Drift (Lengths) Read Online Free PDF Page A

her a quick wave over his shoulder and comes to walk beside me.
    “Ms. Rodriguez?” His smile is blindingly white, but I don’t even mind the reduced visibility. It’s easier to deal with him when I can’t see his handsomeness too clearly.
    “Professor.” I return his smile and let him lead me off to the side to avoid the chaotic traffic of too many bodies pressing close in an attempt to eavesdrop. “It was a really great lecture.”
    “Lecture?” He rubs his jaw self-consciously, and I catch the barest whiff of his sharp, clean cologne. “It was really more a storytelling session, I guess. I think it worked out in the end, though. I’m glad you enjoyed. The story you shared...I know I’ll be thinking about it for days.”
    I press my eyebrows low. It’s a strange thing to say under normal situations, but this is an art professor. I guess he’s supposed to be eccentric and crazy honest.
    “I’m glad. You sort of bullied me into sharing,” I tease.
    His furrowed brow is adorable. “I’m so sorry if you feel that way. I never meant to make you feel you had to share if you didn’t want to.”
    I put a hand out and touch his arm. He’s wearing a button-down, open at the neck, no tie. I can feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric. A fizzy charge of electricity burns through me. “It was a joke. I’ve never told that story before, so it was a little strange to just let it all out in the middle of class. But I guess that’s what art is all about, right?”
    He nods. The lecture hall is clearing. Even the most persistent groupies seem to get the message that Professor Ortiz isn’t available right now and stomp away in their adorable heels and miniskirts.
    “Yes. Exactly. I’d love to talk to you about it in more detail,” he says, and he smiles like he’s waiting for the ‘yes’ he just expects to fall out of my mouth.
    Which makes me smile. A man as smart and passionate and holy hell good-looking has to be used to having women eat of the palm of his hand on a regular basis. And it’s tempting: it really is. But I’m in this class for weeks, and I think it would be supremely stupid to get a crush on my instructor or vice versa. If I were an undergrad? I’d giggle and bat my lashes so hard, I’d probably incur eye damage.
    But I’m not. I’m a grown-up now, and I know better.
    My experiences with Richard were excellent for showing me how to not mix professional and personal.
    So my brain gives a big, sad sigh, and I smile politely at that angel face and try so damn hard to stop thinking about throwing him down on my silk sheets and stripping every thread off of his tight body.
    “I’d love to, but I’m busy. I’ll see you in class!”
    Before he can say another word, I rush to the parking lot, my cheeks on fire, my stomach in pulsing knots. I slide into the leather interior of my car and my hands shake so badly, I can hardly fit the key in the ignition.
    What is going on with me? Apparently my blood sugar has taken a serious dip. I decide to stop by my parents’ for dinner. I’ll avoid the Salinas print, deflect talk about work, and smile through a safe, warm, home-cooked meal with the people I can always count on.
    And I swear I won’t spend the entire time imagining what dinner across the table from Isaac Ortiz would be like, our heads bent close, our eyes locked, me watching his mouth as he eats and trying to picture his lips dragging on my body…
    I’m clearly delusional from the stress in my life coupled with a serious lack of sex. Good thing I went to that sex-toy party my sister-in-law’s co-worker hosted and am more than capable of taking the edge off all on my own.
    I pull out of the parking lot and try to convince myself a meal with my parents followed by an evening with my vibrator isn’t the saddest scenario in the world.

 
    4  ISAAC
     
    I’ve been working on my next guest lecture for the life development class for two weeks. When I’m not putting together