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The tiered seating with fold-down adjustable desktops are fancy compared to what they had two years ago. I take a seat at the first desk on the outside and pull out a notebook, and open to the first page, and click my pen to start writing whatever Noah has to say.
“If you will flip your syllabus to page two. These are the books that we will be reading, discussing, and writing papers on this semester. The campus library has eight copies in stock, so if I were you, I would just buy a copy so you don’t have to wait for someone to return it.”
I flip to the second page, and on the list is Thirteen Problems by Agatha Christie. Well, I already have a copy of that, so I’m good. A smile takes over my face, and as I look up, Noah is staring at me. Try not to be so obvious.
Seats creak around the room as students move around in their desks, but it doesn’t break the intense eye contact between us. He smiles and begins reading the entire list of books. There are ten. I watch his lips move as he talks, and remember how nice they felt against mine last night, or how magical they were against my breasts.
“That’s all I have for this class today. We will start the normal class schedule on Wednesday, and you will need to read the first two chapters of Great Expectations and be prepared to discuss them in class.”
Everyone starts putting things away in their backpacks, zippers opening and shutting, and then students start to file out of the room. I stay in my seat because I need to address this. Noah is my fucking professor.
After about ten minutes of waiting for all the students to leave, there is only one lingering still sitting at a desk in the back, texting away on her phone.
I sling my bag strap on my shoulder and head down the aisle that leads down to the teaching area with a podium and a stool. His desk has a laptop, notepad and a couple pens.
“Can I help you, Ms. Haddon?” he says, not looking up from his laptop.
“So, you know my last name now?”
“You are the only Leslie in this class.”
I look up to see if the girl is gone so I can speak freely, but she is still there.
“Listen, I didn’t know you were a professor, and if I knew that last night, this would have never happened.”
He adjusts his tie. “So, you enjoyed yourself, but now that we have discovered this, you wish it didn’t happen?”
“No, I don’t regret it, but I can’t sleep with my professor,” I whisper.
“And I can’t sleep with a student.”
He looks up at the double doors at the back of the classroom open up, and students start filing in. Why are they so damn early for the next class?
“Listen, we will talk about this later, Ms. Haddon.”
I grip my backpack strap on my shoulder and walk up the stairs and when I reach the top, I look back at Noah. Two students have made their way to talk to him.
How am I going to sit in this classroom three times a week and not imagine him in between my legs?
6
NOAH
I’m the type of person who doesn’t need an alarm. My internal alarm is enough. I am up and out of bed by five every morning, and can’t remember the last time I’ve been late to anything. Punctuality is important. Especially, on the first day of classes.
I get into the shower, and wash off all the excitement from earlier this morning before putting on my suit. Okay, so maybe I’m the weird one that still wears them, but I like to appear professional. Others might wear khakis or dress pants and a polo, but I’m not the type.
After putting the pod into the coffeemaker and grabbing my mug, I notice a little pep in my step. I wonder what that could be from? Finding Leslie isn’t something I intended to happen, but we were both in the right place at the right time.
She texted me last night to let me know she made it home. I couldn’t go to sleep until I knew she was safe and sound. There’s some excitement around getting to see her again that leaves me ready to get this school day over with so I can speak to her.
What if after thinking it over, she doesn’t want to see me again?
I shake my head, trying to get rid of those ridiculous thoughts. We had sex. She doesn’t strike me as the type to go home with random guys.
The coffee ceases pouring into the cup, and I put a couple of swigs of creamer inside before taking a gulp. Perfect. I have four classes to teach today, and then the possibility of seeing Leslie. Is it too soon to ask her to dinner? I’ve been out of the dating game, so I don’t know what is customary. I’ll just play by my own rules.
Me: Would you like to go to dinner tonight?
