Part 4
The next class was more interesting.
About ten minutes into the professor's breakdown of intracellular signaling between something and something, Blue Eyes interrupted in what was a clear challenge of the information being imparted. He thought it was incorrect and told the professor why and pointed out several things that Lisa had no knowledge of — yet — but he clearly did.
She just listened as the tall drink of water behind her ardently argued the inaccuracy with the instructor.
Glancing up behind her, like the rest of the class, Lisa saw his eyes blazing with a fierce intelligence. She watched his face contort with breathtaking passion as he beautifully articulated the reasons behind his disagreement. She heard the students around her start writing, the chorus of pencils on paper surprisingly loud, as he spouted off references from medical journals and texts that indicated he was clearly well-read. And that the professor was possibly wrong.
That totally turned her on. Forget his arms and ass. That brain. That was totally doing it for her. And those eyes. She couldn't forget about those.
"Get out!"
The sudden shout startled Lisa and she looked back at the professor. He was red-faced and mounting the stairs, his arm emphatically gesturing to the doors at the back of the classroom.
Blue eyes went, but not without first telling the professor he was an idiot.
Lisa turned and watched him go. It was then she noted for the first time, that he didn't have a book with him. Then she recalled that he'd never had one in class. Or a notebook or pen.
She had no idea why, but that turned her on, too. She wondered if he would be allowed back to the class.
The thought that he probably wouldn't was like being dunked in a tank of cold water, effectively dousing her excitement.
Lisa sighed.
She was apparently going to have to come up with a new plan.