My eyes are drawn to him. He has the most stunning olive skin I’ve ever seen and big, obsidian eyes that have flecks of gold in them. He once told me he used to be a swimmer in high school, which aligns with his tall and lean body, and Jesus, his features. The kid has the strongest, sharpest jaw with a cleft chin, a straight nose that turns up a bit, and thick, dark brows that are always perfectly manicured.

He could be a model. A tan, Italian, sun God model.

Alright, that’s enough. I shouldn’t be looking at students like that—or really anyone, since I’m married—and I usually don’t. But there’s something about him. Since the moment I first laid eyes on him. It’s like my brain doesn’t give a shit that he’s ten years younger than me, my student, and not my wife.

Hitting reply, I type out a message back to him.

Good evening Mr. DeMarco,

My evening has no complaints. Hope yours is splendid, as well.

My apologies about those dates. As I’m sure you’re aware, this semester has been a tad challenging with the freshmen, and it slipped my mind. The convention is the third weekend in November, right before Thanksgiving break. If that doesn’t work, I completely understand. Let me know one way or another.

Best,

Professor Philips

Pressing send, I grab my rocks glass, finishing the whiskey inside. If someone were to ask what possessed me to ask my aide to come to a literary convention with me, I wouldn’t have a single legitimate answer. Yes, professor aides are welcome and encouraged to come to these things. Do I ever personally ask mine to come? Fuck no. It’s a whole lot of teaching and responsibility and babysitting that I just don’t want to do on a fucking weekend.

So, the reason I decided on a fucking whim to invite Cash is beyond me. But it’s done. I invited him, and now I’m going to have to spend the entire car ride and the whole weekend keeping my eyes to myself if he decides to join me. Not that it would be a chore by any means, but I’d rather not gain the reputation of being the creepy teacher who stares too much.

Speaking of him and my creepy obsession, my computer dings, indicating a new email. Hell, he responds quickly.

Hey Professor,

Thanks for the quick reply. My evening isn’t too bad.

Oh, that works great. I look forward to it. Are we still driving together?

Thanks,

Cash

Wasting no time, I type out a reply.

Hi Cash,

It seems you’re a quick replier too. I can appreciate that. ;)

Glad you’re looking forward to it. I am too. It should be a great opportunity. Yes, we can take one car, if that’s still okay with you?

Thanks,

Professor Philips