Let's reflect a little bit, shall we? In life, one is bound to make mistakes. It's human nature.

Sometimes those mistakes are petty. Like getting an answer wrong in class or forgetting to off the lights before going to sleep (I was tired okay?).

Then there are the costly mistakes. Like in brain surgery or leaving the stove on for the whole day in your house only to have your friend come home and nearly pass out witnessing the mini fire in the kitchen (I swear it was an accident).

The thing about making mistakes is that there's always something to learn from it. Regardless of how petty or costly it is.

Now I've made my fair share of petty and costly mistakes.

Yeah right, "fair share". More like a billion.

Why are you never supportive of me? Without me, you wouldn't exist.

And without me, you'd be a vegetable.

Anyways, I've made a hell lot of mistakes and learnt from each and every one of them.

Like for example, don't drink vodka. Ever. You will end up with your head down the toilet, your best friend holding your hair up, yelling at you for your foolishness and your guts practically spewing out.

And yes. I know I'm not 21 yet, but that's just a small complication. cough

Small complication, my arse. You're basically a criminal.

And then there's that one time, I accidentally said Noah instead of my boyfriend's name while I was making out with him. Awkward Well now he's my ex boyfriend. Oh well.

But yes I've made some pretty weird mistakes. Some more costly than others. But nothing, I tell you. NOTHING. Comes close to this one.

I knew I shouldn't have eaten that cupcake.

Well what do I have to learn from this? I don't really think I want to find out.

But I can't stay in my mind palace forever. Yes Sherlock is the best.

Try as we might, we all have to ultimately wake up from our dreamland and face the harsh reality.

But right now, I think it's the harshest it's ever been for me.

~ ~ ~

Every single muscle in my body tensed up upon hearing his voice. Ugh.

I think I even stopped breathing for a whole minute.

I felt like a puppet pulled taught by its puppeteer; unable to move. Paralysed.

I felt like running. Far far away. Falling down a rabbit hole and going to Wonderland. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

I glance to the window debating whether or not I could make the jump. Sure you could, if you knew how to successfully not kill yourself after falling four stories down.

Okay. Maybe not. I can't get out through the door. He's standing behind me, which means he's blocking the door.

Well fuck.

As I contemplate various routes of escape like that tiny filthy exhaust pipe in the right corner, I feel a hand placed gently but firmly on my shoulder, turning me around.

No no no no no no no. Why? It feels so nice. His hands fit perfectly on my shoulder blades like they were made for each other. I wonder how they would feel around my wais-

YOU IDIOTIC FOOL GET YOUR PERVERTED HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTER. AND FOCUS!

As those train of thoughts dissolve, I'm greeted with a scene straight out of those horror movies Neha insists on watching with me.

I find myself face to face with 185 cm of an aggressive, growling, slightly put-out and undeniably sexy Noah Lee just as lightning flashes, illuminating him for a millisecond.

He looks like a vampire. Thirsty for my blood. Pale. Handsome. Cold. The only things missing were the fangs.

Though if vampires looked like him, I wouldn't really mind being bitten by one. I can practically hear the facepalm my head makes.

You can't blame me. He's just too attractive.

But I'm shaken out of my thoughts as a particularly loud clap of thunder resounds through the lecture hall.

Suffering from astraphobia, this really didn't bear well with me.

"Ah!", I shrieked in a high-pitched voice at the sound and clutched on to the nearest thing. Or should I say person. Which just happened to be Noah.

And that's how I got a second hug from Noah. Although I wouldn't exactly call it one since it was pretty one-sided.

One second you're insulting him and the next, you're holding on to him as if your life depended on it. Talk about capricious.

My hands grab his expensive suit slightly crumpling it as my head hides in his shoulder. And once again, I'm put in a trance by the scent that is uniquely Noah Lee.

Contrary to how he looked, he felt warm and comforting. I felt safe in his arms. Like nothing would harm me as long as he was there. Don't know why, since he's an almost stranger. Or so I tell myself.

And that's when the tables turned.

As I was practically melting, he tensed up like a Greek statue who was once the victim of Medusa. He became rigid and his breathing seemed to cease.

I could feel his heart beating a little faster. The sound was one I mentally stored in the back of my mind so I could listen to it forever. At least figuratively. It was my new favourite sound.

I don't know how long we stayed like this. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes? But it felt like years. At least to me.

And then the thunder that also seems to hate my guts, reverberates through the setting again and I, being the immature five year old I am, shriek again. Although this time it's muffled.

This seems to snap Noah out of his trance. He quickly clears his throat and gently pushes me away from him. Like I was made out of porcelain and could break at any moment.

That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

Well what do you expect? Him to hug you back? To comfort you? Tell you that it's just a thunderstorm and that he'll be there to protect you no matter what?

He doesn't even know you properly. And you've not exactly been the nicest to him. So the fact that he's not roughly shoving you off of him should be more than enough to sate you.

Sometimes I wish I didn't have to face reality. Sometimes I just want to stay in dreamland and never come back.

As I look up at his face, I see a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it concern? But it goes away faster than the lightning that reflects off his chocolate orbs.

His face is once again morphed into a neutral but passive aggressive expression as he clears his throat and says in his velvety voice,

"We will discuss the consequences of your previous actions later Ms. Holmes. But right now, I have a class to teach. So kindly return to your seat."

HA! And you thought you were off the hook.

Now's not the time brain.

And so I delicately walk back to my seat - which just happens to be front and center - and sit next to Pénélope, who wraps a comforting arm around my shoulder.

But somehow, I didn't feel as safe as I was moments before; buried in someone else's Armani-covered shoulder.

~ ~ ~

Now, let me tell you that I wouldn't admit this even if I was held at gunpoint, but damn can that man teach.

He walks and talks with an air of confidence and superiority. Demanding attention as he paces back and forth. Hands gesturing elegantly while holding a piece of chalk between two long and calloused fingers.

At this moment, he's the epitome of a teacher. And I mean this in the sense that, he doesn't go on rambling. He listens to our questions, our opinions and engages with us. He doesn't continue to recite in his own world. He interacts.

He makes sure we understand everything before moving on to the next topic. It doesn't feel like a professor babbling off to his students. It feels like a discussion; a conversation between equals.

He effortlessly explains polymorphic type inference - an algorithm I've been particularly struggling with. The fact that he can make it sound so simple. It truly amazes me. I doubt even Professor Vieri could've accomplished it.

And it also helps that he looks like he was made for the profession. Oozing confidence and leadership, with a touch of sexiness, he's as suave as ever and I'm pretty sure I heard the girls in the class sigh (how pathetic). Like you weren't one of them.

His deep voice resonates across the room, causing goosebumps to appear on my arm as those beautiful lips continue to speak.

His broad shoulders move along with his hand gestures slightly creasing his suit while his arm muscles flex due to the movement.

His face remains neutral but in rare instances of passionate description, his expression changes into someone who's well and truly in love with the subject.

And as I imagine his passion being directed in a different way, I find myself blushing.

As my brain decides to conjure quite explicit thoughts, a low voice, laced with annoyance, brings me back from my inappropriate daydream.

"Will you be my girlfriend, oh beautiful June?"

"Oh yes. Yes. Of course I would", I say dreamily.

"Brilliant. Here's the chalk. Come and fill in the rest."

And it's like someone dropped a bucket of cold water on my head as I'm jerked out of my trance harshly by a smirking bastard in a suit.

And of course you had to answer like that. How could you not realise that people don't say such things in an annoyed tone?

At least he's oblivious to it. Right?

I start to blush like an idiot as I eloquently request him to repeat his statement.

"Huh? Wait what?", I grunt.

Okay maybe not so eloquently.

He raises an eyebrow and stares down at me as he huffs impatiently and says, "Wait what, Professor?"

Now I knew exactly what he was talking about. He wanted me to show him respect. And the wise thing to do in this situation would be to do just that, seeing as I've already angered him more than enough.

But since when have I turned down an opportunity to rile him up even more? And if I'm digging my own grave, so be it.

"As much as I'm equally qualified to be a professor like you, I'd much rather prefer it if you called me June, sir."

You should've seen the look on his face.

But my victory was unfairly short-lived as he bangs his fists on my desk in an uncharacteristic fit of rage and makes me yelp and jump at the same time.

"DON'T TRY TO SMARTASS ME YOUNG LADY. Trust me. You don't want to get on my bad side. But then again, you already are. NOW GET YOUR PRETTY LITTLE ARSE TO THE BOARD AND ANSWER THE GODDAMN QUESTION!"

Now anybody else in my predicament would've died then and there at the withering look he shot at me.

But I'm Juniper Enola Holmes and I refuse to be taken down by a man.

God that sounds wrong.

And I was kinda floating from the fact that he thought my arse was pretty.

He didn't really mean it. He hasn't even seen your fat arse.

For the last time, my arse is not fat!

I am the epitome of elegance and grace. So naturally, as I get out of my seat and make my way to the board after snatching the chalk out of his hands, head held high in defiance, I forget to look where I'm walking and trip over thin air.

Looking back on it, I wonder why I half expected him to catch me. But alas, my life isn't that kind of story and he's not that kind of guy.

THUNK! I land on the hard wooden floor on all fours.

We meet again, my dear friend! I still remember that faithful morning.

And... I'm talking to the floor. I'm so sane. I still wonder why I'm single.

I hear the rest of the class laughing as I blush and try to get up.

How embarrassing. Ugh.

But as I right myself and brush imaginary dust off of my shirt, I hear no laughter. I turn back to see why.

I see Noah with an authoritative and intimidating expression on his face. He looked like he would murder someone if they dared to even giggle.

I felt a huge rush of warmth overwhelm me at the gesture. Though it didn't seem like much, it meant the world to me. He means the world t-

No. You barely know him. It's too soon.

I push those dangerous thoughts away and walk up to the chalkboard where pieces of the complex algorithm are written.

"I'm supposed to complete it right?"

"No you're supposed to decorate it with butterflies and roses."

Ha. Ha. Very funny.

"As tempting as the offer is, I still need a bit of practice when it comes to drawing roses."

At this, he snorts and replies, "Just get on with it Holmes." But his tone lacks any sternness and instead sounds affectionate?

I really must be going mad.

I look at the algorithm and wrack the recesses of my brain for a solution. It looks impossible. And I know it is. But I'll be damned if I give up. That just means he'll win.

Then I remember his lesson.

"There are three suggestions in Heeren's thesis to deal with these problems. These solutions are: Alternative 1: qualification of equality constraints.
Alternative 2: introducing type scheme variables.
Alternative 3: collecting implicit instance constraints."

And as I look at the problem looming over me, it doesn't seem as impossible as before.

"I'd appreciate it if you did it this year Ms. Holmes. Class is going to finish soon." His voice says at a much closer distance than before and I fight back a shudder as it travels like honey down my spine.

Now's not the time. You have an algorithm to put together.

I muster up my courage and step up to the board and start writing.

I knew I was taking a chance with it. I would either be a genius or a failure. There was no in between.

I finish writing and step back to admire/cringe at my handiwork.

{V AR} (x:T)∈ x:T
{→ E} M:σ→τ N:σ M N:τ
{→ I}∪x:σM:τ λx.M:σ→τ
{LET} M:T ∪ x:T N:τ let x=M in N:τ
{∀ → E} M:∀α.T M:T [α:=τ]
{∀ → I}M:T M:∀α.T

I hear a gasp that sounds deep and breathy. And oh God what I would do to hear it again.

As I was about to turn around, I feel a pair of large, slightly calloused hands on my shoulder as I hear him whisper in a low, husky and rough voice,

"How did you figure it out? That's impossible. Even I couldn't complete it in such a short period of time at your age. How did you get the answer? It's supposed to be impossible. You weren't supposed to get it right."

This time I couldn't help the shudder that passed through me. His hot breath was ghosting over my ear. Each exhale of his sending shivers down my back.

His hands lightly squeezed my shoulders. Probably accidentally, but if it wasn't for those hands I would've been a quivering mess on the floor.

I bite my lip to stop myself from making any embarrassing sounds as I reply in an equally breathy and shaky voice, much lower than usual,

"Nothing that's supposed to happen ever happens to me. That much, I know for sure, from my almost 20 years of life. I've only gotten this far because of a few right mistakes, Professor Lee."

And as those four syllables rolled off my tongue, I swore I heard his breath hitch.

So he likes it when I call him Professor? Hmmm. I mentally store that piece of information... just in case.

But then again, my life is full of oxymorons and so it shouldn't really come as a surprise when the moment is completely shattered by that bipolar son of a bitch.

He steps back and puts some much needed - no please come back - distance between us. I was staring to become light-headed.

As another clap of thunder makes itself known, and as I jump like a two year old yet again, his face twists into an evil grin as he turns around and addresses the entire hall.

There were other people in the room?

Of course. Just because you two can't keep your hands off of each other and time comes to a standstill for you doesn't mean it does for others.

For the record, there's no need to keep our hands off each other because they weren't on each other in the first place.

Keep telling yourself that, hon.

"Now listen up! Since we have 20 more minutes until the end of our class. Let's have a pop quiz on what you've learnt so far, shall we?"

"Don't worry. It won't be taken for your profile. It's just for my knowledge. But there is a catch."

Then he turns to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. Like he's truly enjoying what he's about to do.

"Ms. Holmes seems to think she knows the subject more than anyone else. As a punishment, I think she should have a different topic. Don't you think? How about what I took today? Polymorphic type interference."

His words boom across the hall and slap me in the face. Figuratively of course.

I barely know anything in that topic. I hated it. I never bothered to read it before Prof- Noah taught it to me.

OH NO WHAT AM I GONNA DO?

And to make matters worse, he continues to say,

"However, I will use the score of these quizzes for my own reasons. The person who manages to score the highest will be offered six month internship at Ubisoft. You will still attend university classes so you can finish your degree as well."

"This internship will be included in the experience section of your portfolio and who knows? Maybe you might continue at Ubisoft to work there."

"And because I am the person who chose you, you will be under my authority. You will get hands on training from me and only me. I'm a bit free these days and I feel like doing this will be helpful to a certain lucky individual."

I feel my world crumble around me. I'm surely not going to score the highest; especially on this topic. I wasn't going to get that internship.

Someone else was going to gain all that experience, learn so much more than the rest of us, and most importantly, spend quality time with Noah Lee.

I could feel my heart shattering. How could anyone be that cruel? I fought back my tears. He didn't deserve to see that side of me.

I must've looked crestfallen because I looked up at him and saw his expression morph into one of sympathy and for a second, he looked like he was going to take back his words.

I walk back to my desk, head hung low, wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

Not even Pénélope's smile and hug could make me feel better.

He distributes a sheet of paper to everyone else and they start to write their answers the moment their hands come into contact with the quiz.

He goes to the board and writes down my questions. Then he grabs a sheet of paper and comes to my place to give it to me.

I refuse to meet his eyes as I snatch the paper and start to write. I wanted him to go away. Far far away. Did I really?

Instead, he sighs and says softly, "Don't be like that. You have to suffer the consequences. But I will give you one piece of advice."

He grabs my chin and tilts my face to look at him.

He bends down so that we're eye to eye. Icy blue irises meeting chocolate brown ones. He offers a small smile and whispers, loud enough for only me to hear,

"Just keep making the right mistakes June."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Chapter nine is finally over! It's the longest one so far! I'm really sorry for the late update. I've been having exams for the past week and so I was super busy. Thanks for being patient. You guys are the best readers ever! I hope I made it up to you with this chapter. I always love reading your thoughts and feedback.

The sexual tension between June and Noah just seems to keep increasing and increasing. Like wow. Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?

Note to self: Please don't say things like that ever again. Please.

June's pretty intelligent am I right? And that gibberish in the chapter is actual algorithm for polymorphic type inference. See. I do my research.

June's also an emotional klutz of a person who trips over air and has feelings for a certain air-headed CEO.

And how do you like Professor Lee? I wanted to depict him as a person who took his job seriously and was perfect at it, but also looked sexy as hell at the same time.

Apparently Noah likes it when June calls him Professor Lee. cough Just putting that out there.

Want to know who gets the internship? Well you'll just have to wait. Mwahahaha Sorry not sorry.

Chapter ten is coming soon! So stay tuned. Vote, comment, add it to your reading list, library etc. You can also follow me if you want :)

Whether you follow me or not, I love you for just reading this <3