Silver fox, Sir Hotness, is my tutor for creative writing. Thank the universe. 92% of the class are eighteen, there’s two ‘mature’ mature age student, and myself. So I think my chances are good.
To introduce ourselves, he asked us to say our first names, and then tell the class our favorite authors. By this stage he’d already casually name dropped F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway and Raymond Carver. So I knew I had to think of someone literary. Most the class had said J.K. Rowling by the time it rolled around to me.
‘My name is Amai, and Ian McEwan is my favorite author’. I announced. I’d just read Enduring Love a few weeks ago – it was brilliant. You don’t know whether to believe the narrator or if he’s a complete psycho. It was riveting.
‘Have you read atonement, Solar or Amsterdam?’ He asked.
My heart plummeted.
‘Ah … no.’ I answered.
‘Oh,’ he looked surprised, ‘what is your favorite.’
I decided to go and buy all the books he’d just named, and all his favorite books straight after class.
He smiled at me, a melt-worthy smile. I was surprised to feel the rush of desire. God. It had been so long since I’d felt that towards a man. My ex is the only guy I’ve ever been with. We started dating when I was nineteen, and I’d not been with anyone before him or since he had broken up with me a year ago.
The silver fox said something. I nodded in agreement, too lost in the moment to concentrate on mere words.
Did he know how beautiful he was? He had these dark blue eyes, with long black lashes, and then silver lightly peppered through his dark short hair cut. He wore a checkered shirt, light blue tie and a navy woolen vest. He had an old-school brief-case/satchel. He looked like a slightly scruffy writer from the sixties. Nothing like my ex. Older. Less plastic-fantastic.
Now the question is, should I try to become a femme fatale type and seduce my professor?