Nodding, I scan the room for an empty seat. The few available ones are in the middle of the rows between people, except for two that are aisle seats. One is next to a man in a hoodie, half asleep, while the other is beside a man about my age with nearly white-blond hair. He has his notebook open and is already writing the prewritten notes on the whiteboard. I can only see the side of his face, but he seems focused on his work and looks much cleaner than the other man.
Making my way to the center of the small lecture room, divided into two parts, I sit in the right aisle seat. The man with bleached-blond hair looks at me for a second, doing a double take as I give him a quick smile while adjusting my belongings and taking out my notepad to jot down what I need to know about the class. Of course, I’ve done my research, but it was only a brief overview, and this is the first time Professor Hayes is teaching the class at the university.
The board reads,Food History: Barcelona.
“All right, today we will continue and hopefully finish the last lecture on the Middle Ages. One of the most important and pivotal periods for new ingredients in the history of Barcelona and Spain as a whole.” Professor Hayes walks around and begins the lecture about foods I’ve heard of but never tried. History I didn’t know, but of spices I’ve tasted. He discusses Roman, Moorish, and Mediterranean trading—things I’d normally never be into, but the way he speaks, so passionately and confidently?—
“Hey, I haven’t seen you in this class before. I’m Leo,” the man next to me whispers.
I take a quick look at Grayson, noticing he’s writing something else on the board, and feel okay enough to speak to Leo.
“I’m Emma.” I glance over and am met with pale green eyes. He’s unique-looking, in a beautiful kind of way. His smirk tells me he knows the effect his looks might have on people.
Clearing my throat softly, I finish my response. “I’m kind of working right now. I’m not taking the class, just observing.” Tapping my pen, I sit up straight and give him one last look.
He nods. “Well, Emma. This seat is yours for the?—”
“Leo,” a stern voice says from the front. Cringing, I take a deep breath and turn to face cold turquoise eyes that are looking between Leo and me. “Care to share with the class?”
“No, sir,” he says softly.
I bite the inside of my cheek, and Grayson’s gaze stays fixed on Leo. I stare at my notepad and try not to sink deeper into my seat.
“Well, the next time you feel like flirting with Ms. Haywood, I’d suggest you wait until class is over.”
The entire room laughs quietly as my head whips up and in the professor’s direction.
Is he serious? Is he jealous? And what are we? In high school?
My mouth falls open as Grayson holds my stare for a moment and his lips curl into a tiny, cocky smirk.
My hand wraps around my pen so tightly, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
He really has the nerve to call poor Leo out like that?
How did he even know Leo was flirting with me? There have to be at least thirty other students here. It’s not a huge class, but damn, we were either really loud or he was paying way too close attention.
“Yes, Professor Hayes,” Leo says through slightly gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to Leo as quietly as I can once Grayson’s eyes leave mine.
Leo begins writing in his notebook again as I dive into my observation notes.
A tip of his notebook touches my notepad, and I move my hair to one side of my shoulder to read what it says.
It was my fault, but he wasn’t wrong about what he said.
My stomach dips slightly, as if a small butterfly swooped in unexpectedly. It’s not something I experience often, and it might not seem like much to others, but to me it’s a big deal. It’s extremely rare for that to happen the moment I meet someone…except with Grayson. With him, it was a swarm of butterflies—no, it was a completely new sensation. Like hummingbirds. Like the speed and harshness of a hummingbird’s wings.
But this one dip in my stomach lets me know that there are still guys out there who can make me feel.
Good to know,I write back.
Leo quietly takes the notebook and smiles at the page as we spend the rest of the class in silence.
An hour later, the lecture ends, and everyone stands up. Zippers unzip, and the sound of notebooks and computers being moved echoes in the small room, along with the chatter that has started.
“So, it’s officially after class,” Leo says carefully.