“Yikes. Well, did we have to pick this section that’s eight in the morning?” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “You seriously owe me one.”
“You agreed to it months ago! Eight isn’t even that early; I’ve been up since six.”
“Same,” Isaac agrees, sipping his coffee. Again, he shutters.
I pull out a bottle of water and an instant coffee packet from my bag, handing it to him. “There’s no reason to suffer. Sorry I don’t have cream.”
“Thanks.” His grin lifts from ear to ear, accepting my little offering. Opening the bottle, he adds in the powdered coffee, then pours a little of the latte in before shaking it. “You’re an angel.”
Yet again, I have fucking butterflies. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just a guy. A hot guy with adorable dimples and sexy glasses… but a guy.
Aubrey begins telling me about a date she went on last night and how she has no plans on seeing him again because, accordingto her, he chews too loudly. I understand how it could be a bit of a turn-off, but based on everything else she’s told me about him, he sounds like a great fit for her—comes from a wealthy family, has plans for political office, and has maybe four percent body fat. My dear friend has a type. Unfortunately, she’s looking for a unicorn—someone to fall madly in love with who will also allow her the freedom and flexibility that comes with a man’s small fortune. He doesn’t exist, but I’d kill for an ounce of her confidence that she'll find him.
“Okay, class, my name is Dr. Forrester, and I’ll be your professor for International Politics this semester,” he proudly announces, and the room becomes quiet. “If this is your degree concentration, it’s a prerequisite for most of the upper division international relations courses.” He hands a stack of syllabi to each person in the front row to pass back. “As you’ll note, I’ll be taking attendance daily. Three tardies or absences will result in you failing my class.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aubrey quietly grumbles, blowing out a long sigh.
“You’ll have two exams—the midterm and final. You’ll also have two major projects with corresponding papers. One is an individual assignment, the other will be a debate project.”
With Dr. Forrester moving to the other side of the room and out of earshot, Aubrey leans in to whisper, “Dibs on Isaac for a debate partner.”
It shouldn’t bother me—I hardly know him—but something possessive festering within me has me snapping, “No.”
“Do you have an issue with the assignment?” Dr. Forrester scolds.
I shake my head, cheeks hot from embarrassment. For a guy who seemed so nervous walking in, he’s actually a bit of a dick. Then again, I should’ve been paying attention in the first place.
“As I was saying, I will assign partners based on your first paper. The goal is to challenge you. You’ll need to choose a debate topic from a given list, then take the side you’d normally disagree with. For example: are you for tariffs in hopes of strengthening manufacturing? Then you’ll be researching how to argue against it. Does that make sense?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “Great. The grading scale and other pertinent information is in the syllabus. If you have individual questions, you may see me during office hours or send me an email. For now, we’ll begin our conversation in chapter three of your textbook—relations with neighboring countries. For the purposes of this discussion, I’ll start by dividing you into three groups: the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Number yourself off into one, two, and three. Ones move to the left, twos in the middle, and threes on the right.”
We do as he asks and I end up part of Team Canada with Isaac. We join the others in the middle, and a girl toward the back takes the lead, asking, “Are any of you Canadian or have family from there?”
“My dad was born in British Columbia. He lives here, but has dual citizenship,” someone out of view replies.
“I’m Canadian,” Isaac offers, and all eyes fall on him.
“Were you actually born there?” our unappointed team leader accuses. My brows pinch; why does she care?
I quietly tell him, “You don’t have to answer that.”
“It’s fine.” He then raises his voice to reply, “Born and a citizen.”
I inwardly face-palm. Of course the first guy I’ve been attracted to in months isn’t even from here, and will likely return to whatever province he’s from once he’s done with his degree.
I sure know how to pick ‘em.
“Great,” she beams. “Whatever he throws at us, we’ll be ready.”
“The rest of us also know plenty about Canadian and US relations,” a guy off the side adds.
Isaac gently places his hand on the small of my back, and my entire body simultaneously combusts and melts into a damn puddle. Trying my hardest to not be affected, I suggest, “Perhaps we should see what’s expected of us before we decide anything as a group? For all we know we’ll be researching anything from trade deficits to supporting another country at war.”
“Now that you’ve been divided,” Dr. Forrester shouts, “you must decide what the best course of action is to survive, if you have no established relationships with your neighboring countries. You have seven minutes.”
Isaac leans in and whispers beside my ear, “Should I fuck with them and give them made-up facts?”
I stifle a laugh, briefly drawing my lips into my mouth. “Shh, you’re going to get us into trouble.”
“Seven minutes? What is this? A basement makeout game?” someone in our group chuckles.
