funny. The crowd loved it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” she said—then burst into a laugh. “Okay, fine, maybe I watched it a few times.”

“Girl, you and Ron were enjoying the hell out of my video during class. You sure you weren’t just admiring the craftsmanship?”

“You don’t even make eye contact at faculty mixers,” she said between giggles. “And suddenly you’re the gay Elvis of Badlands?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” I teased, stepping closer until she bumped into the lab table. “You wanted proof the serum worked. Exhibit A.” I threw in a set of jazz hands worthy of a curtain call.

Her gaze darted to the syringe. “You weren’t supposed to inject prototypes! We have to monitor your vitals!”

“Boring.”

“Necessary!”

“Necessary is a construct.”

“You’re literally a walking talking science experiment.”

“And yet, I’ve never felt more human.”

She groaned. “This version of you needs a warning label.”

“Flammable,” I said. “Or maybe ‘Handle with Care?’”

“More like ‘Run for Cover.’”

I caught my reflection in the window. I didn’t look different—same face, same body—but the posture was new. Felix always looked like he was apologizing for taking up space. Jax didn’t apologize for anything.

Behind me, Juniper’s tone softened. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I feel alive.”

She made a face. “I hate this.”

“You love this.”

She sighed. “Maybe a little.”

Then the phone buzzed.

“Don’t answer that,” she warned. “You need rest. Data collection—”

Too late. I pressed speaker. “Talk to me.”

“Jax, baby!” a man’s voice boomed. “It’s Randy from Badlands! You got a sec?”

I grinned. “For you, sugar? Always.”

“We’ve got an emergency. Main performer’s out with the flu, and that video of you? Viral. We want you back tonight!”

“Can I?” I said. “Honey, I was born for encores.”

Juniper smacked her forehead. “You did not just say that.”

Randy was still talking. “Also, management wants to make it permanent. Weekends. You in?”

“Permanent?” I smiled. “Tell them to get my lighting cue ready.”

“You’re a lifesaver! Eight o’clock, same slot!”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

The line clicked off. I was still smiling when Juniper said, “Tell me you didn’t just agree to that.”

“I didn’t agree,” I said. “I accepted destiny.”

“You’re not stable! Oh my God, what if something bad happens to you?”

“Stable? So what. Neither’s my dating life. Never stopped me before.”

She threw her hands up. “You’re insane!”

“I’m liberated.”

“You’re in your underwear!!”

“Liberated and half-naked!”

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You can’t go out like that!”

“Why not? I know these hideous tighty-whiteys gotta go, but I’ve got a few thongs in the car.”

“Because this is Richmond, not Chippendales-on-Campus!”

I winked. “Then I’ll be a cultural event.”

“Dr. Sterling!”

“Jax.”

She jabbed a finger toward the coat rack. “At least wear something.”

Another lab coat hung there, pristine and pure. The irony made me laugh. “A lab coat? You’re adorable.”

“Yes, really! If you’re gonna destroy your reputation, you can at least do it in uniform.”

“You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Too late.”

She glared, but her lips twitched. “Put it on, or I’m calling campus security.”

I slipped it on, rolled up the sleeves. It gaped open across my chest, which earned another exasperated sigh.

“There,” she said. “Now you just look like a deranged scientist instead of a stripper.”

“I prefer ‘visionary innovator.’”

“Yeah, well, I prefer tequila, but here we are.”

My phone buzzed again—Thorne.

Are you okay? You seemed different when I spoke to you earlier.

My fingers moved before I could think.

Hey sexy professor. Feeling fantastic. Got a new dancing gig. Badlands. Tonight. You coming? ??