Everything About You

Since writing was a big part of most careers, I figured it couldn’t hurt. While I was a pro at sending texts and casual emails, when it came to professional correspondence, I could use some work. Plus, how hard could creative writing be? Unlike algebra.

Here I was, sitting in the third row, waiting for the professor and watching the seats fill up around me. I had my old Asus laptop set up on the flip-up desktop, hoping my electronic dinosaur held a charge long enough to get me through my classes today. The battery on my three-year old cell phone with the cracked screen was slowly dying, too. I just couldn’t afford to replace either soon-to-be paperweights.

That reminded me… I needed to find a job in which the hours would be flexible around my classes, studying and, of course, some partying. Since I was putting myself through school, the first and second were the most important. Partying, dating or hooking up with someone would be more of a reward for all my hard work.

I glanced at my flickering screen to skim over the syllabus one last time as everyone finished wandering in. When the chatter came to a halt, I looked up to see the professor wander in, drop off his briefcase on the table, write Dr. Mario Louden on the whiteboard and then turn to stand at the lectern.

Dr. Louden cleared his throat. “In case you’re lost, this is—”

The door was thrown open with a bang and a student rushed in. He paused, made eye contact with Dr. Louden and grimaced.

“Mr. Harris, this is one reason why you are repeating this course. You’ve known what time this class starts since you got your schedule at least two weeks ago. There is no excuse for you being tardy.”

“Sorry. Sorry,” he muttered, adjusting the gaping-open backpack half hanging off his shoulder.

“I expect this won’t happen again. Right, Mr. Harris? Otherwise, my suggestion is for you to drop out and find another class and instructor to insult with your tardiness, instead.”

“I need—” The student shook his head. “I swear I won’t be late again.”

That sounded like a lie to my own ears, but I didn’t give a shit about what was coming out of his mouth. I was more fixated on his actual lips and not the words being muttered from them.

He. Was. Absolutely. Beautiful.

A chunk of thick dark hair fell across his forehead and a flush had crept up his neck and into his cheeks.

I couldn’t keep my eyes from my future boyfriend—maybe I’d go so far as future husband even—as he jogged up the steps with his head down. Unfortunately, he disappeared somewhere behind me.

Hopefully, he didn’t notice me gawking.

And if he did… Oh well.

He would probably just think I’m staring at him because I thought he was rude to arrive late to class.

I heard the thump of his very heavy backpack hitting the floor a few rows behind me, a loud rustle and a slew of grumbles.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed. So did Dr. Louden who stared past me to the future Mr. Ronan Pak.

I liked that. Another man taking my name. If he really pushed it, I’d let him hyphenate. Harris-Pak.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me to start class, Mr. Harris?” Dr. Louden called out with one dark bushy eyebrow stuck high up his forehead.

A few sniggers and muffled laughs could be heard and I noticed everyone was turned around in their seats to check Mr. Harris out.

Correction. Mr. Harris-Pak.

A smile spread across my face and I pulled myself out of my fantasy to concentrate on today’s lesson as our professor began to teach. I certainly didn’t want him calling me out in front of the whole class for daydreaming.

Over an hour later, I was stuffing my shit back into my backpack, including my ancient computer—luckily, it hadn’t let me down during class—and thinking about the next time I’d see Mr. Harris, since I didn’t know his first name yet.

Yet. But I would.

I would make sure to get to class early on Friday and grab a seat toward the back so I could stare at my newest obsession without anyone knowing. Study him. Learn every detail to memory. For my fantasies.

When I stood, I heard a rush of feet coming down the steps behind me, so I waited and fiddled with my backpack, trying not to be too obvious.

I just wanted to get another look. Of the back this time, since I already liked what I’d seen of the front.

I was not disappointed as Harris jogged down the steps toward the front of the lecture hall. However, his backpack still gaped wide open and all the contents were at risk of falling out.

“Hey!” I called out in warning and quickly followed him down the steps.

He either didn’t hear me or was ignoring me as he rushed out of the lecture hall and into the corridor.