Burning Up

Motion

The days that followed my first shift at 'La Caleta' passed in a blur, and before I knew it, my first day of classes had arrived. I was running late, as usual, and by the time I reached campus, the lecture hall was already full.

Ducking in behind a steady stream of stragglers, I made my way silently towards an almost empty row in the middle of the auditorium and settled myself into my seat. I glanced over at the group of girls at the end of my row and smiled shyly before pulling my laptop and charger out of my bag and setting them on the desk in front of me. I felt slightly awkward sitting alone and so hastily opened the file that held my pre-reading notes and scanned over them to make myself seem busy.

I'd gone a bit overboard with my preparation, but I was satisfied that I knew everything we'd been asked to learn and so let my eyes drift across the room, taking in modern auditorium with its fancy projector and fold out seats. I was relieved to see that although most students were male, there was at least one girl for every two boys there.

I continued to look around before finally letting my eyes rest on the professor. He was middle aged but slender, with greying hair that stood out against his tanned skin. I couldn't help but watch in amusement as he fumbled around with his armful of unorganised papers before finally giving up and setting them down awkwardly on his messy desk.

"Alright." He began, silencing the rummaging that echoed through the hall. "Welcome to intro to history 028, I'm Professor Jones-"

I was so caught up in the lecture that I almost didn't notice Iago sneak into the hall. He was dressed in his usual fit of a dark grey hoodie and black cargo pants, but it was only when he pulled down his hood to reveal his buzz cut that I realised that it was him.

He seemed out of place in the large hall, almost as if the second his brooding form entered the room, he was searching for the exit.

I watched him scan around the room, nodding his head apologetically at the lecturer before lifting his gaze towards the seating. My heart stuttered as his eyes met mine and his closed off expression lifted slightly. He made his way up the stairs towards me, shouldering his backpack as he went before sitting heavily in the chair to my right.

"Hi." His voice was deep and smooth.

"Hi." I whispered back, glancing over at him.

"You're English?" He asked as he leant into my space slightly, keeping his voice low.

"You're American?" I replied, feigning surprise. He grinned, leaning down and pulling his laptop out of his bag before placing it next to mine on the desk.

"Something like that." He muttered. "I'm Iago." I watched him glance towards the professor, as if checking he hadn't been heard, before shifting again in his seat.

"Mila." I replied, trying to contain my laugh at his inability to sit still.

I leant back in my seat, trying to ignore my blush as I felt my arm brush against his. He'd obviously run from wherever he'd been to avoid missing the lecture, and as we sat there in a comfortable silence, I could feel heat radiating from him from beneath his hoodie.

Seeming to read my thoughts, he leant forwards, hands gripping the edge of the thick material before pulling it up and over his head. As it lifted, his shirt came up with it, exposing his washboard abs which were littered with tattoos.

I tried not to let my eyes linger for more than a second but found that I couldn't help myself. I was obsessed by the simple but elegant tattoo of a dagger that went vertically down the firm muscle of his oblique. I bit my lip, forcing myself to hold back the urge to run my finger along it.