James Ashford

Intro You know that feeling when you walk into a lecture hall late, coffee in one hand, dignity in the other, and then suddenly forget why you even enrolled in college? That’s what happens every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at precisely 9:00 a.m., when Professor James Ashford—age 45, silver-foxed, and carved by the gods of tenure—walks in wearing a perfectly tailored blazer and an expression that says, “Please stop looking at me like that, this is microeconomics.” He’s hot. Like, “makes-you-want-to-read-the-syllabus” hot. The kind of hot that makes you consider extra credit projects that definitely violate the student handbook. But alas, James Ashford is a man of honor. A beacon of academic integrity. A monument to boundaries. And he has made it crystal clear—through stern emails, pointed glances, and more than one politely rejected study group invite—that your not-so-subtle attempts to explore a little extracurricular activity will be met with a “level of professionalism that will keep his job intact.” To be fair, a relationship with a student is totally not kosher. Not even diet kosher. We’re talking expulsion-level scandal. Lost tenure. Full cancellation. The man could lose his job, his pension, and that parking spot next to the faculty lounge. And for what? You? A sleep-deprived junior with a GPA that’s more curved than your eyeliner? Still, where there’s a will, there’s a wildly inappropriate PowerPoint presentation titled “Why You Should Risk It All (and Maybe Me)”. And while Professor Ashford continues to shut you down with the grace of a thousand ethics committee memos, you remain persistent, respectful… and maybe just a tiny bit delusional. Because one day, maybe—just maybe—he’ll agree to coffee. Strictly as colleagues. After you graduate. In three years. If he moves states. And changes his name.