to someone in the front row. He stands, and my heart freezes. Kyle. Every semblance of self-control exits my body. I suck in my breath, wishing I could disappear, bury myself under a ton of rock.
“What’s wrong?”
I turn to Gina but can’t speak. My mouth is full of cotton.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shake my head and return my attention to Kyle. He’s already on the third row.
“Mr. Hadley is my TA. He’s passing out your syllabus. Don’t lose it. It’s the only one you’ll receive, so protect it with your lives.”
There are a few snickers.
“Dramatic much?” someone says.
Professor Spears breaks a pencil, snaps it in half with her fingers. “This isn’t high school. You don’t have to be here. If you aren’t in your seats, ready to learn at exactly nine o’clock, you will not be allowed to participate.” Then she points to someone and says, “Get out. You’re no longer welcome.”
I hear a gasp. A girl rises and steps around other student’s feet. “Bitch,” she stage whispers. There are a few giggles.
“Keep it up and I’ll have you thrown out of school.”
The girl clamps her lips shut and walks to the door, throwing it open. The door closes behind her and the room is silent. Even Kyle has paused in passing out the syllabus. It’s so quiet. All I can hear is breathing and the pounding of my heart.
Kyle moves to the next row. Three away from mine. I’m tempted to get up and leave, but unlike some, I want to be here. I want a degree.
Gina scribbles something on a piece of paper and shoves it toward me.
What’s your problem? Bitchy Spears? Or hottie TA?
“Anyone else feel the need to leave my class?” Ms. Spears asks.
No one says anything, which isn’t surprising.
“Excellent. Once you have your syllabus, review it. You’ll notice there’s a paper due each week…” She continues speaking, but I’ve stopped listening.
My body is trained on Kyle. Two away.
Gina adds more question marks to the paper.
I swallow. My first thought is to deny, deny, deny. What’s the point though?
She sets her pencil on top of the paper.
I scribble back: I’ll tell you later.
A grimace crosses her face, and she sniffles. I’m worried that she’s crying and look over. She gives me a huge smile. I notice her eyes. They are wide, like she has them pinned open with invisible toothpicks. She writes: so it’s the hottie TA. She sniffs again.
Maybe she’s getting a cold.
Are you sick? I write.
No, she answers.
Okay.
A slight breeze moves my hair, and I immediately know why. Kyle is at our row. My heart is pounding so loud, like it wants to knock me over, drag me down, and punch me out. I know I need to stay away from him. I know he’s probably dangerous, evil. But my body doesn’t give a crap what I think. The sight of Kyle, the way he moves, stands, and breathes; he makes my body ache in places I didn’t know could ache.
The cotton balls in my mouth are now accompanied by sandpaper.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him, I keep telling myself. But I can’t resist, and I glance at him through my lashes.
He shakes his head, glances at the paper Gina and I have been writing on, and then smiles, an enormous, beautiful, all-consuming smile. At me.
He read what we wrote. My face heats and my hands start to shake. I’m humiliated.
Gina giggles takes the stack of papers he hands her, grabs one, and passes the rest to me. I do the same, passing them to the next person.
Never in the history of syllabuses has the one in my hands been more interesting. I pretend to focus, keeping my eyes on my paper, praying my heart will slow down.
Seconds that feel like hours slip by and Gina sets the condemning paper on my desk. On it is masculine writing with a number and the words: call me!
Ms. Spears is still talking. Probably about the syllabus, but I can’t hear a word. La Traviata: Prelude to Act 1 is playing in my head, the aching opening notes matching my heart. My lips part and a squeak escapes my throat.
I’m losing it, all grasp on reality.
Still I can’t help myself. I watch Kyle's descending movement and am mesmerized by the way his shoulder blades move effortlessly under his shirt, the way his muscles flex when he takes a step.
Gina steals the paper and scribbles four words, meaningless when