Breathe. I had woken up with a hard-on and I was regretting my decision to not relieve myself. I walked into Smith Hall and made my way up the stairs. I needed to focus on the class I was about to teach. But no matter what I thought, my mind kept running back to her.
Why hadn’t I said anything to her when I had a chance? I could have asked her if she was a student. Or at least asked for her name. For some reason, I'd completely shut down. I'd been captivated by her face. The blush of her cheeks. Why couldn’t I get her out of my head?
I stopped outside my classroom and pulled my hand down my face. I needed to stop obsessing. We ran into each other once. I was never going to see her again. Which was for the best. She was most likely a student, probably an undergraduate one. I sighed. I had a class to teach. That would at least be a good distraction from her for the next 50 minutes.
I opened the door to my classroom and walked in. The room immediately fell silent. I dropped my satchel on the desk and turned to my new students. This was one of my favorite parts of teaching. Setting the initial tone for the upcoming semester. Seeing all the new faces and some old ones. "Welcome to Comm 212 - Oral Communication in Business. I am Professor Hunter."
When my eyes scanned the room, all the air left my lungs.
There she was. Sitting in the back row of my classroom right next to a window. She was staring out the window, not even listening to me. The sun shining through the window made her hair even brighter. It practically shimmered, drawing all my attention to her.
Fuck. Me.
She slowly turned. And made direct eye contact with me. The color immediately rose to her cheeks.
For just a second, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like someone had punched me right in the gut. Any hope I had that the girl from the coffee shop wasn’t a student was gone. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away from her. "I know that most of you are seniors and have waited until the last minute to take this class. I haven't met a student yet who was excited about Comm. Heck, I don't even like teaching it."
Light laughter broke out amongst the students. I kept my eyes off the redhead, even though all I wanted to do was stare. If she was sitting in this class, she was most likely a senior. At least 21, maybe even 22 already. I tried to dismiss the thought. It didn’t matter that she was in her twenties, she was still a student. My student.
"Seriously, we have to teach this class on a rotating basis. I'm not even sure I'm qualified. I promise it won't be as painful as the rumors have made it out to be, though. I tend to grade rather easily so there's no need to be nervous when you're giving speeches.” I was rambling. I could feel her eyes on me. It was so hard not to stare. “But I like to jump right into things. I'm going to take attendance. When I call your name, please stand and tell me one interesting fact about yourself. Then I'll stop torturing you and you can all leave class early.” I needed to get out of this classroom. I needed to get away from her. I needed time to force myself to stop thinking about the vision of her from my dreams. “Not so bad, right?” I looked down at my class list. Okay, Raymond Asher."
I stole a glance at the redhead. She was staring at me in horror. I winced and turned away. Why was she looking at me like that? She’s upset that you’re her professor because she wants you too. No, she was probably just embarrassed from the other day. Clearly. Her face was crimson.
A boy in the middle of the classroom stood up from his desk. "Hi, I'm Ray. Hmmm, one interesting thing about myself? Well, I'm pretty good with the ladies."
"Yeah right, Ray," the girl beside him teased.
He tried to kiss the girl on the cheek when he sat back down, but she pulled away.
What a pompous prick. "Well I can tell we'll all be enjoying your speeches,” I lied. “Ellie Doyle?"
A girl stood up in the front of the room and began talking, but I tuned her out. Every now and then someone would say something funny. Or they would be so unbearably awkward that it was better that I wasn’t paying attention. I was just waiting to see what her name was. I read through the list on autopilot. I needed a name for that perfect face. A name for my dreams. Jesus. I sat down behind my desk. Just thinking about her was making me hard. What was I, twelve?
I looked down at my list for what felt like the millionth time. This wasn’t going to be her either. "Tyler Stevens?" I said.
I had to be getting close. I was near the end of the list and she looked so nervous.
"Penny Taylor?"
No one answered. I guess that’s not her. "Penny Taylor?" I asked again, ready to cross the name off my list.
She slowly stood up. "Hi everyone, I'm Penny."
I watched her cheeks turn pink. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and tell her she had no need to be nervous. Instead, I stared at her. Penny. It suited her. As soon as I heard it, I couldn’t imagine her name being anything else.
"Unfortunately, you'll need another of me for my thoughts,” she said and quickly sat back down.
"Weird," some girl scoffed near the front of the class. A few other people around her snickered.
Fuck off. That had been the most interesting answer I had ever heard during one of these exercises. I hoped my smile reassured her. "A penny for your thoughts. Well I guess I'll have to bring my piggy bank with me on Friday.” I forced my eyes away from her. “Mia Thompson?"
But the clanging sound of metal made me snap my eyes back to her. The boy sitting next to her had just tossed a penny onto her desk. He leaned over and whispered something to her.
My pulse slowed as I watched their exchange. I was tempted to yell at them for talking during my class. But that wasn’t why I was upset. I wanted that boy to stay away from her. What was his name? I scanned the list. Tyler Stevens.
“Class dismissed,” I said as soon as the last person went. But that didn’t shut Tyler Stevens up. He talked to her for a few more moments before winking at her and leaving the room.
As soon as he was gone, my eyes landed back on Penny. Her face flushed and she looked down at the ground as she walked toward the door. There was a small, tense smile on her face as she passed by my desk without looking at me.
I stood up from my chair and reached out for her before my brain could tell me to stop. My fingers grazed down her forearm.
I saw her shiver from my touch.
It was almost like I had the opposite reaction. If felt like she had shocked me. And that feeling of being able to breathe easier returned. "Miss Taylor, I'm sorry again about your shirt."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, no, I'm sorry."
I tried not to laugh. "Why are you sorry? I was the one that hit you with the door."
"I just meant, about taking your sweater. I'll bring it back."
"No rush. I have quite a few," I gestured to the one I was wearing. It was identical to the one I had given her, except it was a different color. I had put it on because I had been thinking of her this morning. And all last night. And all day yesterday.
She looked up into my eyes. My fantasies from the previous night wanted to escape. My eyes wandered to her lips. Her perfectly kissable lips. It was like they were begging for my attention.
"I didn't realize you were a professor," she said.
I smiled and forced myself to stop staring at her lips. Maybe I was right about why she looked shocked to see me walk into the classroom. Her flushed cheeks. The way she was staring at me. She wants me. She wishes I wasn’t a professor. The thought was numbing. It didn’t matter if she did. She was my student for Christ’s sake. "It's more fun when students think of me as their peer. I believe it fosters better learning." It was the most professional answer I could think of.