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Awẹ́lẹ́wa ̀(Most Beautiful)

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Chapter 2

You can also start reading my other teacher-student romance book - 'Milk & Dates' ☺️



Dr Clark's eyes seem to always pierce through your soul.

The moment those Green eyes find you, you may become glued to where you are for a minute. Maybe it's just me. That's the feeling I always get.

Why did I end up having a stupid crush on this man who obviously has a strong dislike for me? I know it's not racial bias or anything that serious because I'm not the only black student in his class. Kelvin is also black.

And besides, I'm not one to easily make everything out to be about race. I wasn't brought up that way. And I'm sure Dr. Clark will never go for a woman like me. With those eyes, I'm sure he has women scurrying around him like flies. I'm not much of a relationship-seeking kind of person either.

But a girl can dream, can't she? Or in my case, daydream.

Why am I even thinking like this?

"What can I do for you, Miss Ade?"

His voice interrupts my vain thoughts.

Gosh, I must have been staring like an idiot.

I can feel my brain freeze. What were the questions again? I quickly push back some curls away from my face as I attempt to speak. Nothing seems to be coming out of my mouth. Then I watch as his brows raise in question.

Focus, Lewa! Focus!

Then I quickly say, "Yes, I have some questions, sir."

He relaxes back in his chair.

"Okay, go ahead."

I quickly reach for my backpack laying beside me on the floor as I attempt to bring out my notebook where I'd written down some questions.

But my backpack zipper is stuck.

Oh my god, please not here. Not in front of this man.

I shoot Dr. Clark a smile as I point to my backpack, a nervous set of words spilling out of my mouth,

"My - my zipper is stuck, but I do remember some of the questions, sir."

He releases what seems like a frustrated sigh, and pushes a black marker my way. I stare at the marker, and then back at his face, confused.

"Write your questions on the board over there." He instructs. And understanding dawns on me.

Dr. Clark is known for calling students out to the front of the classroom and asking them to solve questions on the white board. I remember being called out a few times last year when I first had him for the class. I didn't mind that back then.

But here in his office, with just him and me, all of a sudden I'm very conscious. Funny how I don't feel too conscious when it's the actual classroom even though my handwriting always slants when I write on the board.

"Miss Ade. I don't have all day. So if you have a lot of questions, you'll need to get started right away."

"Yes, sir." I reply as I get up and make my way to the white board, praying that my skirt isn't stuck between my butt cheeks or something.

I would just die.

I can hear the slight movement of a chair as I begin writing on the board.

He must be turned in my direction now.

Oh god.

I close my eyes shut and inhale. And exhale. Then I continue writing.

"Make that legible, Miss Ade."

Make what legible?

"Oh." I whisper as I erase what I'd written and repeat it, more legible this time.

When I'm done writing the questions I remember, I turn around slowly to face him. And I swear it seems like he quickly looks away and then faces me again.

He releases what I'll assume is a frustrated sigh as he makes his way towards me, his eyes focused on me.

"What're you doing?" He asks and I quickly blink.


He places two fingers on his forehead.

"Go sit down, please, and let me explain these."

He instructs and I stutter my response, "yes - yes, sir."

I quickly make my way to my seat and wait for him to begin.

"Aldehydes react this way -" he begins to draw the chemical structures on the board, and I have to fight to concentrate because for some reason, my eyes keep shifting to his dark brown hair and broad shoulders. Why must he always have to wear tightly-fitted shirts that seem to hug his body? Doesn't he feel the heat outside? I know professors are supposed to dress formally and all, but I'm sure there are other ways a man can be formally dressed without showcasing all his biceps and what not.

"So what will this result in?" I hear him ask.

And I begin to panic.

Oh no.

Oh god.

"Can you repeat that, sir?" I ask, buying some time. I'm not even sure about what I want him to repeat.

I'm so screwed.

"Why weren't you listening, Miss Ade?"


"I'm sorry, sir. I - I was -"

He makes his way to his desk and slams the marker on the table, and I jolt in my chair.

"Why are you wasting my time?"

Without waiting for a response, he continues, "If you're not ready to work hard or graduate, then why are you here?"

I continue to stare at him, unable to speak. But then his voice makes me shudder again.

"Answer me."

"I'm so sorry, sir. I want to do better this year." I genuinely say.

I am trying, I promise. I am trying.

"It doesn't seem like it." He says and looks away from me, raking his fingers through his hair.

He needs to not do that. That's the reason I can't focus!

"Listen," He returns his gaze to me. "If you're not ready to take my class, you can withdraw before the deadline next month so you don't fail for the second time."

Wow, he remembers me. And here I thought I didn't exist.

And as if just realizing something, panic takes over.

And I grab onto his hands.

"Sir. I'm serious about passing this time. Please. I just need help understanding the -"

His eyes travel from my face to my hands still holding his, and I gasp, quickly releasing my hands.

"I'm sorry. I - I'm sorry, sir. I didn't realize -"

"Enough with the apologies, Miss Ade." He cuts me off. And I watch as he adjusts his black tie and swallows a lump in his throat.

"You can come see me when you're ready to be serious. Please leave now."


"You heard me. Leave. Now." He sighs. "Come back when you're ready." He says, his Green eyes looking sternly at me. I quickly reach for my backpack, but drop it out of nervousness as I turn to leave. I curse silently as I bend down to pick it up, trying to calm my nerves.

At this point, I'm not thinking straight. And I'm definitely not thinking about the stabbing pain in my chest.

Why does he make me so nervous?

"Leave, Miss Ade!" He yells behind me and I quickly pick up my backpack and scurry out of his office.


"I hate my Ochem professor." I begin to vent to Cody as we sit on a bench outside the big library.

"Oh you mean you hate your crush."

Then he chuckles, and I give him the look that says 'be quiet.'

He quiets down some.

"Oh sorry I forgot we're still on campus." He quickly adds, and I sigh.

"You're just ready to go home."

"Yes, I am. You are sure right about that. It's just the first day of school and it already feels like we're in the middle of test week or something." He says. I release another sigh as I stare distantly at a group of guys and the girls who seem to be their girlfriends smiling away at themselves.

Taking a sip of his XS energy drink, Cody says, when he notices where my gaze is focused on, "And you don't really hate him. You just hate the fact that he treats you like trash."

At the sound of that, I turn to face him. Gosh I hate when he is right. He's always right. Most times.

I shake my head and stare at the sky, my arms subconsciously wrapping around my body, and my feet are tightly close together.

"You're okay?"

I nod and swallow a lump in my throat.

"Are you having -"

"No, I'm fine, I promise." I cut him off. I know what he's about to ask, and the truth is, I'm not even sure what the cause of this particular pain is. Maybe my encounter with Dr. Clark has something to do with this one?

"Let me see the questions you went to ask him." Cody's voice brings me back to reality. I turn to face him again and I can see the smile plastered on his face. I hesitate a little, knowing that I don't want to waste his time either.

"It's okay. We're both free until 4pm." He reassures me, referring to Instrumental Chemistry, the class we both have in about an hour and thirty minutes. Instrumental Chemistry is easy, and the professor is nice, so I've heard. So I'm not worried. The way I see it, Ochem is what I need to be worried about.

Cody spent the next hour explaining the concept to me. And I understood some of what he said but I still need some clarification. I make a mental note to go back to Dr. Clark's office on Wednesday when I've studied at home from the textbook.

Who knows, maybe I might not need to go back to him after I've solved some questions from the textbook. I'd much rather prefer not to be humiliated or embarrassed by that man.


The next few hours go by in a flash, and before I know it, it's 5:15pm. Time to go home. My first class tomorrow begins at 9:30am so I'll definitely be getting some good night's sleep. You see, I don't joke with my sleep. And maybe that's why working out isn't for me because I would rather eat and sleep, than spend a minute at the gym.

I know, that's just sad.

"Okay, let me know if it gives you any more troubles and I'll come by to take a look." Cody says as we walk to the parking lot of the science and technology building after I narrate the ordeal with my car this morning.

I thank him and give him a side hug, and we say our goodbyes. But as I begin to start my car, I'm left with disappointment because it won't start.

As if today can't get any more humiliating.

Quickly, I remove the key from the ignition and get out, but Cody is already gone.

Urgh! I live about thirty minutes away. And I can't just leave my car here.

What am I going to do?


~ Nicklaus ~

I've had a long day.

And to add to that, Lewa didn't make it any easier for me. That young lady sure knows how to get a man all worked up and pissed.

She brings out parts of me that only one other person has been able to do.

When she was in my office earlier, I took an opportunity to ask her to write her questions on the white board. It's something I've always done with my students. It helps build their confidence in the subject matter. But last year, for some reason, Lewa had stopped raising her hand in class to answer my questions. So I would always call her when she kept to herself and did not want to engage in the discussion. It wasn't like that at the beginning. This happened towards the end of the semester.

And then she ended up failing my class.

So when I saw an opportunity to ask her to write on the board, I took it. But I wasn't expecting to be fighting to concentrate on the questions she was writing on the board. I was getting distracted by the sight in front of me.

Her skirt looked shorter than normal, and her thighs looked beckoning. And when she'd picked up her backpack to leave, I almost lost it. Was she trying to get me fired?

I cursed at the fact that I was looking at her that way. Now I am trying so hard to not look at her that way; and that seems to be failing.

This whole thing all started last year, really. When she took my class and failed. To say that I had been disappointed would be an understatement. She is a really intelligent student, and I know this because I took some time that year to see her records. Straight A's. Almost a perfect GPA if not for the Ochem she failed that year. And she's the youngest in my class. Her bio says she skipped a grade in elementary school.

But she doesn't seem to put all that intelligence towards my class. Why? I have no idea. She seems to be a package of beauty with a certain kind of brain for every other class except mine.

And that gets me all riled up.


As I make my way out to the parking lot, something catches my eyes.


My car is apparently parked two cars away from hers. She is standing slightly bent over, looking at something in the hood of her car.

Lewa Ade.

I release a frustrated sigh as my eyes continue to focus on her, and then they subconsciously move down to her lower body.

I curse under my breath as I avert my gaze.

Then suddenly, she pauses and begins looking around.

For help, maybe.

Her legs are shaking, perhaps from nervousness. And her backside with them.

Her thighs seem to be closer together as she pulls hair away from her face. I rake my fingers through my hair as I make my way to where she's standing.

She seems oblivious to me or to her surroundings because she lowers the hood and is about to turn back towards the driver side when her skirt gets caught up in the hood.

A loud sigh heaves out of her mouth as she roughly and impatiently pulls the rim of her skirt out of the hood. And before I realize what is happening, her back hits my chest.

I hear a loud gasp as we both begin to find our way to the concrete ground, with her on top of me.

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