I forced myself to focus on the lecture and write down some notes. I was doing very well in college and I wasn’t about to fudge that up now. My mother would kill me.

Halfway through class I cleared my throat and whispered to Kent, "You were saying about the talking part?"

Kent chuckled softly and whispered back, his breath on my neck giving me goosebumps and hard nipples. “I was saying that I’m really looking forward to talking with you after class.”

The professor stopped in the middle of his discussion about surrealism and Salvador Dali. "I see I'm boring a few of my students. Mr…?”

Kent turned his face away from me and I felt a loss and a squeeze in my chest. The professor was staring at Kent with an eyebrow raised, the slide projector remote pressed against his rounded belly.

"Lytle… sir…"

The professor grimaced, clearly annoyed. "Would you like to talk about Salvador Dali since you seem to be interested in speaking during my lecture?”

Kent ran his hand through his hair. Oh god, what had I done? Was he going to flunk art history class because of me? I was about to confess my guilt when Kent started to speak.

"He was born in 1904 in Spain, died in 1989. He's the father of surrealism in today’s standards of art. His most elaborate work was titled ‘The Persistence of Memory’ crafted in 1931."

Some of the other students mumbled to each other, awed by the balls he had to make the professor look like a dick. And impressed that he knew his shit.

The professor didn't look happy, his humiliation tactic had failed and blown up in his face. "Mr. Lytle. I'd like to see you after class, please." As the professor continued on with his lecture Kent looked at me and winked.

I couldn't help but giggle. Good thing Kent did some studying before class. Had the professor called on me I’d have been embarrassed just as he would've wanted. And I never would’ve said another peep in his class again.

I scribbled notes in my notebook and five minutes before the end of class I realized my leg was pressed against Kent’s. I sat up, pulled my leg away, and immediately missed the warmth he'd provided. I continued to write notes, nibbling on the end of my pen when it wasn't something I felt I needed to write down.

The lights went up signaling the end of class. Kent rustled his things to get it in the bag. "You asleep yet?" he asked as he stood with me. "Oh, and since I haven't had the chance to tell you, you look awesome, Elly. I mean it. I’m proud of all your hard work." Kent put his arm over my shoulder.

"Mr. Lytle. My office, please." The professor killed our mini-moment.