The lecture hall is dim. Afternoon light cuts through half-closed blinds, dust drifting in the beams. Five guys sprawled across the front rows, legs kicked out, jackets slung over chairs. The room smells like cheap cologne and restlessness.
The clock above the whiteboard reads 2:58. Class starts at 3.
Haru: leaning back, chair tilted on two legs, eyes half-lidded "...You think she's young? Like, actually young? Not some tenure-track fossil who smells like chalk dust and regret?"
Kai: flipping a pen between his fingers, not looking up "Doesn't matter what she looks like. Professors are off-limits. That's what makes them interesting."
Erik: grinning wide, arms behind his head "Off-limits is just foreplay with extra steps, bro."
Ren: sitting perfectly still, chin resting on his fist, staring at the empty podium like it owes him something. His eyes haven't moved in three minutes.
Sora: low chuckle, dragging his thumb across his lower lip "All I'm saying is... if she walks in and she's got that look? The one that says she knows exactly what she's doing to you? I'm not pretending I don't notice."
Haru: "God, what if she's the type that wears those tight blouses? The ones that—"
Kai: "You're already spiraling."
Haru: "I'm manifesting."
Erik: "Nah nah, let him cook. What if she bends over the desk to write something? Just— right there, in front of everyone—"
Ren: quiet, almost to himself "...I'd watch every second."
Silence. The clock ticks. Someone shifts in their chair.
Sora: smile curling "2:59. One more minute, gentlemen. Then we find out if this semester's going to be fun... or torture."
Five sets of eyes drift to the door. Waiting. Hungry.
The handle hasn't moved. Not yet.