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I’m babbling now. It’s like my lips are moving without my permission. I wonder if I’ve sounded callous, but then Chloe catches my eye and smiles as if she understands me. “I’m sorry. What would you get?”
I shrug. “I’ve got no idea. I’m not very… visually talented?”
“Maybe the tattoo artist could give you some advice,” Chloe says, and then she erupts into a big, beaming grin as she looks over my shoulder.
I turn, following her gaze. My insides twist in lust. My heart starts its predictable yet distracting pounding. A fine layer of sweat instantly covers me.
It’s Professor Stellar. Only today, he looks hellishly dark and focused. His eyes are narrowed, and he seems tense all over. It’s like he’s ready for a fight or ready to claim somebody fiercely. Or maybe he did last night, had some primal steamy time, and that’s why he looks like that. I’m torturing myself.
“Why don’t we ask Professor Stellar?” Chloe says. “He’s got ink. I bet he could help.”
I turn quickly to Chloe. “No, please. Don’t say anything.”
“Professor—”
“Chloe.”
She stops, flashing me a look of apology. I think she got too excited, but it’s too late. Professor Stellar has come to a stop next to our table. He looks so massive as he stands over us, staring down with red eyes as if he hasn’t slept. His hands are tight fists at his sides.
“Yes?” he says.
“Uh…” Chloe looks at me, eyes wide. “I wanted to ask…”
My cheeks are burning. I try to remember what Mom said about professors. She’s right. Up close, with his steaminess so near, I can see how mismatched we are or would be, but that doesn’t stop my body from pulsing. My body is longing for his.
“About tattoos,” I say because the tension is too much. “I’m thinking of getting one.”
A smirk briefly touches his lips, but his blue eyes are steady and blue. “What sort?”
Is that funny? I want to ask. Me getting a tattoo?
“I’m not sure. Something to honor my dad. He passed when I was eight.”
Luckily, this time, I manage to hold back the babbling.
“I could’ve helped you once,” he says, laughing in a reminiscent way.
“You were a tattoo artist?” Chloe says, and I wonder if she’s flirting with him, and the thought makes me sick.
“Once,” Professor Stellar nods.
“What happened?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Life, I suppose. I found other passions. I can get you some recommendations.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
He tightens his fists when I say professor. It’s like a reverberation moves through his whole body, and I wonder if he likes it, hearing that word on my lips. Does he want me to say it in other contexts and under different circumstances? I wonder if it makes him ache all over, like thinking of it, all this, him, makes me ache.
“Sure,” he says, turning away.
“What climbed up his ass and died?” Chloe says once he’s gone.
“He definitely seemed angry.”
“Yeah, I’ll say. No, thank you. I don’t need some grumpy man in my life.”
She laughs, and I smile. Not because it’s funny but because it means she’s not interested, as if that has any bearing on my life, whether or not Chloe wants him. It shouldn’t matter, but I’m relieved.
“Think about love in a technical sense,” Professor Stellar says, pacing up and down in front of the lectern. His black shirt hugs his biceps each time he gestures with his hands. “It’s fairly modern, the general idea we have of it: the songs and the Hollywood stuff. Love was more like duty once. In many sonnets, Shakespeare argues they can be the same. Love and duty. You can experience the primal passion while knowing you’d never fail in your duty.”
He stops, and I swear, for a second, he looks right at me. A tingle travels from my lower half, up over my belly, and to my breasts. My clit rubs against my underwear. My lips feel warm and swollen. I distance myself from it, viewing it biologically, because it’s so damn inappropriate. He’s making me burn here in class.
“You might argue, for example, that a Shakespearean view of love is being willing to live and die for somebody, to combine the romanticism of Romeo with the blunt reality of My Mistress’ Eyes.”
Is he saying our love will be like that? We’ll have the passion and the fire and the heat, and we’ll also have the unquestionable knowledge that we belong together. We’ll fight to stay together, no matter what the world throws at us.
A student raises their hand and offers a new perspective, but I’m stuck on Professor Stellar’s words. I can’t stop thinking about those words, my body responding to them, my core getting so hot, burning. No, not here. I can’t think like that.
I spend the rest of the class staring down at my notes. I don’t speak because I’m not sure I’ll be able to. That talk about love and duty has triggered too much in me. Soon, it’s the end of the class. We all start filing out, but then Professor Stellar approaches me.
