Page 1 of Classroom Confessions

1

REBECCA

What was I doing? I turned a slow circle, my book bag banging my hip and catching on the corner of a desk and almost dragging it along behind me when I took a step. Heat infused my cheeks at the unholy screech of metal on laminate. For God’s sake. Didn’t they bolt these things down or something? Why did it all have to be so constricting?

Blowing my overly long bangs from my eyes, I hefted the bag higher and whisked it over the row of desks.

The door banged behind me. I whirled that way, my heart leaping into my throat, and my bag smacked into some dude’s back.

“Ow.” He hunched forward and shot me a disgusted look.

I took the high road–literally and figuratively–and shot him a winning smile, my one good attribute, while hustling up the steps and finding a chair near the top. My lungs burned from rushing up the stairs, and the burning in my cheeks meant my face was fire engine red. Thank God for makeup. If I could control my breathing, no one would notice me struggling to wedge myself in the narrow space. I pushed on the table/desk in front of me, but the damned thing didn’t budge.

Fuck. So they didn’t bother bolting the desks at floor level, but these they did? Figures. I’d have to make do. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A few more students trickled into the lecture hall, their laughing voices filling the drab space with the first bit of joy I’d experienced today.

Sweat dampened my palms, and I rubbed them over my black- and white-striped skirt. I wouldn’t be shaking anyone’s hand, but the movement helped soothe my racing pulse and gave me a chance to tug my skirt down over my knees as I turned sideways. My stomach rolled together, my muffin top feeling more like a cinnamon roll busting out of the can when it pressed into the desktop and spilled over a bit.

Shame forced my head down. I pulled in a long breath through my nose and held it, closing my eyes at the same time.

The laughing voices no longer gave me joy but a wicked sense of deja vu. They were laughing at me. Even when I knew they never even saw me, every laugh, every word spoken in hushed tones behind cupped hands, felt directed at me and my weight.

“You’re here to learn, Becca.” I whispered the words to myself and forced my eyes open. A quick look around proved that no one looked my way. I’d once again become invisible. Just the way I liked it. I could be the funny fat friend when I wanted, but I’d come to college to learn.

“Did you see the class list?” A girl in front of me leaned forward, her shiny blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and exposing slim shoulders and a tiny waist. “I can’t believe anyone is taking this class online. What a waste.”

I’d almost chosen to do this entire year online. My throat turned dry and spasmed when the boy turned to look at the blonde. His eyes caught mine for a split second before he focused on the bombshell. Where he’d looked at me with no emotion, his eyes lit up at the sight of her. His mouth hitched up on one side in a slick smile, and he turned further, flexing his arms when he propped his elbow on the back of his chair.

Grabbing my notebook, I scribbled the action down on my list. The tattered notebook held all sorts of lists, but this one was my favorite. I added Brandon to the description and underlined it twice. I had no idea what the guy’s name was, but he’d become Brandon in my mind, and that was how I’d see him in my future novel.

“I can’t believe I even have to take this class.” Brandon rolled his eyes, then slid his gaze up and down the blonde. “Who even uses English Lit anymore?”

Everyone. I rolled my eyes and added golden retriever to my list of Brandon’s attributes. Cute. Funny. Possibly not very bright. He could be playing it down for his audience, hoping to gain her sympathy.

She leaned so far over the desk it was a wonder she didn’t topple right off into his lap.

Oh, that would be a fun addition to a rom-com book. I jotted down the idea and covered a grin by ducking my chin when Brandon’s gaze lingered on blondie’s tits that she’d all but shoved in his face.

Their voices dropped to hushed whispers. Fine by me. I continued writing, imagining the conversation.

I’d gotten to the part where she climbed onto his lap and reached for his dick when a hushed silence fell over the room.

The back of my neck prickled, the atmosphere turning heated. I raised my head slowly, searching for what had changed.

It took less than a second to find him.

Hottie alert. I mean, damn.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled out his sport jacket and slacks without any damned trouble. Dark brown hair had been gelled into a sculpted wave that pushed the hair back from his forehead but kept it from having that tousled, just out of bed, look. Thick whiskers covered his cheeks in a full beard and mustache, and stern eyebrows remained in a flat line when he surveyed the room. “I’m professor Ethan Halstead. You may call me professor, or Mr. Halstead.”

Blondie snapped upright so fast it was a wonder her spine stayed in her body.

I smothered a giggle that dried up in a heartbeat when hard brown eyes met mine. I swore one eyebrow quirked upward but blamed it on my exceptional imagination and hormones. No way a man like Ethan Halstead looked at me for more than a fraction of a second.

“Mr. Halstead?” Another girl closer to the front raised her hand. Like blondie in front of me, she boasted a lithe frame and perfect boobs that she used to her benefit, setting them atop her arms when she crossed them on the desk. “I forgot my syllabus. Will you be able to provide another one?”

“All class materials are available online. You’ll find instructions on the college webpage.” Hands swinging freely by his sides, he marched toward the front of the room where a curved wall framed in a wooden lectern. “I am not your friend, your confidant, or your parent. You’re all old enough to be in this class. I expect you to act like it. Be prepared and keep up.”

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