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“Did you say syllabi? Like the fancy ass plural of syllabus? You can’t just say the schedule?”
“No. I have the student loan for this university to prove I’m so fancy I should wear a top hat—so I’m entitled to give things the Greek or Latin plural every chance I get. It’s really the only perk to getting a degree, apart from the ability to work in my chosen field.”
“Okay, Professor Fancy Pants, tell me about your syllabi,” she rolled her eyes.
“The major projects are spread out enough that I won’t be working on two at once, which is better than last semester. I about lost my mind.”
“I remember. I practically had to give you IV Easy Mac n Cheese to keep you alive. I made you leave the house to go to yoga one time when you were busy, and I swear you hissed at me.”
“If I didn’t bite you, you can’t complain,” I said, finishing my burger.
“Right, okay. So, how’s the new professor, the one you haven’t had before? Is he some buff meatball, all muscles and no brain?”
“No, he seems okay. The good news is he runs a gym and he’s taking interns—or at least one intern, he didn’t say how many, to work at his gym and get some on the job training. It would look good on my resume, and it’s super inclusive, basically my catnip.”
“You should go for it. The place sounds perfect for you. Now what’s the bad news?”
“Um, this,” I said, pulling up the screenshot I took from his Linked In.
“Oh, shit. He’s not a buff meatball. He’s goddamn sex on a stick. Seriously. I’m sweating. My body is heating up and making sweat right now from looking at his picture. I can tell you right now, if that was my professor, I would a hundred percent—"
“Do not tell me some lewd act you would do to him. I have to sit in his class and I will not have that picture in my head, so help me God!” I said, snatching the phone and deleting the photo.
“Really? But I was gonna say something really graphic so you’d know just how sexy I think he looks,” she laughed.
“Please, spare me. I don’t want that image in my brain. I would have weird flashbacks of you and him while I was in class.”
“I guess I’ll have mercy on you this time.”
“Thanks. Just forget I showed you his picture.”
“You’re already wishing you hadn’t deleted it so you could fantasize about Professor Oh-Yeah-Give-It-to-Me-Harder,” she teased.
“Stop, you’re gross,” I protested.
“Your face turned red!” she crowed. “You’re fantasizing about him already!”
“I’m blushing because I’m embarrassed for you that you just said that in a public restaurant where there are other humans who have ears,” I lied.
“So, you think you’ll get some extra workouts in with him?” Rina asked, waggling her eyebrows.
“No way,” I said.
“Well, what if you get the internship? You might stay late at the gym, and he might show you how some of the new equipment works… one thing leads to another and, bam!”
She clapped her hands when she said ‘bam,’ and I jerked back from the table. “Jeez, enough with the cheap theatrics,” I said. “I’m pretty sure nothing is supposed to make that sound in a gym or a bedroom.”
“That’s just sad. No loud noises or fireworks for you?”
“I have work to do. Studying, Zumba,syllabi,” I smiled.
“Thanks for meeting up with me. It was fun. Even if you are horribly undersexed. At least your fantasy life will heat up if you have to look at that instructor a couple times a week. You’ll be helpless to resist the filthy dreams. Trust me.”
“I remember a stranger-danger lesson we had in grade school when they told us anytime someone said filthy and trust me in the same sentence we should tell a trusted adult,” I said.
“Ha ha. I’m not trying to lure you into my van with candy,” she said.
I hugged her and said good night. I had to get some rest so I’d be ready for my classes the next day. When I was trying to fall asleep, though, I found out that Rina’s prophecy came true. I couldn’t help thinking about how much fun some private lessons with Professor Parks could be.
