A moment stretched where we both smiled at each other, not saying anything. His eyes lingered on me, softening, almost melting like they were warming. Or maybe that was just me, warming under his stare, interpreting it as more, wanting it to mean more. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach sinking into my core as I imagined him staring at me with heat burning my skin. An anxious energy flooded through me as I wondered if he could read my thoughts pouring from my own eyes.
I needed to break the moment before I made a fool of myself, so I blurted out the first thing I thought of. “You have that whole Superman thing going on with your glasses,” I said, pointing at my own face. He tilted his head and gave me a confused look. Shit, I was so dumb. I’d have been better off letting the staring continue. “I mean, like, because Superman wears glasses.”
“You mean Clark Kent.”
“Um . . . ” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Clark Kent wears the glasses and when he takes them off he’s Superman.”
“Duh.” I said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m more of a Marvel girl.”
“That’s a good choice. Marvel is better than DC any day.” He pulled his glasses off and set them directly in the center of the paper he was working on, giving them a small nudge to line up evenly. “Are you sure you’re not a physics major?”
“Positive.”
“Well, you’d fit in perfectly in the department. You’ll have to make sure you’re around for when Mr. Erikson and Dr. Fischer get into their weekly debates about DC and Marvel.”
I laughed. “That sounds . . . fascinating.”
“Hey, they can get pretty heated.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Seeming pleased that I believed him, he moved on to another topic. “You’re a biology major, correct?”
“Yup. Hoping to move forward with physical therapy.”
“That’s a lot of school.”
“No more than you did.”
“That’s true. Why physical therapy?”
“Oh, I love anatomy and the way the body moves. All the mechanics about it. I find it fascinating how one small tear, sprain, or fracture can cause a butterfly effect of other issues. How amazing is the human body? I also, love the idea of helping others, but didn’t really want to go full force into the medical field of hospitals and such.”
My words faded as I noticed how his eyes dropped to my lips as I rambled. I licked them and then bit them in response to his gaze. The movement seemed to break his concentration and he sat up straight, clearing his throat. It was his turn to change the subject now.
“And you said you were nineteen?” He coughed after asking the question before continuing. “Did you wait a year after high school to come to college?”
“I wish,” I said, rolling my eyes. “My birthday is in early November, so I’m always the oldest.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, my birthday is in late August, so I’m always the youngest. Trust me, it’s much worse.”
“I don’t know,” I said, leaning my elbows on the desk. Did his eyes just drop to the V in my shirt? He was probably just looking around, and I felt dumb thinking otherwise. God, at this rate, I was going to become campus gossip—the girl who tried to seduce her teacher because she imagined false advances. Heat seeped into my cheeks and I continued talking. “Being asked if you were held back because you couldn’t write your letters is pretty rough.”
“Very traumatic,” he agreed with a nod. “It may be worse when you’re called the baby when you can’t go out with all your friends to the bars because you’re only seventeen. Even worse when they call you to come pick them up after they managed to score drinks.”
I rolled my lips over my teeth to hold back my laughter, finding it impossible to believe anyone would call the large Dr. Pierce a “baby”.
“Sure, laugh it up,” he joked.
“No, no. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the idea of anyone calling you a baby. I mean, were they giants? Or did you hit a late growth spurt?”
“I guess size didn’t matter to them.”
“I’m sure that was their excuse to all the girls.”
As soon as the words left my mouth my eyes widened. I just made a sexual joke to my professor. I opened my mouth to take it back, swallow my words, something, when his head fell back, and a laugh exploded from his mouth. His throat exposed, looking more attractive than I thought any throat would look, and his chest shook with each sound. I wanted to go to him and bury my mouth against his skin, wondered how it tasted. I shook the thought away, feeling juvenile for even letting the thought cross my mind.
“I’m sure it was,” he agreed, still laughing. Once he was under control he sat up and mirrored my position, his elbows on his desk. “So, are you from Cincinnati?”