"You have my class first, Jess."
The way he says my name was so pleasant to the ears it made me feel things I've never felt before that I thought were only in books. The butterflies in my stomach.
I rolled my eyes and went to class and took a seat at the back of the class cause there is no way I'm sitting at the front of the class with him? I'll fail all my exams!
"Jess, what are you doing all the way back there?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief.
"This is my usual seat," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
"No, it's not," James chimed in, always ready to stir up trouble.
Our new professor, Alejandro Sanchez, smiled, his lips curling up slightly. "Class won't start until Jess finds her proper seat."
I raised an eyebrow. "Looks like we're all going to be stuck here, gazing out the windows."
Alejandro's gaze locked onto mine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Very funny, Jess. But I have a class to teach, and I intend to teach it."
I crossed my arms, stubborn. "And I'm not moving."
He strode over to my desk, his movements fluid and confident. "Then I'll move you myself."
Before I could protest, he lifted me up and carried me to my new seat at the front of the class - right next to James.
As I sat down, my face flushed, Alejandro began to introduce himself. "I'm Alejandro Sanchez, from Italy. I like chocolates, good grades, and beautiful women. Dislikes? Dumb blondes."
The classroom erupted into whispers and giggles, with the girls swooning over his good looks and charming accent.
"How old are you, sir?" one of them asked, batting her eyelashes.
"Too old to be interested in you," he replied with a smirk. "But if you must know, I'm 22."
The class gasped in disbelief. "22? You look 27!"
Alejandro smiled, his eyes glinting with humor. "I just am. Any other questions?"
"Sir, do you have any children?" a girl asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Alejandro smiled. "No, but I'm working on it."
He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto mine. "Jess, why don't you share something about yourself?"
I raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit targeted. "My name is Jess Carter. I'm from San Francisco, but I moved here to escape the fog... and Italian men." I glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Anything you like, Miss Carter?"
I shrugged. "My home, when it's empty."
He nodded, his smile still in place. "Okay, James, your turn."
James stood up, his eyes sparkling with confidence. "Good afternoon, my name is James Ingrid. I'm from Romania, but I moved here to pursue my acting career. I like dumb blondes, Jess, and food."
I felt a wave of repulsion, my crush on James suddenly evaporating. The class erupted into laughter and whispers, but I just stared at the board, refusing to react.
The rest of the class went by in a blur, with each student sharing their introductions. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that Alejandro was still watching me, his eyes boring into my skin like a gentle caress.
"Jess, can you explain how inflation affects the general population?" Alejandro asked, his eyes encouraging.
"It makes living harder," I replied. "Prices go up, but salaries don't increase enough to cover the cost of living."
"Excellent!" Alejandro exclaimed. "When inflation rises, our cost of living increases. We struggle to make ends meet, scrambling for money to pay our bills. It's especially tough for teachers like me, who are paid a fraction of what your parents earn."
He paused, correcting himself. "I mean, your parents might be in high-paying jobs, so... apologies for the comparison, Jess."
He turned to me again. "How can we combat inflation, Jess?"
I thought for a moment. "Increase salaries?"
Alejandro nodded. "That's one way. James, what's your thoughts?"
James spoke up. "Change interest rates?"
"Elaborate," Alejandro encouraged.
James explained, "Slow down spending, increase borrowing costs. People will focus on saving, not spending."
"Good!" Alejandro said. "Now, class, let's review. What is inflation?"
One student eagerly replied, "An increase in money!"
Alejandro smiled. "Not quite. Inflation is the increase in goods and services over time. Remember that. Open your textbooks to page 23. We'll explore Zimbabwe's inflation problem. At the end of this class we'll be doing a test. You're being graded on the spot."
"Seriously!" A student exclaimed.
"Seriously. Chop chop we have one hour of class time left."
We discussed Zimbabwe and its inflation crisis and we learnt about everything. It was like everything was easy to grasp. He made learning easy and engaging unlike our last teacher who just picks on anybody thinking we all read the entire syllabus beforehand to come and recite everything we should've read. Mr. Sanchez is going over it in such a smooth manner. I couldn't help but blush a little when he hovered over my table and asked if I needed any help.
"No sir I'm fine."
Was it okay to feel this way? I mean to him? I must've looked like an idiot.
"Test time." He called out. And walked around and handed us papers.
"Do not turn over until I've instructed you to do so. If you decide to play with me and turn it over before time I will see you in detention."
"You can't put us in detention over that."
"Find out if I can. You may begin."
The test was a breeze - 20 multiple-choice questions that I finished in just 10 minutes. I walked up to Alejandro's desk to hand in my paper. "Finished already?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir," I replied, handing him the paper.
He took it from me and began marking it on the spot, his pen moving swiftly through the questions. He didn't hesitate for a moment, immediately marking each answer as correct or incorrect.
"Miss Carter, 97%," he announced, his voice loud and clear. "Although your answers could have been correct, you didn't always choose the best possible answers. Good work."
He looked up, scanning the room. "Anyone else?"
Rebecca sauntered up to Alejandro's desk, her paper in hand, and leaned in close. It was obvious she was trying to flirt with him. I felt a pang in my stomach, a twinge of discomfort I couldn't ignore.
As he reviewed her paper, pointing out errors and correct answers, she gazed at him with adoring eyes. I couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance.
"Rebecca Miles, 88%," he announced, his voice neutral.