Creep - Jennifer Hillier [24]
Her eyes passed over Ethan’s face. He was smirking. Suddenly her throat felt a bit dry. Sheila paused to take a sip of water from the stainless steel bottle she always kept on the desk in the lecture hall and forced him out of her mind. “Now let’s talk about appearance. Mark, you said your girlfriend is short and you’re tall. But what does she look like? Facially?”
Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in thought behind his glasses. “Um . . . she has blue eyes, like me. People say we have the same coloring. And both our noses are crooked.”
“How about you, Michelle?” Sheila looked directly at a student in the front row. “What does your boyfriend look like? Does he sort of look like you?”
Michelle, a blonde with huge blue eyes, giggled and blushed slightly. “Yeah. People think we’re brother and sister.”
“Gross!” said a male student from somewhere in the middle of the lecture hall. The class erupted in good-natured laughter.
“Folks, this is not uncommon.” Sheila forced a smile. “So here’s your homework assignment for the week. I want you to think about all the couples you know—could be your parents, grandparents, even celebrity couples—and consider their appearances. Think about what they look like, and conclude whether these couples look more the same than they do different, or more different than they do the same. Also, think about the people you find yourself attracted to. Girls and guys you’ve had crushes on, or dated. What did they look like compared to you? Similarities? Differences? Next week we’ll compare notes. I’ll be interested to know what you’ve discovered. Thanks, everyone.”
Time was up. The room grew loud as students shut laptops, shoved books into backpacks, and flipped open cell phones.
Sheila downed the rest of her water and stuck the hard steel bottle into her leather bag. Valerie Kim and Caroline Stevens immediately approached her to ask if she needed help getting prepared for next week’s class, something her TAs typically did before leaving the lecture hall. She assured them they were clear, and they left Sheila alone to pack up her briefcase.
She was painfully aware of Ethan’s eyes on her. He’d made no attempt to leave the room and was still seated in the same spot he always occupied during her lectures—front row, right side, the desk closest to the podium. The last couple of weeks had been torturous. Having to stand in front of two hundred students knowing that one of them had a video of her naked, writhing, and covered in sweat? Forget painful. It was humiliating.
A student approached as Sheila was snapping her briefcase shut. She smiled to hide her annoyance. Leanne had been peppering her with questions lately, clearly a type A student who needed clarification on every test and assignment.
“Of course everything we talk about in class is subject to examination,” Sheila said to the gangly student again, who had her pen and notebook ready in case she needed to jot something down. “As I said last week, Leanne, everything is testable. Class discussions, assigned reading. Even the footnotes.”
“The footnotes, too?” Panic filled Leanne’s brown eyes, which were already comically wide. “Oh my God.”
“I’m kidding.” Sheila placed a hand on the sophomore’s skinny arm. “A little professorial humor. Of course not the footnotes. Leanne, don’t fret so much. If you’ve done all the assigned readings and haven’t missed any lectures, you’ll be fine. And don’t forget to talk to your TA. What’s your last name again?”
“Armstrong.”
Sheila’s reassuring smile wavered slightly. “Then your teaching assistant is Ethan Wolfe. He’s your first source of information. Don’t be afraid to call or e-mail him, or drop by during his office hours to ask him questions. That’s what he’s there for.”
She pointed to Ethan, who appeared to be having an intense discussion with a doe-eyed female student who’d taken a seat next to him.