Learning Her Lesson

IRIS

Why did no one ever tell me the ocean was so beautiful? I think I sat there burying my feet in the sand for far too long, judging by the red glow on my chest. I stood up starting to pack my things into my beach bag. Something made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turned quickly to look around. Across from me about 50 feet a man was staring at me. He looked to be quite a bit older than me. I squinted my eyes against the sun to see if maybe I knew him. I hadn't been in California long, but have met a few people on campus. No one built quite like that though, he was a god. Probably 6'2 to my 5'6 and 3 quarters. He had a light natural respectable tan, which looked nice considering most of the men in here went to a tanning bed. I will never understand why one would need to do that this close to the ocean. When I tried to look harder he didn't look away. Maybe he thought he knew me like I was possibly that friend of his daughters that he couldn't quite remember because the football game was on and he wasn't paying attention to her. I kind of chuckled to myself. He had dark messy hair that fell a short way over his face. I couldn't see much more from here, but I am sure I would remember an adonis taking my breath away. Older or not, this man staring at me, he was beautiful. Hell, I don't know, I know I need to get out of this sun. Someone once told me the sun was different in Texas. That sounded silly to me, the same sun in the same sky. They were right. This sun is different than the one in Ohio, this one is unforgiving trying to burn me alive most days. I wasn't pale. I never had a sunburn when I was home.

The walk back to the dorms was short, maybe 15 minutes, I needed to get back, shower and get ready for class. I had one evening class this semester. After I showered I threw on some leggings and a tank top. I looked in the mirror, I needed to invest in some aloe. I was still almost glowing from my cleavage. I threw a cut-off over my tank top, grabbed my shoulder bag, and headed for Wilson. I had a few classes in the Wilson building, it was a popular choice for law students. I looked down at my fit bit, briefly proud of my step count, before realizing I was almost late. I started to jog, reaching the door and looking for classroom 48. Philosophy with Professer Ryker Lorcane. His name is intimidating. I asked one of the older girls, Mage, in my hall. She said he was a hard ass. Great. Some high society man who could live off of his interest in the bank wants to play college professor for us little law students. Apparently, he got bored being a big-time criminal lawyer and decided to come back to his alma mater. I walked through the door rolling my eyes at the thought. "Iris is it." I heard a low growling voice say my name. I felt my face turning red which made me not want to look up at him. "That's me, sir," I said quietly. I heard his footsteps coming closer to me before I saw his shoes in front of me. Surprise, he had on expensive men's dress shoes, luckily, they weren't shiny. Those are more ridiculous. I slowly looked up at him. I immediately couldn't breathe. It was him. The adonis. He stared at me with a scolding look on his face. His eyes were dark, so brown they could be black. He had dark eyebrows and a 5 o'clock shadow. Without realizing it I licked my lips as I looked at him. I had to say something, break the tension. "I am sorry sir, Sorry I am late." I rambled out. He set a syllabus in front of me, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.

While he stood up there lecturing I tried to concentrate on the words he was saying. It was probably the most difficult lesson I have sat through. All I could do was watch him. He moved so smoothly across his little stage. It was mesmerizing. He would look at me too, or I thought he was. Did I want him to? What is wrong with me, this man is my teacher, he is probably old enough to be my father. I just turned 20 this year. He is probably at least 45. "Iris, what philosopher did I tell the class was my favorite in college?" He smirked at me. What an ass. Did he know how distracted I was by him? I frantically looked down at my notes. No help, mostly doodles. Shit. I looked back up at him probably pouting. He walked over in front of me. I wish he would stop doing that. He leaned down closer to my face, "The measure of a man is what he does with power." He said sending chills all over me. I put my hands on my lap instinctively hiding my reaction to his words. "Plato," I whispered up at him shyly. He stood up quickly seeming to shake off what just happened, and looked around the class, "Was my favorite philosopher Plato class?" He asked sarcastically. A few girls behind me giggled but I refused to give them the attention they were craving. I kept my eyes focused on the professor. After that I listened, I watched as his mouth moved. Watching his lips part, close, and then part again. I wrote down notes and learned a few names. I had gained control. I think he noticed too, he didn't single me out anymore. He still looked at me quite a bit, but I assume that is mostly in my head. This attraction to this man was weird for me anyway. I hadn't felt like this. I had boyfriends in high school, but I never took it that far. I was too focused on getting here. I wanted out of that small town, out of Ohio, and away from my life there. I worked hard to get here and I can't allow one attractive teacher to distract me from my goal. I would ace this class just like I would every other class. I would become a strong criminal lawyer, get bored, and come to my alma mater to teach someday when Mr. Lorcane here was retired. I smiled to myself, proud of my revelation.

He gave an assignment before closing class for the evening. The assignment was passed out by his student assistant. She was a beautiful girl with long brown hair, a skirt a little short for my liking, and a white tank top. She reminded me of Brittany in that video from the 90s. I thanked her and she didn't even look at me. Rude. I was late one time and these people are losing their minds. Of course, I remember my band director in high school telling me to be late is to be unforgiven. Mr. Lorcane and his puppet must take that idea to heart. Mental note, do not be late again. I stood up and started to pack up my notebook, book, and laptop into my shoulder bag. "Hey Iris, Would you wanna work on the assignment with some of us from the class." I looked up to see a guy maybe 3 inches taller than me. He had shaggy blonde hair and a surfer boy look. How nice was he to invite the class pariah to a group session? I shook my head, yes, and he blushed a little. I smiled writing my phone number on the top of his hand. "Text me and let me know when you wanna meet.." I stared at him waiting for him to tell me his name. "Adam." He grinned at me this time happy I accepted I suppose. "Nice to meet you, Adam." I reached my hand out to shake his. When he grabbed mine I felt the hair on my neck rise again. I glanced over seeing the professor glaring at me and Adam. Maybe we are taking up too much time in his classroom. "We better go soon," I said looking down at my paper. WAIT. "The measure of a man is what he does with power." -Plato, was written at the top of my paper in red pen. I guess I don't get to choose one. He has chosen for me. I looked over at him dramatically rolling my eyes, throwing the paper in my bag. I watched as he whispered to his teacher assistant before she walked out of the room. He saw me rolling my eyes, he seemed to be watching me again. What is up with that?

"Iris, can I speak with you a moment before you go?"