I sat in the small classroom with the other twenty or so people who had filed in. It was only two weeks into the semester and we had already lost five. In another two weeks we would have even less. The room was too hot, as always. No one actually bothered regulating the heat in the buildings. It was still better than being outside at the end of January.
The teacher walked in, he was a few minutes late today which I found odd. Normally he walked in at 2:00 p.m. exactly. Mark set down his small briefcase and pulled out the yellow legal pad with his notes for the day. Not that there were many people who would be paying attention. English 101 wasn't on the favorite list of many college students, I was one of the rare few who actually enjoyed the class even though I already knew everything that was being taught. English wasn't my first language and I had been through all of this before. I tried not to be bitter about the fact that I had to sit through the same lessons again. There wasn't even much of my accent remaining and most people couldn't tell that I was Italian born, but my voice still had a musical lilt that was not American. It annoyed me that most of my classmates could barely speak their own language properly.
I knew Mark liked me right away, I've always prided myself with being intelligent and understanding. It was obviously something he valued. The first time he laid eyes on me, he lingered a few seconds too long. Every time he looked at me after I could tell that he didn't want to look away. More often than not I would look up and catch him staring at me. More often than not I would smile, acknowledging that I had caught him; he would blush and look away.
I wondered if he knew that I liked the way he looked. I found his tousled strawberry blond hair, somewhat scruffy beard and slightly gap toothed smile attractive. I've always had a thing for tall, nerdy looking guys. He had more on a gentlemanly look about him, teacher was a good role for him -English Professor was perfect. What I loved the most was the intense look he always had in his eyes. This one was a writer, his mind always working just like mine was but in a different way. I knew he liked that I was an art student, it meant we could connect on a different level and really understand things. He had started smiling back when I caught him looking.
The next hour dragged on, he said 'uhh' and 'um' too much. Several students had passed out at their desks early on. I watched him make a note of them on his attendance sheet. I liked that he wasn't going to bother waking them up, he had learned quickly that it was pointless to try. He gave out out next assignment, due the following week. He set the previous week's on the table by his desk.
I waited for the others to file out of the room. I hated being stuck in the rush of people over eager to leave, I didn't enjoy being tossed into walls simply because I was small and people never bothered watching where they were going.
"Ivy, do you have a minute?" Mark asked from his desk. He had a paper in his hand. "I wanted to talk about your last essay."
I shrugged, less time in the crowded hallway was always welcome so I went over to his desk. He gestured for me to sit down in the chair next to him. He didn't say anything for a minute or so, I waited for him to speak as I watched him trying to figure out what to say. I knew he wasn't going to say anything negative. He always left good notes for me on my papers, I liked his hand writing.
