Chapter Text
Professor Ben Organa removed his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes, the corners of his lips twitching up. He’d read some interesting e-mails in his twenty years of teaching, but never had he received a message quite like this one. It served him right for checking his e-mail at 1:00 a.m. from his home office. For the past half-hour, he’d stared at his screen, torn between embarrassment, humor, and an inappropriate but generous dose of pridefulness.
With over three hundred students each semester, it would not be surprising if he didn’t recognize the writer’s name. It wasn’t uncommon to find himself searching his class lists as he checked his e-mails. Students rarely remembered to note their class or section, even though it was outlined clearly on the syllabus.
As if students read the syllabus.
But he did know her name, and her face flashed clearly in his mind as a conflicting rush of shame and longing settled in his chest. She was lovely, a natural beauty with intelligent eyes, tanned skin, and a wide smile that could melt the iciest of hearts.
Were the message from any other student, it might simply be amusing. From her, it was a bright beacon from a lighthouse, shining an enticing ray of hope he didn’t dare contemplate too closely. He shouldn’t be pleased. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t be able to picture her face so clearly.
Rey Kanata. Beautiful, smiling Rey. It was rare to have a student with a name he’d never seen. It was rarer still to have a student he thought about outside of class. He re-read her drunken message for perhaps the tenth time, huffed a broken chuckle of astonishment, and spent much too long writing and rewriting his response before pressing send.
His thoughts traveled back to the first week of the semester when she’d bounded into his classroom with a broad smile, giving him a welcoming nod as she chose her seat in the second row. It was clear from the beginning that she was not like other students. She used a laptop so battered he wondered that it worked, and he couldn’t help but scan her dirty nails, grease-stained jeans, and ratty backpack.
She listened intently, soaking up every lecture, engaging in every activity, her eyes rarely on her phone or laptop, and he could rely on her to answer a question when no one volunteered. Unpretentious and willing to help others, Rey was, in short, his favorite type of student.
With a grimace, he corrected himself; of course, all students deserved equal treatment; he didn’t have favorites.
Still, he found her eyes more than he should, memorizing the hazel of her bright gaze as the weeks flew by. When caught, he would lower his eyes to the stickers on the back of her laptop, the practice of decorating them a relatively new student habit.
Drink some water you beautiful, capable, dehydrated bitch!
Hold on, let me overthink this.
He sighed, shutting down his sticker-free laptop despite the temptation to look up Rey’s class schedule and transcript; it wasn’t against the rules, and all instructors had access, but he didn’t have a good reason to dig into her files. He felt bad enough about his attraction; he didn’t need to intrude further.
He wondered idly if she lived in on-campus housing or if she commuted. He shouldn’t be wondering about her, her age, her relationship status, or anything of the sort, but he did.
Thou art wise as thou art beautiful.
And he didn't mean that sarcastically like Titania had in Midsummer. If he saved Rey's paper for last, if he spent a few extra minutes providing feedback on her work, and if her lovely, dimpled smile stuck in his mind, it was just because she was so very clever.
He’d always been good at lying to himself.
It was hard to stay focused in her presence, and he worked hard to appreciate both her mind and her smiling face objectively and from a distance.
Students, no matter their brilliance or looks or wit, had never appealed to him. He commanded his classroom, encouraged conversation, and never got distracted by fluttering eyelashes or knowing looks. Nonetheless, he knew the burning thrill of attraction the first time Rey spoke, asking a pointed question in her husky, prim UK English accent.
She lingered around the edges of his mind for weeks, distracting him even on the days he didn’t see her in class. Part of him had hoped she would drop in for office hours so he could get to know her better, and part of him was relieved she didn’t. He’d had a handful of students who had fixated on him over the years, who hovered outside his office or made up thin excuses to e-mail him, who touched his shoulder too often or leaned too close to his desk. It didn’t happen often, and a withering stare was usually all it took to discourage such behaviors.
The shoe had never been on the other foot, and he hated himself for his weakness. It was completely unprofessional, unethical, and against faculty policy. He’d been lucky to be hired, and he couldn’t afford another mark on his record. Besides, he had no business finding a student attractive. And as the semester moved on and she didn’t stop by, he reasoned it was for the best.
More concerning than his…burgeoning affection for a student were his own hasty actions. Ben Solo was nothing if not a planner, and he didn’t do things by accident. At least until Rey had burst into his classroom like a sunbeam. He’d been alight with anticipation ever since. He read her work meticulously, and he looked forward to Monday/Wednesday class too eagerly. Hell, just this evening he’d replied to her message too quickly. And one morning, not two weeks prior, he’d sunk even lower.
He’d tried not to stare as she removed the purple sweatshirt in class, pretended not to notice the subtle swells below her t-shirt, told himself he didn’t want to kiss her lovely collarbones, and then she’d left the item behind. He’d snatched up the purple top emblazoned with the white letters of Aldera U and looked around the classroom, ensuring he was alone. Knowing he should wait but unable to control his greedy desire, he held the sweatshirt to his nose and breathed her in.
Even as Ben castigated himself, the muted aroma of flowers and fabric softener enveloped his senses, mingling with the comforting warmth of the soft material. On a deep inhale, a rush of emotions flooded him, and in that moment, Ben felt an inexplicable connection, a pull, as if Rey’s lavender-scented essence had become an irresistible magnet. He took another deep sniff, captivated by the intangible threads that seemed to reach out and wrap around his heart. It felt as if he’d uncovered a secret, a delicate intimacy that was not his to know. And no one needed to know that he folded the item and carried it under his jacket as he walked to his car that evening.
Later, as he slept with the stolen sweatshirt pressed against his nose, he couldn’t help but wish this was less a shameful secret and instead the tender beginning of something special.
Ben’s lips twisted into a sneer at his own thoughts. As if women were attracted to men who stole their clothing and pined after them from a position of power.
Fantasies, all of it. He’d been alone so many years for a reason. He’d suffered through more first dates than he could count and rarely embarked on a second. After what happened with his father, he didn’t trust himself. Why would anyone ever trust him? Meanwhile, his sex drive had cooled to the point of abstinence. That is, until this semester, when Rey waltzed into class and revved it into fifth gear with one smile.
He couldn’t lie to himself. This was more than an objective appreciation of another human being. He was attracted to a student–a young, intelligent, captivating student with whom he’d never spoken one-on-one. Thankfully, his unexpected attraction was only in his mind. He didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She was young, bright, and pretty, and he was old, scarred, and lonely.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t do anything. He wasn’t that man. And there was no question that she wouldn’t. It was simply a fantasy. And her message… She was drunk. It didn’t mean anything.
Regret lodged between his shoulder blades. He could have - should have - waited to reply and called her into his office for a chat about her behavior. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to find her in his office come morning.
The tips of his ears burned as he imagined her remorse, and he sympathized with secondhand embarrassment as he reread the e-mail one last time.
No matter how many times he read the words, he couldn’t believe she thought him sexy.
Already destined for any hell that may exist, Ben retrieved Rey’s Aldera sweatshirt and relaxed against his pillows, stroking himself leisurely. He longed to spill himself on it, but then he’d have to wash it, and it wouldn’t smell like her anymore. He settled for holding it to his face while he took his time chasing his orgasm, sitting at his desk with his cock in his hand, indulging in visions of her shapely rear bent over his desk, his fingers sliding between her legs as she murmured apologies between desperate whimpers.
*
Rose’s laptop screen swam into Rey’s view. She closed her eyes and opened them again, fighting nausea as she attempted to log into her school e-mail account. She typed her password three times before she got it right. Her ethics paper was due at midnight, and it was, she squinted at the small computer clock, either 12:06 a.m. or 1:26 a.m., and she was…
Wasted. Absolutely, royally fucked up. She couldn’t even find her laptop.
An unplanned Tuesday night challenge of beer pong called to the competitor in Rey, and she couldn’t resist. And now, she’d forgotten to submit her well-researched report to her favorite professor.
Oh, he would be so disappointed! After each class, as they filed out the door, he’d crisply remind them to make good choices, and now she’d gone and been a complete numpty. She tried to imagine the disappointed look on his face, but mostly, that just made her dizzy. She would explain, and maybe he would understand.
Swaying, Rey grasped the table to steady herself, wishing she’d remembered to submit her work before she’d walked the whole ten feet down the hall to Rose and Poe’s apartment. She’d had it done for days, but she’d wanted to proofread it once more. Nothing felt better than receiving praise on a submission from Professor Organa.
“Damnit!” she swore, as she accidentally closed the browser tab and had to reopen it. So much for hurrying to get back to the game. She hadn’t even needed to drink; hell, she was winning! Honestly. When would Finn and Poe finally admit that she was, indisputably, the superior being?
On the other hand, she was a lightweight, not one to drink often, and a few beers had her seeing double; plus, her breath tasted funny, and she couldn’t stop emitting weird, little burping hiccups that kept interrupting her breathing.
The keys on the keyboard rearranged themselves, and Rey stared stupidly at them, composing her message in her mind and wondering why alcohol was so popular.
“Rey! Let’s go! You’re up!” came Poe’s voice from the living room.
“One second!” she yelled back, opening a new message.
She typed quickly, thoughts filled with her handsome professor. He was, in a word, fit with a tall, broad build, long dark waves, and plush pink lips. Then there were the sexy glasses, the hypnotizing voice, the unexplained scar, the delicious ass … and no wedding ring.
And that was just the superficial stuff.
She pressed send and vowed to visit his office in the morning. Rey Kanata was nothing if not a professional, reliable student.
*
Rey woke on Rose’s couch, Poe’s snores filling the room and Finn’s socked feet in her face. She pushed them away with a groan, pulling her scattered thoughts together. She had to be somewhere…
Oh, shit.
Oh, shit, shit, shit!
She didn’t. She hadn’t. She couldn’t possibly have thought that was a good idea.
Happy in a brief state of denial, Rey searched the couch until she found her phone, pulling up her e-mail as her stomach filled with cement.
Her eyes skimmed down and confirmed her fears. He’d already replied. Rey closed her eyes as if she could hide from her phone and, by doing so, guarantee her message didn’t exist.
But it did. It did. And it was right there, and she had to open her eyes soon, or she’d be sick. Literally, the room still spun from the previous evening of stupidity.
Rey held her breath, squinting like that might soften the blows of what were sure to be humiliating words.
Rey,
It sounds like you had a fun night. I will extend your paper deadline to Wednesday (tonight) at 11:59 p.m. Please submit it to the usual dropbox.
I appreciate your…compliment. On a side note, what were you drinking? The next time you e-mail me, I’d like a case of whatever you had so I don’t have to remember what you said.
I trust you were not driving.
Professor Benjamin Organa, Aldera University
P.S. I am perfectly capable of purchasing my own clothes.
Oh my GOD, she had. She not only emailed him, she’d disrespected him and made a fool of herself. She didn’t remember much of what she’d written, and she didn’t want to scroll to look, but the clues weren’t looking good.
Swallowing the bile gathering in her throat, she scrolled down slowly.
Oh, God. No, no, no!
She may as well go home and pack; she would have to move to a new city.
Dear professor,
U should kno that u r a motherfuckin” G - how is a girl supposed to learn when her prof is so incrdblly sexy?
Im hoping for an extension on my essay, imma be real i’m really fucked up rn and will b sick af 2mr, but more importantly i am the goddess of beer pongs
Keep slayin’ boi - u rock those collared shirts and ties - does your wife pick them out??! She’s a so fucking lucky
Love u and c u tmrw,
Rey
Drowning in mortification and cursing her drunk decision-making, Rey’s stomach turned. She pocketed her phone and bolted to the bathroom.
Emptying her stomach provided immense relief. Not long after, Rey splashed cold water on her face, considering her options. She could e-mail him back, apologizing for her lack of judgment. Or, she could hustle to campus and make it to office hours for a more personal apology. But that would mean looking him in the eyes–those big, not-exactly-hazel brown-green eyes, filled with so much intelligence she wanted to dive behind them, swim in his brain, and learn everything about him.
God, how was a girl supposed to learn when the professor was a dreamboat? He liked to pace while he lectured, his baritone voice soothing but way too sexy to make one fall asleep. For a full three hours a week, she spent class time drinking in his strong brow and jaw, admiring his dark suits and classy ties, and watching his long, elegant fingers envelop his coffee mug or a projector pointer or a whiteboard marker.
She’d never had a professor who looked her in the eyes with such intensity or who left such detailed, thoughtful feedback on her work. He must do hours of grading on the weekends because each Sunday afternoon, her e-mail would chime a notification, and Rey would rush to read his typed words, each note a scrap of attention and validation she soaked up gleefully.
He sometimes left brief notations such as “excellent analysis,” “well-reasoned,” “strong use of source,” or “impressive argument,” then provided his own thoughts, posing more questions along with links for resources, encouraging her to read more. And she did. She read every word he recommended, hoping to learn more, exceed his expectations, and weave each new source into her next submission.
And she couldn’t help but breathe in his rich, citrusy, bergamot scent as he walked past or distributed handouts. He smelled of Earl Grey tea, and it reminded Rey of a home so blurry and distant she wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined.
And yes, she wondered if he were in a relationship, but she hadn’t meant to ask. And even if it were her business, she shouldn’t make stereotypical assumptions!
Fuck!
Checking the time, she hurriedly brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back. Slipping on a borrowed top from Rose, she gathered her things, tied her trainers, locked the door behind her, and jogged the three blocks to campus.
Facing him would be mortifying, but how much more mortified could she possibly be?