• HUMAN AU •
"Miss Foster."
Grimacing, Sophie looked up, making a means to shift so her hair would cover 70% of her face. Professor Bronte stared at her through a pair of glasses far too large for his narrow face. In Sophie's opinion, he was also far too old to be teaching a class meant for agile young adults.
Not that Sophie considered herself agile.
The only reason she was taking ballroom dancing, was, in fact, because she had no idea what she wanted to do in the future. Her major changed so often her parents teased her for getting whiplash. It was ridiculous, really, that she'd chosen this course of action.
Dancing, or anything physical, was not Sophie's friend. Which was why, late on a Thursday night, she found herself seeking enough help to get a passing grade. The classroom she stood in was nearly an auditorium, large enough to house hundreds of students plus their partners.
But now, with only Sophie and her dancing instructor, the emptiness was chilling.
"I'm pairing you with Mr. Sencen," the professor said, as if reading her thoughts. "He's agreed to tutor you for free — unless you exceed more than five one-on-one lessons."
Sophie felt weak. Hour long lessons with a boy she'd never met made her stomach churn. She wondered if she'd lose her dinner before this Sencen boy even arrived.
"Where is he teaching me?" Sophie asked, locking her knees to prevent shaking. "And when?"
Professor Bronte frowned. "Wherever and whenever he's available. You are the one who's not passing my class; don't expect him to structure his own schedule around yours."
Sophie blushed. Now, more than ever, she was regretting this class. Dancing was certainly not in her future, and neither was the confidence to perform it.
"Oh! Look who's here."
Sophie refused to turn as footsteps entered the room behind her. She was facing away from the entrance, towards the professor, unable to see their visitor.
"Sorry I'm late," a deep, insanely attractive voice said behind her. It was so close to her neck that her hair stood up.
Still, she refused to turn.
"Your punctuality is not necessary," Professor Bronte said, his eyes fixed on a location just behind her. "Only Miss Foster's is."
Unable to help herself, Sophie snuck a glance at her new teacher. First her eyes settled on broad shoulders, then moved upward to study blue eyes and strong, solid cheekbones. His hair was the same blond as her own, though it was clear he spent ample amounts of time on it.
It should've been illegal for someone to look that good in a wrinkled T-shirt.
When he met her eyes for the first time, Sophie felt her knees buckle. Before she could hit the ground, though, two different voices swore. Strong arms caught her.
"Whoa," the Sencen boy said, cradling her in an embrace so incredibly warm, Sophie decided he was a furnace. "Love, you can't lock your knees — you'll pass out."
"Sorry," she whispered, struggling to stand without the help of a mere stranger.
"Don't apologize to me." He turned Sophie to face Professor Bronte, who looked ready to growl. She remembered, barely fighting a groan, that he'd taught her this logic in the past.
