is semester has been busy. He lies there going over the whole situation in his mind, but all that he can grasp onto is the fruity smell of her hair, the soft feel of her skin, and the sound of labored breathing. He lets the previous night repeat over and over in his head.

Finally he is snapped out of his daydreaming by the soft rustling of the lavender sheets next to him. He sees her open her eyes, sees them flutter with the lightness of a butterfly, protecting her beautiful blue eyes from the unbearable brightness of the sun streaming through the blinds.

The light seems brighter than the day before, and he wonders if snow has fallen during the night. The time is coming when sharing a bed with someone wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He can feel the heat emanating from her. He isn’t very accustomed to the sight or feel of snow, and he is half excited to get a look at it. Although, he is even more interested in just staying still and living this moment.

As he sees the confusion disappear from her gaze, she flashes him a smile of acknowledgement. He knows that last night was more than just any old night. He doesn’t want to be the one to interrupt the very calm feeling in the room so he just smiles back, lets his eyes rest, and slowly drifts back to sleep.

He rolls over and looks at the clock, a little groggy, and is flabbergasted to see that it says 11:52. He looks around, nervously, confused as to why he has been left alone in this strange, almost alien place. The walls are covered in a flowery paper that reminds him of his grandmother’s kitchen. The dressers and bed look very feminine to him. He looks around the floor but he can’t seem to find his pants anywhere. He figures that since nobody is around, he might as well try to find them. As he is digging through a pile of wrinkled laundry, the door opens and a girl walks in. She looks startled when they make eye contact, and then quickly turns to leave. He lets out a little laugh, unable to hold his composure. Having found nothing, he decides to forget the whole situation. He just rolls over to fall back asleep.

He wakes up again with the sound of the door closing. He hears footsteps falling softly across the floor. He hears her moving objects around. It sounds like she is frantically searching for something. He lets his eyes peep open, to get a glance at the situation, and she immediately catches him peeking.

“Well, good morning, sunshine. I hope I didn’t wake you,” she says, and she gives him a little kiss on the cheek with the same sort of emotion that she had shown him the night before. She then continues about her business in the room, moving this from here to there and that back over to here. He just watches as she moves so elegantly across the room, with the finesse and air of a sixth generation European princess, so refined and so exquisite that he can’t help but become entranced. When she catches him looking at her, she just gives him a soft, almost tempting smile, does a ballerina’s spin, and lets out a naïve laugh. With all of this happening, he almost forgets about his missing clothing, but as she is about to exit again, he is able to get a few awkward words out.

“Hey, have you seen my pants?” And just as he says it, he immediately regrets it. He feels his face turn a bright shade of red.

“I’ve seen more than that,” she responds. “I set them over here on the chair so they wouldn’t get mixed into my mess.” With that she walks over to the periwinkle chair against the far wall and she brings him everything he had worn the day before, folded neatly into a pile.

“Thank you,” he says, and his cheeks begin to flush again. “Do you have a busy day today, or do you have a chance to sit down and talk for a while after I get dressed?”

“I’m pretty busy,” she responds, hurried, “but I’ll see you tomorrow in class. If you have a little time afterwards we can grab a cup of coffee if you’d like.”

“Yeah...yeah, I would really like that,” he manages to stammer out with a smile. With that she flashes him another smile (the kind that could melt away any doubt he still had in his mind), gives a little wave and walks out the door again, remembering to grab her notebook on the way out.

The next day, he walks into the classroom and takes the same seat that he has sat in every Tuesday and Thursday for the last eleven weeks. Finally, he sees her enter the room, wearing a white blouse and the same blue high heeled shoes that she wore Saturday night when he saw her at the bar. She almost seems not to notice him sitting there, but as she sets her bag down on the table and turns around to pick up the chalk she gives him a hidden smile.

“Today we are going to be talking about Sophocles,” she starts the lecture…