Sweatpants Season

by Danielle Allen

  “Exactly.” Jennifer threw her arms up in exasperation. “We have to compromise.”

  I furrowed my brows. “No, we have to agree…” I glanced at the door as several people streamed in. A few of them found seats, but a group of four crowded around Luca’s desk, waiting. Not wanting to make a scene, I lowered my voice slightly. “And I don’t agree with this bullshit.”

  She gasped and recoiled. “How dare you call my list bullshit! This is my opinion!”

  I pointed at her list and then met her eyes unflinchingly. “Your opinion is your opinion. It is not our opinion.” I looked around the room, most of the seats were filled. “It’s your opinion. And I can accept your opinion as yours, but I’ll be damned if I cosign on an opinion I don’t believe in.”

  “Just because you are a little on the heavy side doesn’t mean that thin shouldn’t be on the list, Kia.”

  My head snapped back to Jennifer as I glared at her.

  She knew my name. But two can play this game.

  I picked up my pen and scratched out her name on my paper. Standing, I grabbed my notebook and my handbag. “You can put whatever you want to put on your list, Jeanine.” Gesturing between the two of us, I smirked. “Because this isn’t going to work. Perhaps your new partner will agree with you.”

  “What?” Panic filled her eyes. “But we’re already partners!”

  I lifted my shoulders as I held up the paper with the line through her name. “And now, we’re not.”

  “Whatever, it’s for the best anyway,” she snapped, throwing the words at my back as I walked off. “Your feelings wouldn’t be so hurt if you lost a few pounds. Just twenty or so around the hips.”

  Shaking my head, I didn’t bother to look back. “Okay, Janet.”

  She grumbled under her breath as I made my way to the back corner, closest to the window.

  I had two options for a new partner—a talkative woman in the front row and a man who appeared to be sleeping in the back row. Without even thinking about it, I’d realized that I’d made the decision to go for the least obvious choice.

  The man with his head down on the desk was turned toward the window so I couldn’t see his face. His broad shoulders and head were completely covered with his hoodie. I couldn’t tell what he looked like, but there was something comforting and nonthreatening about someone who arrived to class before anyone else and was comfortable enough to take a full-blown power nap in the back.

  He either has too much time on his hands or not enough, I mused as I took a seat beside him as quietly as possible. And if he needs a nap, he’s less likely to talk my head off.

  After placing my bag on the table, I opened my notebook and glanced over at the man in the oversized hoodie. I waited silently until the clock at the front of the room said it was one minute until six o’clock before interrupting his slumber.

  Clearing my throat, I gently tried to rouse my new partner awake. “Excuse me?” I whispered, my hand hovering over his back. I hesitated to actually touch him, so my hand just hung in the air above him before I brought it back to my lap. “Sorry to wake you, but we have an assignment to complete in the next eleven minutes.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Knocking on the table in front of him, I spoke a little louder. “Hello? Time for class to start. We have an assignment.”

  He still didn’t respond.

  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up please,” I muttered defeatedly.

  I looked around and just as I considered going to find another partner, the instructor stood in front of his desk. In a pair of dark denim jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and black, leather boots, the photography phenom Luca Romano greeted the class. “Welcome to Visual Storytelling.”

  I stopped mid-thought.

  Oh wow.

  It was a little irritating that Jennifer was right, but there was no denying my attraction to my teacher. His thick, Italian accent was sensual and immediately had me smitten. I was already taken with his talent, but I could’ve listened to him talk for hours.

  There were stories in books, TV shows, and movies dedicated to someone being hot for the teacher. But that was never my experience. I’d never in my life had a teacher fantasy because I’d never in my life had a teacher that was worth fantasizing about. There weren’t any teachers in high school that I had a crush on. There weren’t any professors in college that I was infatuated with. There weren’t even any teacher’s assistants that I had sexual thoughts about. But the tall, dark, and handsome man who greeted the class with the sexiest accent I’d ever heard in person captured my attention immediately.

  “Good evening. Welcome to Photography 250: Visual Storytelling. My name is Luca Romano. Before I get started, please understand that this workshop is unlike most adult education classes offered through the Department of Parks and Recreation. This is a hybrid class. We only meet in the classroom today and in five weeks on the final day. Between now and then, I will give you virtual lessons, and you’ll submit assignments online. My priority will be to show you how I create art and hope that it inspires you to find your eye and create art for yourself. I’m not a teacher in the traditional sense because that’s not my skillset. I am an artist. I am a storyteller. My goal is to make you an artist and a storyteller. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, eyes glued to him. Each word out of his mouth made my body take notice.

  “Is everyone in the right class?”

  “Yes,” I answered again as if he were speaking only to me.

  Licking his lips, Luca’s gaze settled on me momentarily before it skirted around the room. “I’m going to give you a quick overview of how our classes will work and then you will start with your icebreaker activity. Every Monday I will post your weekly lesson. Your homework will always be to capture your own version of what I taught you and submit it, unedited, within five days. There will be a partner component for the first and last assignments and I will touch on that when the time comes. But for right now, I want to make sure you understand the basics.” He clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. “Sounds good?”

  Sounds really good, Luca. Can I call you Luca?

  He flashed us a grin. “Are you ready to get started?”

  “Yes…” I was pretty sure I moaned.

  “Something you may not know is that you are all writers. Every single one of you are writers, creators, storytellers. You were partly chosen because of that fact. All of you are talented writers—from personal bloggers, travel bloggers, fiction writers, journalists, poets, lyricists. You are in this room with people who are in the same field as you on some level. Now, turn to the person you are sharing a table with—that’s your partner. Get familiar with them. They will be your partner for the duration of this course. Your first and last in the field projects will involve the person sitting next to you. So, look at your neighbor… this is who you will be working with. Any questions?”

  I shook my head.

  He looked around and smiled. “I see some of you have already gotten started, so I’ll give you ten minutes to complete the assignment that was sitting on your desk when you arrived, and then you will share. As you begin to combine lists, remember—both partners must agree on every adjective used in the five words you present.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk in Jennifer’s direction as soon as those words came out of his mouth.

  Sighing, I turned toward my sleeping partner, ready to shake him awake, and abruptly stopped.

  Soft, brown eyes framed by the longest, darkest lashes I’d ever seen blinked over at me.

  “You scared me!” I yelped, my hand flew to my chest.

  His eyebrows furrowed, and his full lips pulled upward. It wasn’t quite a smile, but he appeared moderately amused. “How? I was here first.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to turn around and have you staring at me with those eyes.”

  “Were you expecting me to be staring at you with someone else’s eyes?” His flat tone and slight tilt of the head was so o
n time, it felt scripted.

  I let out a slack-jawed giggle, more out of the shock of his response than anything else.

  I couldn’t tell if he was a sarcastic gentleman or a charming asshole. He managed to be warm and inviting, but his tone was unchanged, and his facial expression remained blank. He didn’t follow his rhetorical question with a laugh but based on his relaxed body language and the glint in his eyes, he didn’t appear to be serious. He was hard to read, but his vibe felt good to my soul. He was a host of inconsistencies, and that was both interesting and irritating at the same time. But I kind of liked it.

  Not to mention his voice sounds like sex feels…

  Shaking the thought out of my head, I rolled my eyes and replied, “No, I was expecting you to still be asleep.”

  “I was never asleep. I was resting my eyes.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I scoffed playfully. “So, what’s your deal? I got here early, and you were the only one here, sleeping. Who can sleep in a classroom full of people you presumably don’t know?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t asleep.” He gave me a look. “What’s your deal? Who calls a grown ass man Sleeping Beauty?”

  I blinked rapidly, trying to think of something to say. “So, um… you heard that?”

  “You can’t be aware of your surroundings if you’re asleep.” He winked. “I was resting my eyes.”

  “Sorry…” I made a face. “When I called you Sleeping Beauty, I didn’t mean any disre—”

  He shook his head, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Thanks,” I mouthed sheepishly.

  “But let me ask you a question… why are you here?”

  “Because Luca Romano is probably the best photographer on the East Coast, maybe the world,” I gushed, bringing my hand to my chest. “I remember the first time I saw one of his photographs. It was of an old woman and I felt like I could see her wisdom. It was so vivid, so real, and so powerful that I felt like he was able to capture everything that she’d ever learned in the course of her life. I felt like I knew her. I’d never seen a photograph like it! I told myself that in everything I do, I want to evoke that kind of emotion. I want to tell a story with my work.”

  “Oh, okay,” he remarked with an approving nod. “Sounds like you’re serious.”

  “Very serious… about this class and about my love of his work.” Realizing how intense I probably sounded, I cleared my throat and picked a nonexistent piece of lint from my pantleg. “What about you? Why are you here?”

  “If I’m going to be the best, I have to learn from the best. I’m working on a collection of essays that I want to publish. Adding photos that correspond with the essays on my website will help it stand out.”

  “Oh, wow!” I was impressed. “When are you looking to publish?”

  “The website will launch next month. I’m releasing the book in January.” He glanced up at me from what he was writing. “That’s why I wanted to know if you were serious. If I have to be partnered with someone for the next five weeks, I need it to be with someone who is taking it as seriously as I am.”

  “I’m right there with you,” I agreed earnestly, scanning what I could see of his face, trying to get a better look at him. In every one of his slight movements, his confidence poured out of him. I was curious about the mystery man who was now my partner. “One hundred percent.”

  “Just looking and listening, I know there’s at least a couple of people who are here just to say they took this class.” He lifted his hands and shrugged. “I’m not judging, but I’d rather work alone than to have anyone get in the way of my growth and progression.”

  My eyebrows flew up. Hearing him echo my sentiments emphasized that I’d made a great decision. But hearing the passion in his voice stirred something within me.

  “Yes… I agree wholeheartedly.” Taking a glimpse at the clock, I gave him a quizzical look. “Speaking of…” I slid my list to the middle of the table. “Where’s your list?”

  He put his paper right beside mine and then ran his hand over his beard contemplatively.

  Tearing my eyes away from him, I noticed his paper didn’t have his name on it. Before giving his list a complete onceover, I met his eyes again. “What’s your name?”

  He stuck his hand out to shake mine. “Carlos Richmond.”

  My smaller, softer hand slid into his larger one. “Akila Bishara.”

  “Akila Bishara… that’s interesting.” He held my gaze and my hand for a beat too long.

  “I’m interesting,” I returned, removing my hand from his.

  “I’m sure you are.” Sitting back in his chair, he eyed me. His laser-like vision moved over the elongated strands of my naturally coiled hair. “Interesting for sure.”

  I knew instinctively that he was playing with me, even though his emotionless face and slightly sarcastic tone said otherwise. There was a familiarity in the way he interacted with me. It was playful, but not overtly so. I couldn’t really explain why I was so intrigued by him, but I wasn’t ready to let him know that yet.

  I narrowed my eyes at him, trying not to smile. “You’re not wrong.”

  “I know.” His eyes danced as he licked his lips. Slipping his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, he pulled out a cell phone. Checking it briefly, he placed it on the table in front of him and then directed his attention back to me. “I’m never wrong about people.”

  His cryptic response intrigued me even more.

  “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly what it sounds like—I’m never wrong about people. You can tell a lot about a person if you look and listen.”

  I lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “This is true,” I agreed, biting my lip to keep from grinning. “But I imagine that’s hard to do when you’re sleeping.”

  He shook his head, turning toward the window, away from me. Although he did his best to hide it by scrubbing his face with his hands, I caught the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. When he turned back toward me, his face was once again expressionless. The fact that I amused him amused me and for the first time, I embraced the connection I felt with him.

  He tried to give me a serious expression, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter. “You’re funny. I was awake.” There was a glimpse of something that I couldn’t quite describe that changed the way he looked at me. After a brief pause, he added, “You’re definitely interesting.”

  Folding my arms over my chest, I lifted an eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just an observation. You’re interesting…different…unique. Your name is unique. Your style is unique. Your look is unique.” He shrugged. “That’s all.”

  “You don’t know me, Carlos Richmond.”

  “But I have eyes and ears, Akila Bishara.” Looking at my paper, he jotted my name down on his paper and then returned his eyes to mine. “I’ve never seen Akila spelled like that. Honestly, I’ve only seen Akila spelled on the movie poster about the little girl and the spelling bee.”

  I suppressed a giggle and nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

  A slight smile played on his lips as he continued. “Your style is dope… or you spilled something on your work shirt and that’s all you had in the car. Either way, anyone who wears grey dress pants and a black Biggie t-shirt is a woman who is about her business and who knows what’s up. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it works.”

  I laughed. “Oh, okay. Thank you.” I paused, twisting my lips into a dubious grin. “I think.”

  Staring at me thoughtfully, he concluded with a shrug. “And your look is different., interesting. You’re pretty, but there’s something interesting about it, about you—and that’s what makes you beautiful.”

  I felt my cheeks heating. “Thank you,” I whispered, holding his gaze.

  The way he said it was unlike any other time a man had ever called me beautiful. It didn’t seem to be coming from a place of desire or lust. It didn’t even s
eem to be coming from a place of attraction. His words and the look he gave me to accompany those words seemed to come from an artistic place. And for some reason, that compliment was ten times more powerful.

  “You have one more minute to compare your lists,” Luca announced.

  He slid the hoodie off his head, exposing a perfectly lined haircut that faded into a sexy mid-length beard. Blemish-free skin, full, sexy lips, and straight, white teeth accompanied the gorgeous, brown eyes to create a face so handsome that it caught me off guard.

  Oh, hello!

  Spiritually, my energy was already attracted to him. Intellectually, I was attracted to his conversation. But after seeing his whole face, I was also physically and sexually attracted to Carlos Richmond.

  I glanced up at Luca Romano and realized the stark difference between thinking someone is attractive and being attracted to someone. Luca was attractive, and I momentarily had a crush on his talent. But what I’d felt with Carlos was unprecedented.

  Turning back toward my partner, I was again struck by how attracted I was to him. The endorphins were flooding my system, and it was too much too soon. Clearing my throat, I pulled my eyes away from his and stared at our lists. I tried not to beam as my eyes moved over how he defined beautiful.

  “That’s crazy,” I murmured.

  His list was not at all what I expected, but somehow, very much what I should’ve expected from him.

  “We have a couple of the same things.” He pointed at his paper. “As you can see, interesting is at the top of the list.”

  I looked down at his paper, hoping to hide the fact that my cheeks heated as I smiled again. “So, we both wrote down kindness, confidence, and intelligence”—I circled those on both of our papers— “I agree with your interesting so that’s four. And you don’t have a fifth one.”

  “If a woman is interesting, kind, confident, and intelligent, she is beautiful,” he replied.

  “But what attracts you to a woman?” I asked more for my own general curiosity than for the assignment.