The next morning dawned crisp and bright, the early sun cutting through soft mist that hung over the campus lawns. Sierra walked with her earbuds in, music playing faintly as she made her way toward the library. She had planned to review her notes before the next lecture, but her thoughts kept circling back to one thing—last night's email.
She had stared at her inbox for hours after sending it, wondering if he would reply. Maybe professors didn't respond to student emails that quickly. Maybe she was overthinking it. Still, when her phone buzzed earlier that morning, her heart had nearly leapt.
Thank you for your thoughtful notes, Sierra. You've done well. Keep approaching your work with that same attention to detail.
Simple words. Professional. Yet she must have read it a dozen times before leaving for class.
As she crossed the courtyard, she slowed near the row of benches lined with autumn-colored trees. A few students chatted quietly nearby, some typing away on their laptops. She adjusted her bag strap—and then froze.
Professor Blackwood stood a few feet ahead, speaking with another lecturer. The morning light caught his dark hair, and the way he held himself—calm, composed—made him seem almost untouchable.
She hesitated for a second, unsure if she should keep walking or turn another way. But then he looked up. Their eyes met.
"Good morning, Sierra," he said, his tone calm but carrying just enough warmth to make her chest flutter.
"Oh—good morning, Professor." She tried to sound natural, though her voice came out slightly breathless.
"You're in early," he noted, adjusting the papers in his hand. "Most students aren't on campus before nine."
Sierra smiled faintly. "I like studying in the mornings. It's quieter then."
"Good habit," he said, nodding approvingly. Then, after a small pause, "I read through your notes again. You have a talent for connecting ideas. Keep refining it."
Her cheeks warmed. "Thank you. I… really appreciate that you replied. It kind of made my morning."
His lips curved slightly at her honesty. "I'm glad to hear that."
There was a short silence—not awkward, just quiet. The kind of silence that felt full, like neither wanted to be the first to move on.
Then the lecturer beside him called his name. He turned slightly, nodding before looking back at Sierra. "I'll see you in class, then."
"Yeah. See you."
He walked away, his steps steady, his presence leaving behind a faint trace of calm that lingered in the air. Sierra stood there for a moment longer, her heart beating softly but fast.
When she finally continued toward the library, Tanya appeared from behind a column, smirking. "So that's why you walk through this part of campus every morning?"
Sierra blinked, startled. "What? No! I just… I like the trees here."
"Right," Tanya teased, raising a brow. "Trees with glasses and lesson plans, apparently."
Sierra rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. "You're ridiculous."
"Maybe," Tanya said, looping her arm through Sierra's as they walked together. "But you're glowing. Admit it."
"I'm not," Sierra protested lightly, though she knew she was smiling too much for it to be convincing.
The rest of the morning passed quietly. In class, she took her usual seat, heart fluttering just a little when Professor Blackwood entered. He greeted the students as always, but when his eyes brushed over hers for half a second, it was enough to make her pulse skip.
Throughout the lecture, she tried to focus on her notes, but the words blurred occasionally. Every time he paced near her row or asked the class a question, she felt that same nervous energy spark within her.
And when the lecture ended, and students began filing out, she lingered just a little—pretending to rearrange her books, even though she was waiting for the room to quiet down.
As he erased part of the whiteboard, he spoke without looking at her. "You're staying consistent, Sierra. That's good. Most students lose focus after the first week."
"I guess I just really like your class," she said honestly.
That made him pause. He looked over his shoulder at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "That's nice to hear. I hope it stays that way."
She nodded, smiling softly. "It will."
When she finally stepped out of the room, the hallway was bathed in the soft afternoon light, and she couldn't help but think how strange it was—that something as ordinary as a class could make her feel this alive.
And as for him, back inside the lecture hall, Professor Blackwood stood by the window for a moment longer than usual, watching her walk away. He knew he shouldn't think much of it—just a student, bright and curious—but the echo of her voice and the light in her eyes stayed with him long after she was gone.