A Different Kind of Love Story

I started teaching at the university when I was 19. I loved it half the time but the other half was torture because the students were so thick. Except for one. A freshman. His name was John Watson and he was incredibly bright. People said he kept to himself, but that he was probably the best rugby player they’d had in a century. He was impossibly shy but had the most amazing things to say once you gave him a chance. People said he was a teachers pet, on scholarship, a jock, said that he traded his heart for his athletics and never looked back. But I knew different. or at least, I found out.

He’d been in my class since my first year teaching and from the moment he stepped through the door I knew there was something different about him. Usually, I can read anyone like a book just by observing them. However the longer I looked at John the more puzzled I became. Why couldn’t I figure him out? Every time I tried I drew a blank. And over time I became more obsessed with him, more infatuated. However it wasn’t just his elusiveness that drew me to him, there were physical aspects also. His eyes for one, they were such an electric shade of blue it startled me the first time I saw them. He was a couple inches shorter than me, but well built for his age. His shoulders were broad and his hair was the color of melted gold.

And then, at the beginning of my fourth year, his senior year, I found myself in an unusual situation. It was unusual because it was more often than not, reversed. And I found myself wondering.

What happens when the teacher. . .
falls for the student?