Page 16 of Devilry

We both look down, but unlike the shy man from the other day, he doesn’t move and he doesn’t push me away.

Wanting to prolong the conversation, I take the rectangular piece of plastic out of his hand and bring it up to my face.

Elijah Williams.

“Your full name is Elijah?”

“Everyone calls me Eli,” he corrects.

Loving the way the six letters come together and the way his name sounds coming out of my own mouth, I take a mental note to never call him Eli again.

I hand him back the card. “Are you going to be okay to catch up?”

He drags his bag up his body and tugs out a composition notebook. Wordlessly opening it up, he offers it to me. Taking it, I notice there’s a heading that says ‘Lesson One’ and what looks to be like notes from everything he would’ve heard on the podcast. Falling back into my chair, I cross my legs, so that my ankle rests on my knee, and continue to flick through the pages. With a highlighted heading for every new topic, I appreciate Elijah’s accurate dissection of the lesson. Turing more pages, I find lesson two, the one he was late to, and his legible scrawl filling up every line.

Questions. Explanations. Highlights. There’s things in here that I haven’t even covered yet, and things he would’ve missed without the outline, but just as I suspected, this proves his mind is a wealth of information, exploring and delving into everything this class has to offer.

Rendered speechless, I look up at him, and he’s smirking at me. His intellectual charm has returned, and it’s in this moment I realize it’s the exact same thing that changes him from cautious to confident. If it were possible, he’s even sexier like this. “Looks like you’ve got it covered.”

Fingers find the spine of his notebook and he drags it out of my grasp. “Failure isn’t an option.”

“If you continue like this, it won’t even be on your radar,” I commend.

“I’m here on a scholarship,” he says, explaining his studious nature.

I nod in understanding. “What are you studying?”

“Double major. History and Education.”

An unwarranted sense of pride rushes through me. “You want to teach?”

“Eventually.”

“What made you choose this class?” I don’t get a lot of students who are wholeheartedly into exploring religions. Usually it’s just another class they take to fill up their arts requirements, or an elective they think they’ll enjoy, but end up dropping. It’s an intense and intricate exploration of a world that I have always loved to get lost in, and curiosity has me hoping Elijah is in this class for those reasons.

“A few reasons,” he answers vaguely. Applying pressure to the arm of the chair, he pushes himself up. “But the teacher seems like a good enough reason to stay.”

At his veiled compliment, I rake my eyes up his body. Standing in front of me, he hooks the bag strap over his shoulder, and the white shirt he’s wearing rises. My eyes falter at the sight of his skin, his jeans low on his hips, and the thick waistband of his briefs peeking out.

Noticing the silver crucifix that hangs low from his neck, and the way both of his wrists are adorned with leather and silver bracelets, I’m reminded that Elijah really isn’t my usual type. He’s my student for fuck’s sake, and students can never be my type. But that piece of information holds no weight on my conscience, because I can’t stop staring at him.

He clears his throat, pulling me out of my ogling. “I’m going to start my long walk home now.”

“Of course.” I rise with the intention to move toward my desk, as far away from him as possible, but we both continue to stand there, prolonging the inevitable.

Everything about this is unprecedented for me. Personally, I’m carefree, spontaneous, and would gladly date a guy who looks like he belongs in a magazine centerfold. But professionally, I’ve made it my mission to follow the handbook. Success isn’t an option, it’s an expectation. One that I place on myself and take very seriously.

I’ve come too far to fall flat on my face, and being attracted to Elijah isn’t something that should throw me off my game. But it has.

I don’t want to walk away from him, and it looks like he doesn’t want to walk away from me either.

But I have to.

We have to.

“I’ll try and be on time next lesson.”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Williams. Otherwise, you’ll be sitting at the front of the class for the rest of the semester.”

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