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I expect him to really let me have it this time; but thankfully, he only raises his brow and shakes his head in disappointed exasperation before continuing with his lecture.
A lecture I’ve almost entirely tuned out at this point.
The paper is a hilarious, caricature-style cartoon drawing of the professor snapping at me when I walked into the room. The professor’s stereotypical look is exaggerated, and he has both feet off the ground in the drawing, his arms gesticulating wildly, with squiggly lines and special characters around his head representing his outburst.
The character that stands on the other end of the page is clearly me, my face blank with two big open eyes and a straight, flat line to represent my mouth.
Still pressing my lips tight, I turn my head just a little to look at the guy next to me who obviously just drew this on the fly. He’s still got his eyes fastened to the front of the room, not acknowledging me at all—except for the fact that his grin is now a little wider.
I look at the drawing again. It’s really impressive, with a unique, eye-catching style. I wonder if the guy next to me is an art student.
I try my best to focus on the lecture again, but it’s not easy. It’s especially not easy as anxiety about being late for my next class creeps up on me. Crap, I haven’t even checked ahead of time to find out where exactly on campus it is.
Acting surreptitious again, I fish my phone out of my pocket and open the Maps app. My stomach drops as I realize I’m going to have to do another sprint to get there in time.
Unless, of course, my Psychology professor decides to be nice and end the class, say, just five minutes early.
I mean, it is the first day, after all.
Yeah, I didn’t think so, either.
Class ends at 11:50 on the dot. I mean to the second.
Not 11:49:57. 11:50:00.
Which means even if I run as fast across campus as I safely can, I’m still at risk of being late to the second class in a row.
The prospect of incurring the wrath of a second hard-ass professor isn’t appealing.
When class is finally dismissed, I slide my stuff into my bookbag and stand up quickly. I feel like I’m pulled in two directions—wanting to talk to the guy next to me who slid me that drawing, but also wanting to hurry to my next class to get there on time.
“Nice drawing,” I blurt out to him. I’m standing and all packed up before he’s even moved his notebook off his desk.
He turns to me with a kind of measured, cool, casual motion that tells me he’s not the type to ever be in a hurry. My stomach does a twist as his bright, emerald-green eyes lock on mine. As stunning as his face was from profile, it’s even more so head-on, a dazzling collection of straight lines, sharp angles, and striking features.
It feels like my insides melt when he winks at me. “For your eyes only,” he says, his voice a confident and suave low rumble.
I feel warmth quickly snake up my neck and spread through my face.
I also feel something else: the urgency to start jogging to my next class. I’ve already dilly-dallied too long as it is.
“Well, I really have to run to my next class. You’ll be here Thursday?”
A grin carves deep simples into his cheeks. “It is a Tuesday, Thursday class. So, yeah, I’ll be here.”
“Right,” I say, the word coming out on the heels of an embarrassed laugh. “See you then. I better get going! Bye!” I blurt out those three farewells in quick succession as I’m already hurrying out of the room, glancing down at my phone to remind myself where exactly I’m going.
For the next two minutes my thoughts are occupied with making sure I don’t slam into anyone as I run across campus again, weaving through the packed walkways to pass those who aren’t in as much of a hurry as I am.
I.E., everyone.
Once I arrive at my next class with a minute and a half to spare and my anxiety subsides, my mind makes room for another thought. More a feeling than a thought: deja-vu.
There was something about those emerald-green eyes I just looked into …
6
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