Akira

Our professor is quite young, in about late twenties. Totally opposite of my belief. I thought he would be some old and short man but damn this man is good looking. Now I understand the reason of girls population in this class. It looks like almost all girls are here just to see him, most of them are looking at him in awe and lust. I'm a psychology student I can tell just by their expressions.

"So guys how about a little introduction. As most of you know I'm Sebastian Vidal and I'm your art professor. Now introduce yourselves." Our professor starts with his smooth voice, smooth enough to drool for. He seems friendly and cool kind of teacher not strict or gruffy type.

Everyone delivers their introduction on their chances, I hear one girl's intro, "I'm Sherri and I'm here to admire a certain piece of art." She finishes with a flirty wink, eying professor from head to toe. Professor just shakes his head smiling, "I'm sure you can find few more artwork if you concentrate." Although he's smiling but his voice comes out as stern warning.

Few minutes later Dev stands up beside me, "Hello I'm Davis Carl. I'm here to make myself a perfect artist. I want to earn some money so I can help my family."

"Thank you Mr. Carl but you seem to forget 'No one is perfect here'." Mr. Vidal comments, motioning him to sit down.

I stand up, nervously when I realize its my time to speak, "I'm Akira Ray. I'm an scholarship student and I simply want to understand art and show it to others through my art." I shrug my one shoulder, sitting back on my seat and try to calm my nerves. I'm not very social so I tend to become nervous while speaking in front of many people.

"That's what I'm here for, Miss. Ray, thank you." Professor Vidal smiles charmingly before turning to other.

By the time everyone finish their introduction, the class is almost about to over but our professor doesn't seem to mind it and starts his topic, explanation of art.

"Art is a diverse range of human activities in creating visual, auditory or performing artifacts, artworks, expressing the author's imaginative or technical skill, intended to be appreciated for their beauty or emotional power. In their most general form these activities include the production of works of art, the criticism of art, the study of the history of art, and the aesthetic dissemination of art." He starts.

"So for the starters, the oldest form of art is visual art. We will come to it but before that I want put some light on history of art, alright?"

"Sculptures, cave paintings, rock paintings and petroglyphs from the Upper Paleolithic dating to roughly 40,000 years ago have been found, but the precise meaning of such art is often disputed because so little is known about the cultures that produced them. The oldest art objects in the world-a series of tiny, drilled snail shells about 75,000 years old-were discovered in a South African cave. Containers that may have been used to hold paints have been found dating as far back as 100,000 years. Etched shells by Homo erectus from 430,000 and 540,000 years ago were discovered in 2014." He continues. He further wants to explain about medieval and modern art too but class gets over.

He finally stops with a defeated sigh, "Seems like you got your wish. Alright guys meet you at next class. And don't forget to do your first assignment." With that he strides away.

Next to me Dev exhales, "Wow. He is really young for a professor. He seems cool but intense one, don't you think?"

I turn to him, "I guess you are right. He indeed was passionate about his subject."

We both stand up and come out of our class for the next one. I open my schedule to see what it is next ant it's psychology. "What is your next class?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, "No class. I'm free now. What about you?"

"I have psychology," I glance at my watch, "and it's in ten minutes. See you at the next class." I smile at him.

He nods back, smiling widely, "Yeah, see you."

I wave him before turning around with increased pace. Since Sydney has already shown me this class I won't have to wander around in search of it, so at least this is a plus point for me. I pass by hallway, I see lockers reminding of my locker. Well I don't have any class after this so I will just maintain my locker afterwards. I have not even taken more then ten steps when I feel someone's eye on me. I look around in search of its dawning and my eyes connect with the very same dark grey eye that has been consistently on my mind.

Goodness!

Without thinking I stop on my way and just look, no, stare at him. He is wearing same kind of clothes he wore yesterday, but with a jacket. He's leaning against the wall of a locker at the end of hall, looking like he owns this place, like a true king. He has this aura radiating around him that screams confidence, money and power. My mind seems to stop working, the only thought comes in mind, God he is beautiful, so beautiful that he can put any and every models to shame. His beautiful face is expressionless, void of any emotions and even with that too he looks like an Adonis. I don't want to look away from his figure. Hell. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I look in his eyes, trying to read some emotions but like his face, they are too masked with emotionlessness. They give nothing away, just silently analysing me. A swell of awareness shoot in throughout my veins. I suddenly feel subconscious of my self as I take a step back trying not to squirm under his gaze.

His jaw works and without any other glance, he turns around and walks away. Leaving me in his stance, looking like a fool.

Get a hold on yourself!

It takes me few minutes to recover my self as I try to snap out of my thoughts. I mentally scold myself for loosing my control like that, it's second time I've lost my grip like that since yesterday and both of the time because of him. Romero. I hurriedly make my way toward the class. Feeling like, I'm late. I sigh in relief when I finally spot my class.

I enter the class, once again relief floods through me when I notice teacher is still not here. Taking the last seat beside window, I gaze outside it. I feel calm and peace when I look in the sky, it gives me hope that my parents are somewhere in there, looking out for me, guiding me to right path. This endless sky also gives inspiration to not stop and keep going because this world is so big, there must be a small, stable place for me too. Just like everyone else have their own, a place where I could feel myself belonging.

I sense someone sits beside me. I don't ken why but I'm having this weird but familiar feeling in my stomach when I turn to look at them. My eyes widen when I see him. Romero freaking king is sitting beside me and he smells good, damn good. It's not some cologne scent, it's more like some shampoo or body wash, I can't figure out. I can feel my body is being effected by his presence and I'm trying to ignore it. I swear I'm, but it's impossible to do so when he is this close to me and what is he doing here anyway? I thought he is in business and business and psychology are like two extreme ends.

"Hi." I decide to make first move.

Silence.

I get no response.

So I dig in further, "Look I don't know what is your problem with me, but I just want say sorry for yesterday, you know if I have somehow offen-"

"Fucking stop!" He snarls, whipping his face sharply toward me with a burning glare.

Shit

I jump at his harshness, moving away from him and look at him with my wide open eyes, he is still glaring me. We both stare in each other eyes, I with curiosity and he with ice.

Why he has to be so harsh with me?

Look away you idiot!

I should but I can't.

Then suddenly something happens, an intimate and unique wave births between us, catching me completely off gaurd. The air around us change as it gets thicker with an emotion and there is an unmistakable change in his eyes. It is something different, a kind of look I can't fathom. I have never been at receiving end of this emotion. Its intensity is just too much and along with it is a magnetic pull attracting me to him. I deeply stare in his eyes, unable to look away. I notice his eyes are not totally grey, there is a darkest shade of blue at the outline of the pupil. It's unique and beautiful, most beautiful eyes I've ever stumble upon. I can't get myself to look away from him. They have this kind of hold on me that I can't elaborate.

I'm so lost in his eyes that I don't even notice our teacher's arrival. His voice wake us out of our trance, Romero is the first one to look away while I'm still staring him, trying to understand what just happened. I look at his rigid posture, his hands griping the edge of desk so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. Its like he is stopping himself to do something, most likely to walk out of this class.

After few more minutes of gawking, I force myself to turn away from him and to look at our professor who is a middle age giant man in suit and tie. He is telling something but I can't understand a single damn thing. My mind is too occupied with the same boy sitting next to me.

I'm still trying to control my emotions when I feel him tilting his head to my side. An involuntarily gasp leaves me when I feel his breath on my neck.

No!

It couldn't be!

Did he just inhale me?

Did he really?

Because I swear, I just felt him sniff in my direction.

Or is mind playing games with me?

I can't figure out so I just blame it on my hormones for making me feel these things. I'm sure he wouldn't do this, it all is just in my mind.

Of course he wouldn't!

My conscience gives me a reality check and by the time, class is about to over, I've not learned a single thing and my brain is still on trance for what happened earlier, trying to comprehend it.

As the time ends, he is out of his seat and out of the class like a flash. I sigh in relief as I get up from my seat. His closeness terrifies and excites, it affects me the way I can't explain.

It's foreign.

And I don't deal well with foreign things.

I sigh closing my eyes and open them after a moment. I see a shining material on his desk, I bend little down to get a better look of it. It's a watch, an expensive looking Rolex watch, his watch I assume. I pick it up and run out of the room with the intention of returning it. I can't see him anywhere outside so I put it in my pocket. I'll just return it when I would see him again.

Yeah. Do that.

I go to my locker and stuff it my things as I don't have anymore classes. I'm not in mood to clean it so I close it again. I will probably do it on Monday.

As I turn around I see him, Romero, moving ahead of me. The way he is walking is admirable like a King out to rule his world, looking irresistible even from his back view with broad shoulder and narrow waist. Then I remember his watch. There are only few students so I decide it's probably the good time to return his watch.

"Romero." I call for him, completely forgetting the warning I got earlier about not calling his first name.

His shoulder stiffens.

He stops still.