“Edith Willows.” I hate this TA calling my name, mostly because he’s annoying and acts superior just because he’s a math whiz. If you want to see a real math whiz, let me show you my coupon collection.
“Hey, that’s you, girl.” My classmate nudges me and I raise my hand, not looking up.
“Uh, thanks.” I mumble, finally looking up to make sure the TA from hell marks my presence. As he checks me off, I see our new professor walk into the room. I feel my heart skip a beat, leaving me ready to dry heave.
“Wow, hot damn,” the girl next to me whispers, dropping her pencil and book to the floor right next to me, drawing half the classes attention to our corner of the room. Crap, this is not good. It is mortifying to see this man again after several years of keeping him firmly locked away in my fantasies.
Jack Hamilton is teaching this course? Jack-fucking-god-like-Hamilton is teaching my last block of statistics?! There is no way in hell I am going to get through this unscathed. He had been a student teacher back in my hometown, and now he is doing big things for some business he started. “Math wizard” was what everyone called him back then, but I only saw him as a freak of nature, so good-looking and godly. I spent my entire junior year with my brain only processing every tenth word he said. My grades suffered because I couldn’t keep my teenage mind focused. I had been mortified when my underwear were damp and messy after he lectured in my Principles of Math course. I was wet for him every damn day for an entire year, until he left for bigger and better things, leaving me behind in shithole New Jersey. If he is teaching this course, I am definitely in big trouble. I glance around the room swearing others can hear my heart beating.
“Good morning, class.”
Fifty-five voices responded in unison, including mine, although I’m sure no actual words came out of my mouth. His voice coated me in nostalgia like warm tea with lemon and honey, both tart and sweet, reminding me why I worked my ass off to get out of my shithole town. Nobody would want a dumb girl like me and, as my parents often reminded me, I was going nowhere fast. I stare at Jack Hamilton, admiring his smart-fitting suit, which probably cost as much as my first semester tuition. Navy pinstripe jacket and pants… He definitely is not a tweed man and, for that, I am thankful. His shocking blond hair is cut close to his head, and his bright blue eyes suck me in. Shelby would probably say they were “azure pools of ecstasy”, but all I really want right now is to slink down in my seat and slip away. I have become an embarrassing puddle of teen crush and disappointment. I can feel the damning clench of my stomach as he goes on to tell us why he is taking over for Dr. Roth and that he is glad to be back teaching this semester. I sure as hell wasn’t. I didn’t even know he was an adjunct here. He is screwing with my average grade mojo and my ability to blend in and get through this necessary evil known as college. How am I supposed to concentrate on passing this class when all I can think about is going back to my apartment after class, sliding my fingers down my pants to part my damp lips, imagining him kissing and licking me. Ugh, this isn’t going to end well for me. It never did. Here he was, going on and on about internal and external validity measures, while I just want to push past students to get to him, knocking over that stupid podium to rip his jacket off and have my way with him. I must be absolutely crazy. Mental illness must run in my family and now I can confirm I had it, too, because I am panting and hot for the teacher. Cursing my luck, I might as well have the fucking flu.
“Alright, class. Here’s today’s quiz assignment. You’ll have until the end of class to complete it,” the annoying TA says in his nasally voice, passing blue books and test sheets to those of us sitting at the end of the rows. Great. Freaking great. I wasted the entire class daydreaming about climbing on top of Professor Jack Hamilton, and Daniel Munson, the freak TA, is pushing a book in my face. There is no way I’ll be able to concentrate, let alone answer these questions. As the minutes tick by, nothing substantial is scratched onto the pages. I close the book, grab my bag, and stand to leave.
“Times up.” Daniel smiles and snatches the book from my hand, adding it to his pile, walking away.
Students file past me down the risers of the classroom lecture hall, one clipping me in the shoulder and mumbling an insincere apology. Yeah, I’m not sorry, either. At least I’m not knocking them down for real, just in my stupid fantasy. I try to get out of there as quickly as I can, squeezing my eyes shut and praying he’d just forget who I am and what had happened between us all those years ago.