I can’t hear a word Professor Evans is saying, mostly because I’m not paying attention, I’m too tired for that, but as I sit here, my chin resting on the palm of my hand with my arm propped up on the arm rest, I find myself staring at him.
Today he's wearing a white button-up shirt that stretches over his taut upper-body, and tight light grey pants, his thigh muscles flexing under the fabric. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a little of the chest hair underneath.
He’s sexy without even trying, and to be honest I don’t think he seems to notice the effect he has on every single girl in this room, either that or he doesn’t care.
God, he really is beautiful.
I picture what his body looks like, all that hard muscle hidden under his shirt. I imagine running my fingers across his hard chest, letting them trail over the dips and valleys of his muscled torso. I wonder what it would be like to run my hands through the thick strands of his hair and imagine what it would be like for him to touch me.Reallytouch me.
I'm jolted out of my daydream by a jab into my side. I look to my left to see Amy staring at me wide-eyed in warning as she tips her head to the front of the class where I see Professor Evans looking at me with a hard expression, his arms folded across his chest in annoyance.
“And she’s back in the room ladies and gentlemen,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. A few snickers and hushed comments fill the room from the other students.
“Sorry,” I whisper, heat rising in my cheeks as I sit up a little straighter.
“Am I boring you Miss Taylor?” he asks.
“No.”
“Good. So how about we concentrate instead of daydreaming from now on?”
I stay silent, averting my gaze, letting it drop into my lap as my cheeks heat up, though I’m pretty sure I was flushed anyway from when I was checking him out only a minute ago.
The rest of the class is awkward as fuck, and I try my hardest to listen, and to make notes, not wanting to give him yet another reason to humiliate me. I’m almost scared to look up for fear of him shooting daggers at me. I hate the fact that I’ve made myself a target, first I show up late and now I’ve been caught daydreaming in the middle of class.
What next?
When class finally ends, everyone filters out of the room slowly and I don’t hang around, I jump up from my seat, shoot a quick goodbye to Amy before hurrying towards the exit as quickly as possible.
But I’m too late.
“Miss Taylor,” Professor Evans calls from behind me and I come to a halt, my stomach sinking. I turn to him. “A word?” he asks, beckoning me over.
Shit.
I make my way over to him slowly and stop as I reach his desk, the front of my thighs just brushing the edge of it as I stand opposite him. The first thing that hits me is the sweet, musky scent of his cologne, wafting into my nostrils and filling my senses.
He places the pen he’s holding down on the desk and leans back in his chair, his eyes finding mine.
“Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair to the side of me.
I place my bag down on the floor and sit down, fidgeting with my hands.
I glance up to his face, and my eyes lock on his. They’re the most stunning colour of blue I’ve ever seen.
Topaz.
The colour of the ocean as it sparkles in the sunlight.
“How is your assignment going? I see you haven’t submitted it yet.”
The assignment… shit. When I managed to plug my laptop back in this morning, I hadn’t even gotten halfway.
“I’m sorry I haven’t submitted it yet, it completely slipped my mind.” I lie.
He raises an eyebrow, seeing straight through my lie. “I believe I put your tutorial with me at two-thirty this afternoon?” I nod slowly, focusing my gaze down. “I expect to see you there,withyour complete assignment. You're excused,” he dismisses without even a glance in my direction as he returns his attention back to the papers that litter his desk.
I stand up from the seat, grab my bag and hurry out of the room.
