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went out during the day, too,
and then it was usually for a hike or picnic in the nearby Wasatch Mountains. I
was having the time of my life just being a teenager for once. However, none of
Riana’s boyfriends interested me as potential date material because Justin
Mackey blinded me to their charms.
    On the first day back after fall break, I
used every beauty tip that Rihanna had showed me to try to stand out in English
class. Of course, there were probably fifty students in the class, and many of
them were other girls who also wanted to catch Prof. Mackey's eye. My plan to
stand out relied more on my ability to impress him with answers to his
questions on the reading material. It didn't quite work as planned, however, on
that first day, because I had read the wrong assignment over the break.
    During the next class, my plan worked much
better, as I had taken care to read exactly what was expected. I even visited
some online teaching sites to get an idea of the questions he might ask about
it, and prepared answers that I thought were brilliant.
    That day I garnered a much treasured
"excellent answer, Ms. Nielsen" from my heartthrob. I’d been looking
for an opening like it. After class, I joined the gaggle of groupies that
surrounded him as he packed up his briefcase. I had no idea what they usually
said to him, so I intended to hang back and listen to the other girls, but when
I got there, Prof. Mackey was doing the talking. He seemed to be flirting with
all of us at once. God, up close he was even more gorgeous. His eyes, which I
hadn't been able to see before, were green with flecks of gold in them. With
his Byron-esque hair, those eyes did things to my body that I knew were sinful.
Paralyzed, I couldn't say a word.
    "Ms. Nielsen," he said, "I
was very impressed by your analysis today. You seem to have a real feel for
this era. I appreciate your contributions in class."
    If he had told me I was the most beautiful
woman he had ever seen, and that he wanted to tear off my clothes and ravish
me, I couldn't have been more pleased. Even though that was exactly what I
wanted. I could feel myself beginning to blush and the more I blushed the more
embarrassed I got. To my horror, I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just
grinned. Prof. Mackey grinned back and said, "Oh, I've embarrassed you,
I'm sorry."
    "Oh no,” I said, “thank you for the
compliment." Geez, what lame thing was going to come out of my mouth next?
I figured I'd better quit while I was ahead and turned to go. Prof. Mackey
stopped me.
    "Would you like to get a coffee?"
he asked. The other girls looked daggers at me as my stomach did a flip.
    "I'd love to!" I said.
    "Well then," he said, "let's
go." To the other girls, he said, "See you next class, girls."
For all that it was a pleasant thing to say, it was clearly a brush off. I
couldn't help but feel pleased that he had singled me out.
    Over coffee, Prof. Mackey asked me to call
him Justin and began calling me Janey. He told me he had been watching me in
class. "It's a real pleasure to see a student who is genuinely interested
in my subject," he said.
    "It's my favorite," I admitted.
    "Really? And why is that?"
    I almost panicked. It took me about half a
second to realize that I shouldn't tell him the real reason, because of the
themes of alienation and self-examination. That I related to those themes,
never more so than here at college. I didn't fit into modern time, and yet, I
longed to break away from where I did fit in. Instead, I gave him some lame
answer about loving the stories, and appreciating the modern language. That raised
his eyebrows.
    He knew it was a lie, I could tell from his
expression, and I knew it was bullshit, but neither of us said so. He didn't
give any indication of why he thought I would lie, just started asking me about
myself. When I told him I was a freshman and eighteen, almost nineteen, it
raised his eyebrows again.
    "What are you doing in a sophomore
class?" He asked.
    Once