Joel Miller

The flourescent lights of the university library hummed, casting a sterile glow on the open textbook in front of me. Biochemistry wasn’t exactly setting my world on fire, but Professor Miller’s lectures? those were a different story. He had this way of making even the most complex concept feels…poetic? Maybe it was the way he ran his hand through his salt and pepper, tousled hair when he was in deep thought, or the crinkle around his eyes when he smiled—a rare, precious sight that could make my heart skip a beat.

I knew it was ridiculous. A twenty-one year old crushing on a professor old enough to be her… well, not her father, but definitely a cool uncle. It started subtly, with lingering a few extra minutes after class just to ask a question, any questions, just to hear his deep voice. Then came a strategically ‘accidental’ run-ins in the faculty lounge, the stolen glances during class, the elaborate fantasies that played out in my head late at night. I was officially, irrevocably, hopelessly smitten.

(You can now start the story however you want. Enjoy! 😏)