𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

11. steamy desk sex

friday,
october 2nd, 2020

EZRA GREYSTONE

"It is not a date!"

Lola scoffs in amusement, bumping hips with me as we cross the quad to head to English. I tighten my arms around myself, it's actually getting quite cold early this year.

"If that's what helps you sleep at night," Lola giggles.

I huff, hugging my literature books close to my chest and pursing my lips.

Lola, and all three of the guys for that matter, have been sweating their asses off trying to convince me that what Luke and I are doing tonight classifies as a date. It's hardly any use trying to convince them otherwise, but that's my professor and I won't date my professor.

However, I am feeling a bubble of anxiety in my stomach because I really don't know what to wear or how to act which is ridiculous because I see this man minimum three days a week, excluding his coffee shop visits that occur at least once a week. I should know by now that I don't need to act any differently.

I'm working today until 3:30pm and hope to head home to get a shower in afterwards. My work is no longer limited to the flower shop. Sometimes I switch over to the café section because we're not overly staffed but my job is fairly casual in the way that I work between both sides of the shop.

I actually don't know the details of tonight other than Luke clearly wanting to buy me a drink to make up for the one that I couldn't finish last night. The location and time is unknown to me and I don't want to bombard him with questions after English because frankly, I don't want to make a fool of myself.

I barely notice Lola chatting my ear off about her new job as a waitress at our local Nando's, which is ironic because we all love that place and Lola couldn't be more excited about her employee discount.

We eventually reach the English lecture hall and head inside. Roughly half the class is scattered across the seats talking amongst themselves but my eyes are immediately drawn to the professor.

My god, he looks good. He's wearing navy blue dress pants, Converse peeking out at the foot of the straight leg, with a white button up hanging beautifully from his shoulders, tucked messily into the waistband of his pants. Only two buttons are undone and his chest isn't as shown off as it was last night but he truly does look outstanding.

He's reading a book, perched at the edge of his desk and my eyes trail to his hands that hold the pages open. I frown, noticing a white wrap stretched across his knuckles and hooked around his thumb. His right hand seems unaffected; silver rings and a tattoo or two decorating his skin, but his seemingly injured left hand worries me when it really shouldn't. It's none of my business.

Before I can ponder it any further, Lola's guiding me towards a couple free seats and my eyes flitter away from Luke. Lo and I take our seats in the third row and as the class fills up even more, the clock strikes 9:30am and Hemmings stands from his desk.

My teeth latch on to my lower lip as he straightens himself out, clearing his throat and setting his book down. His eyes seem to scan the room before they land on me and I feel my cheeks heat up. He looks away after a moment with a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Okay, everyone," Luke greets the room and grabs everybody's attention, "Please take your seats and—"

"What happened to your hand, Hemmings?" a random masculine voice calls from the back and there's a few mutters amongst the class regarding his slight injury.