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almost hear Miranda saying, “Yeah right, you love the attention, admit it.”
    Once upon a time, that was true. Not now. Now, I’m just trying to blend in. Trying to be better and do better.
    I open the door to the room, rushing in faster than I’d intended. Heads turn my way at the flurry of activity, but I don’t show any embarrassment. I have way too much practice keeping a cool look on the exterior. I glance around, looking for a seat and spot one in the middle of the room, quickly making my way over to it; aware of the appreciative looks aimed my way. I smile, making sure to make eye contact to as many of them as possible, clearly showing how confident I am. Little do they know, it’s all for show.
    I sit down, face forward, and finally notice the professor sitting at his desk. He’s wow , to say the least. No, more like yummy, something definitely worth devouring. The moment our eyes meet, he winks at me. I’m taken aback. I know this can’t be normal, but I dismiss it. It’s not the first time I’ve been noticed by an older man, after all. He’s tall and blond with broad shoulders. Completely different than what I was expecting for a professor. I was thinking more like bald, boring and obese. You know, like the ones you usually see in the movies. I know, stereotypes, so shoot me.
    I open my backpack, pull out my notepad and pencil, and prepare myself for the most boring lecture known to man. After getting settled, I carefully, cool as a cucumber, look around a little to see what kind of ‘blood’ I’ve got in class with me. Hhhmmm, maybe this isn’t so bad after all. It’s been a couple of days. Some habits are harder to break than others, I realize, as I take in all the good-looking guys around me. Several girls are glancing straight ahead, dreamily, not paying attention to anything but the professor. I can’t help but shake my head.
    Snapping me from my survey of the class the professor begins to speak. “Welcome to my English class, I am Professor Forrester, and you have the pleasure of having me as your teacher for the semester.” Several girls, and I do mean several, giggle at his statement and I actually feel sorry for them. Give me a break. Yeah, he’s hot, no doubt. And maybe, just maybe, I may have gone there in the past, but not now. Not to say he wouldn’t be a lot of fun; he sure looks like he could be.
    “Here is the class syllabus. Read it and remember it well. There will be several projects in my class throughout the semester.” I hear a collective groan, mostly consisting of deep voices, which makes me chuckle out loud.
    Shit, didn’t mean to do that.
    Unfortunately, my outburst garners me some attention I sure as hell didn’t want.
    “Miss?” Professor Forrester raises an eyebrow at me, clearly expecting me to give him my name.  I fight the urge to slink into my chair as much as possible. I refuse to slink.
    “Davis, Ashley Davis” I say confidently, sitting even straighter in my seat.
    I won’t back down.
    “Would you like to share with everyone what you find so amusing?” He’s being a bit of a smartass, but there is also an obvious sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me. It’s a little disarming.
    “I was just thinking how excited I am about all of the projects you have for us.”
    “Is that so?” he responds, smiling at me. 
    What the fuck? Give it back to him…
    I look directly into his eyes and match him, stare for stare. “Yes sir, I’m really looking forward to them.”
    He chuckles, he fucking chuckles , “Well, Miss Davis, since you seem to be so excited about this class, how about you pass out the syllabus to everyone.”
    “No problem,” I say looking directly at him once again. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. I get up and walk over to him, and I see his eyes roam over me appreciatively. I don’t let him see I notice, though. I take the syllabus from him and begin to pass them out with every ounce of coolness I possess.