Room 215... Two fif—there it is.
I muttered to myself as I walked down the hallway, searching for the room designated for my first subject. Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob and stepped inside.
As soon as I entered, a few heads turned in my direction, but just as quickly, they went back to whatever they were doing—some were chatting, others scrolling through their phones, and a few were setting up their materials. The room was still filling up with students, so I scanned the area for a good seat. My eyes landed on an open spot in the first row, directly in front of the professor's desk.
Perfect.
As I made my way toward the seat, I overheard a hushed conversation nearby.
"Is that Noa Schmid?" a girl whispered to her friend, her eyes following me as I walked past.
"Yeah, I heard she had an accident and was in a coma for a year."
I ignored the comments, focusing on reaching my seat. I set my bag down on the table and removed my coat, shaking off the winter chill. Just as I was about to sit, another hushed conversation caught my attention—and this time, it nearly made me freeze in place.
"I read something about her online," the same girl said, lowering her voice slightly. "Apparently, she didn't really leave the cello because of the accident. The rumor is she was pregnant, and her mom hid her for a year."
Wait… WHAT?!
Pregnant?!
I almost choked on my own breath.
Girl, I was literally in a coma.
Where do people even come up with these stories?
I turned my head slightly, pretending to adjust my chair, just so I could get a quick look at the two girls whispering. One had her phone open, probably scrolling through some gossip site, while the other leaned in with wide, intrigued eyes.
"Are you serious?" her friend whispered, clearly invested in the nonsense.
"Yeah! I mean, think about it. She disappeared, no cello competitions, no media appearances. And then she suddenly reappears, but with no performances planned? It's suspicious."
I felt my jaw tighten. Suspicious? The only thing suspicious here is how fast people can fabricate an entire scandal. I wanted to turn around and shut them down, but I knew better than to feed into pointless rumors.
Instead, I took a deep breath, sat down, and pulled out my notebook. Ignore it, Noa. Just focus.
But just as I flipped open a page, another comment slipped into the air.
"Well, if it's true, imagine who the father is! Maybe some famous musician?"
Oh, for God's sake.
I let out a slow exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. This was my first day at Stanford Law, and already, I was battling baseless drama.
The chatter in the room died down as soon as the front door swung open. Everyone immediately straightened in their seats, signaling the arrival of our professor.
I quickly adjusted my posture, grabbed my iPad, and prepared to take notes. But the moment I turned my head toward the entrance, my breath hitched, and my jaw nearly dropped.
No. Way.
Standing there, exuding an air of authority and confidence, was the very same man I had been arguing with just moments ago. The same guy who bumped into me last week and acted like it was my fault.
I blinked rapidly, convinced that my brain was playing tricks on me. Desperate for confirmation, I leaned toward my seatmate and whispered urgently, "He's our professor?"
She gave me a strange look before nodding confidently. "Yeah, that's Professor Elsher. Why?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
Instead, I sat there, frozen in disbelief, watching as he placed his leather briefcase on the desk and glanced around the room.
Just great. The guy I was ready to throw hands with is now the one in charge of my grade.
At that moment, all I could do was silently pray that he would take his sweet time setting up—maybe even long enough for me to wake up from this nightmare.
I watched as he carefully placed his leather briefcase on the desk, pulled out a stack of neatly organized papers, and adjusted his watch. Each movement felt agonizingly slow, yet somehow not slow enough.
Please let him take forever. Please let him get a sudden emergency call. Please let the projector break—anything!
But, of course, fate had other plans.
After a few moments, he finally looked up and scanned the room. His sharp gaze moved across the class, and for a second, I thought I was safe—until his eyes landed on me.
I swear I saw the briefest flicker of recognition in his expression, but he masked it almost instantly.
With a small smirk, he clapped his hands together and spoke.
"Alright, let's begin."
I sank deeper into my chair. I am so screwed.
"I think we have a newbie here," he announced, his voice laced with amusement. My heart pounded in my chest. This is bad.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his, forcing the most polite smile I could manage. He, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying this. I could see it in the way his lips twitched as he tried to contain a laugh. Instead, he bit his lower lip—and damn, I hated to admit it, but that was sexy.
No, Noa. Focus!
"Please introduce yourself to the class," he said, gesturing for me to stand.
I hesitated for a second before pushing myself up, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. Clearing my throat, I offered a polite nod to my classmates.
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Noa, Noa Ysabelle Schmid," I started, my voice steady despite the situation. "I'm a first-year law student. I transferred here this semester."
I kept it short and simple, hoping to sit down as quickly as possible, but I could still feel his eyes on me, analyzing, amused.
"Welcome to Stanford, Noa," he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. "By the way, I am Josh, Joshua Alexander Elsher, and I will be your Professor for this subject" he said, emphasizing the word professor.
I nodded in response and quickly sat down, gripping my pen tightly.
This was going to be a long semester.
"I knew it! She is Noa Schmid—the cellist!" the girl whispered excitedly to her friend, not even bothering to lower her voice.
I pretended not to hear, keeping my eyes fixed on my iPad, but I could feel the weight of their stares.
"I told you she looked familiar," her friend murmured back. "She used to be everywhere—concerts, magazines, even international competitions. And then she just... disappeared."
"Yeah, but did you hear the real reason why?" the first girl added in a hushed but eager tone. "They say—"
I shot them a sharp look, and they both instantly went silent, eyes wide like they had been caught red-handed.
I sighed and turned back to my screen, but I could still feel the whispers buzzing around me. Great. First day, and I'm already the class gossip.
At the front, the professor cleared his throat, snapping everyone's attention back to him.
While I was still internally screaming, Josh—Professor Josh—continued. "I understand that law school can be overwhelming, but I hope we can all keep an open mind and have respectful discussions in this class."
His gaze flickered toward me for the briefest moment, amusement dancing in his eyes. He knew this was messing with me, and he was clearly enjoying every second of it.
"Alright, now that we're done with introductions, let's get started," he said, his gaze flickering to me for just a second longer than necessary.
I straightened in my seat.
This was going to be interesting.
As he began his lecture, I found myself unable to look away. The way he spoke—so clear, so confident—made it impossible not to listen. He had a way of commanding the room without even trying.
And damn it, he was too handsome for his own good.
The crisp white dress shirt hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, the sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing just enough of his toned forearms to be distracting. His black trouser fit him way too well, and the way he moved—so effortless, so natural—made it hard to focus on anything other than him.
And his scent… God. Even from where I was sitting, I could catch hints of his cologne. Clean, expensive, and unfairly intoxicating.
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to look down at my iPad. Focus, Noa. You're here to study, not drool over your professor.
But then, my stupid brain decided to betray me further. I wonder what he looks like with that shirt off…
Oh my God.
I clenched my jaw, shaking the thought away. What the hell was wrong with me?
I quickly tapped my screen, pretending to take notes before my imagination got me into real trouble.
He was so damn hot that, for a second, I almost forgot how much I wanted to slap him for blaming me in that bump incident last week.
Almost.
As he continued speaking, effortlessly commanding the room with that deep, smooth voice, I found myself getting even more annoyed. How dare he look this wasgood and be this smart? It was unfair.
I crossed my arms, leaning back in my chair. Stay focused, Noa. He might be a walking Greek statue, but he was still the same arrogant guy who nearly knocked me over and had the audacity to make it my fault.
I narrowed my eyes at him, determined not to let his stupidly perfect face distract me.
But damn it, did he have to smell that good too?
"I said focus, Noa!" I muttered, a little too loudly—loud enough that the whole room went silent for a second.
I froze.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze, only to find Professor Elsher staring directly at me, one brow raised in amusement.
"Miss Schmid," he said, clearly holding back a smirk. "Care to share with the class what exactly you need to focus on?"
A few students chuckled, and I felt my face heat up. Great. Just great.
I cleared my throat and quickly shook my head. "N-no, sir. Just talking to myself."
"Hmm." He nodded, his smirk deepening. "Try to keep your internal battles a little more internal next time."
The class laughed again, and I wanted to disappear.
I sank lower into my chair, gripping my pen tightly.
Bury me now, please! I screamed internally, sinking further into my seat. Why did that have to last so long?
As if the humiliation wasn't enough, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turned, and my seatmate—who had been quietly minding her own business—offered me a small, reassuring smile.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
I forced a nod, returning her smile, though I was sure my face was still burning red. "Yeah... thanks."
She chuckled. "Don't worry, you're not the first to embarrass yourself in front of a hot professor."
I choked on my own breath. Oh, God.
I let out a small, awkward laugh. "Well, that's a relief. At least I'm not the only one."
She grinned. "Trust me, half the girls in this class are probably thinking the same thing you just blurted out. You just had the guts to say it out loud."
I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "That was not guts. That was a complete lack of self-control."
She chuckled. "Don't worry, he probably won't hold it against you. Though... he did smirk a little."
I peeked through my fingers and stole a glance at Professor Elsher. He was back to discussing something about constitutional law, completely unbothered—or at least pretending to be.
Great. Just great. First, I fought with him in the hallway. Now, I made a fool of myself in his class. Fantastic start, Noa. Absolutely fantastic.
"By the way, I'm Sam—Samantha Choi," she said, extending her hand with a friendly smile.
I reached out and shook it. "I'm—"
Before I could finish, she cut me off with a knowing grin. "No need to introduce yourself. I've known you since your cello days."
My eyebrows raised in surprise. "Really?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "My sister is a huge fan of yours! She used to watch all your performances. She'll definitely freak out when she finds out we're actually classmates." She let out a soft laugh.
I couldn't help but smile at her excitement. "That's really sweet. Tell her I said hi."
"Oh, I definitely will. She might even beg me to FaceTime you one of these days," she teased, making me chuckle.
At least someone here was treating me like a normal person, not a walking headline or a scandal waiting to happen.
As he wrapped up his lecture, he took a step back, crossed his arms, and glanced at the class with a thoughtful expression.
"I'll leave you with this," he said, his deep voice carrying through the room. 'The law is reason, free from passion,' he quoted, then smirked slightly. "At least, that's what Aristotle believed. But as you'll soon learn, the law is also shaped by human stories, emotions, and choices. Keep that in mind as we go through this course."
The room fell silent for a moment, absorbing his words. Then, the sound of chairs shifting and bags zipping filled the air as everyone prepared to leave.
I found myself staring again, half-impressed, half-annoyed. Great. Now, on top of being infuriatingly smug, he also had the audacity to be inspiring.
I was just about to stand up and slip out through the back door, relieved that this class was finally over, when his voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Miss Schmid, can I talk to you for a second?"
Fuck.
I nearly froze, my heart skipping a beat as I slowly turned to face him. Plastering on a forced smile, I nodded. "Uh, sure, Professor," I said, trying to sound casual, though my insides were screaming.
I glanced at Samantha, who was already slinging her bag over her shoulder. She raised a brow, silently asking if I needed her to stay. I gave her a small nod toward the door, signaling her to go ahead. With a knowing smile, she mouthed good luck before heading out.
As the last few students filed out, I took a deep breath and approached his desk, bracing myself for whatever was coming next.