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EMMA
“You’re wearing that?”
My adorable yet often judgmental best friend Meghan eyes me up and down, tilting her head to observe me over the wireframe of her round glasses. Her soft peach lips purse into an O, and I can almost feel the disappointment rolling off her, as well-placed as it may be.
“Yes.” I smile brightly at her, smoothing my hands down the tight white shirt that strains over my large chest and the knee-length yellow leather skirt I’ve managed to squeeze into. The buttons on my shirt are working overtime keeping my girls at bay, and one strong breath could ruin everything. “Why, you don’t think he’ll notice?”
“Honey.” Meghan chuckles and nudges into me gently while we walk down the corridor. “You look stunning. There’s no way he won’t notice. I just don’t think you’ll get the reaction you’re looking for.”
“Why, what’s he going to do?” I smirk cheekily. “Tell me to get out of his class and change into something more appropriate? Then I can invite him along.”
“Emma!” Meghan’s cheeks flare crimson, and the blush quickly spreads down her neck, disappearing into the collar of the fluffy cardigan she pulls around her shoulders. “You shouldn’t talk about a teacher that way.”
“Why? I’d give anything for Professor Barlowe to help me into something more fit for class. I do my best learning naked.”
“You’re impossible.” Meghan rolls her eyes and adjusts the bag strap on her shoulder. “All I’m saying is you’ve squashed a lot of curves into a very tight outfit, and you’re heading into a four-hour lecture.”
“Beauty is pain. Curves like these shouldn’t be hidden away.” Reaching the door to my lecture hall, I pause dramatically, much to Meghan’s amusement. “I’ll be fine. Trust me; I’ve had years of practice being a curvy girl squashing into uncomfortable leather seats. I might as well look good doing it.”
“If you say so.” She glances past me, sticks out an arm to wave quickly at the third member of our group, Ana, then she flashes me a wide smile. “Catch you later!”
“Bye! Text me after class.”
Meghan melts into the crowd, becoming another spoke in the wheel of surging students searching for their classes. She means well, deep down. Meghan’s always been much more conservative than me, and while I’ve been trying to draw her out of her shell over the years, sometimes her sensible nature is precisely what I need.
Not today, though.
Today, I am determined to get Professor Barlowe to look at me as more than just another student in his class. Months of pining over the most attractive teacher I’ve ever laid eyes on have culminated in this moment. My words and actions have fallen flat when trying to get his attention, so now I’ll try the good old tactic of seduction through visual stimulation.
“Emma!” Ana half rises in her seat to greet me, scanning her eyes down my body while she wrestles with the wild mane of curls around her head. “Why do you look so fucking tasty?”
A warm appreciation blooms in my chest as I take my seat and align myself so I can help her pin down her hair.
“Today is the day Professor Barlowe will finally realize he’s deeply in love with me and whisk me away for a night of mind-blowing passion and sex.”
“He’s got competition,” Ana remarks, her voice slightly muffled as her chin hits her chest. “I’m ready to do that myself.”
“Thanks.” I laugh softly and successfully pin Ana’s hair in place.
She lifts her head and flashes me a grateful smile, then settles back with a sigh. “Have you finished the personal reflection story yet?”
Immediately, the warmth from thinking about Professor Barlowe melts away. I slump back in my chair, pulling several notepads from my bag and tucking them onto the desk. My bag sits neatly between my booted ankles when I’m finished.
“No. Honestly, when I write fiction I’m trying to separate myself from reality. I don’t understand why we have to put a piece of ourselves into this work.”
“Same,” Ana groans, rapidly tapping her pen against the desk. “Only my therapist is allowed to look that deep inside me.”
“Maybe I’ll ask sexy Professor Barlowe to help me.”
“Girl, how many months have you been lusting after him now? Should I be worried that you’re going a little crazy?”
“No, I have a plan.” It’s been too many months to count, but ever since I first saw him, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him even though he hasn’t shown me a lick of interest. That’s only made me more desperate for the simplest of things, like a glance in my direction or a touch of fingers when he hands me back a paper.
She lifts one perfectly penciled brow. “Okay, I believe you.”
“Trust me,” I say confidently.
