Lila
Thursday night, our men’s basketball team had a game against the University of Tennessee. A much bigger school with amuchlarger budget. We were major underdogs, and had very little chance of winning.
But the entire campus was buzzing with excitement and hope all week, to the point that it was all anyone would talk about on Thursday. And not just my students—other members of the faculty, too.
“I’d love to go,” I told Professor Galloway. “I went to one game last semester, but none this year.”
“We have a faculty suite,” he assured me. “Lots of room, less noise. We’ll see you there.”
I finished my classes that afternoon, spent a respectable amount of time at my office hours, then walked straight from my office to the game. The basketball stadium was on the edge of campus, only a few blocks from the bar where Brock worked.
There was a hum of excitement in the air as I walked through the arena, finding the escalators to take me to the suite level. Inside were Professor Galloway, Professor Fairbanks, andseveral others from the Criminology Department. There were also half a dozen others I didn’t recognize.
“We split the suite with the Astronomy Department,” Professor Galloway told me while welcoming me inside. “Most of them are usually stargazing at night, so that means most of the suite is for us. Everyone seems to have come tonight, though!”
I went to the in-suite bar and poured myself a glass of wine. Then I spent ten minutes doing my least favorite thing in the world: mingling. Small talk bored me, especially with coworkers, but I knew the value of putting in some face time.
“All my classes are great this semester,” I said. “Aside from some embarrassing presentations in my Computer Crime class, I’ve been impressed with my students.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Professor Galloway said.
“There’s one particularly troublesome student pestering me,” Professor Astoria chimed in.
“I bet I know the one,” Professor Galloway said.
Professor Astoria nodded. “Kayleigh Harper. Her father owns Harper Ford and Honda, a fact of which she has made sure to remind me at least once a week. She flunked her first exam. Her written answers were embarrassing, with no coherent points made. I gave her a thirty-five, and that was being generous!”
“I believe it,” I said.
“Since then,” Professor Astoria went on, “she has begun visiting my office hours. Every single day. While wearingincreasinglyscandalous clothing. She shows quite a bit of cleavage, and I suspect her motivations.” He pursed his lips. “It is not working, I assure all of you. But if I were a single man, and in my younger days? I must admit, it would be a dangerous temptation.”
“As educators, we must always be vigilant,” Professor Galloway said.
“Indeed,” I said. Suddenly, it felt very warm in the suite. I excised myself and walked out to the arena seats that were connected to the suite. The noise out here was much louder, but the airflow immediately cooled my skin.
And then my phone buzzed. It was a new group text with two of my students.
Jace: You’re looking gorgeous this evening.
Brock: He’s right. You are.
I smiled and tried to discreetly scan the crowd below, but there were thousands of people in the arena.
Me: Kind of creepy, spotting me in this enormous arena and then making me feel like I’m being watched.
Jace: You were on the jumbotron for a few seconds. They’ve been panning through the crowd showing fans.
Brock: How’d you end up in the expensive seats?
Me: A fringe benefit of being a professor.
Jace: One of many ;-)
Brock: Come hang out with us in the student section. It’s more fun down here.
The student section was across the arena, right behind one of the baskets. Everyone was on their feet over there. It definitely seemed more appealing than mingling with my coworkers for two more hours.
“Are you a fan of basketball?” Professor Galloway asked while stepping up next to me.
