Page 16 of Yours, Unexpectedly

After another awkward second of eye contact, I make a face at him and he huffs in amusement, clapping his hands together. “Everyone circle up.”

I make my way slowly to the stage area, trying to figure out how to play this.

Step. Do I stand near Anders?

Step. Or try to get as far away as possible?

Step. I settle on giving myself distance but that ends up putting me directly across from him in the circle. I can see the deep green of his eyes even from here. He gives me an evil grin before rearing back and pretending to hurl a basketball size ball of energy toward me, yelling “ZIP!” at the top of his lungs.

Excuse me?! It is not even 9:30 a.m.—I’m going to need him to tone it down a bit. I narrow my eyes at him as I “catch” the ball and turn to find someone else in the circle.

“Zap…” I say with as much conviction as I can muster, which is admittedly not much, tossing the pretend energy ball to a blonde girl who looks very excited to be here.

“Keep up the energy!” Anders reminds us while looking directly at me, and I promise I really try to stop the eye roll from happening, but alas, I can only do so much without caffeine in my veins.

The game continues with varying levels of participation from the rest of the students in class. I try to discreetly keep my eye on Anders, finding that I enjoy watching him in his natural habitat.

He moves his body so easily for a relatively big guy. I’m not sure how tall he is, but I’d guess around six foot. Slightly shorter than Gabe, for sure. He’s muscled but not extremely defined. I catch myself staring at the way his biceps move as he tosses pretend balls of energy, acting as if they weigh different amounts each time it comes to him.

I’m watching said bicep when I realize the room has gotten kind of quiet. Looking up, I see Anders’ smug face staring back at me along with a room full of other eyes.

Shit. Caught red-handed checking out the freaking teacher. I mean I don’t see him as a teacher figure but all the freshmen in this intro class have no idea that I actually know Anders. And also, am I still drunk? What is wrong with me?

I fumble my hands around, pretending to catch a ball and preparing to throw it to someone else. “Uhm. Zip?” I guess.

“Eerrrt.” He makes a loud-ass buzzer noise, eyes twinkling. “Wrong, but good guess. It’s okay, it was time to wrap up that exercise anyway. Let’s wind down with three deep breaths. We are going to breathe in through your nose for four, hold it, and then release for four through your mouth. Picture your diaphragm filling and emptying as you do this.” He places his hand near the top of his stomach for emphasis.

We take three deep breaths as a class—the entire time I keep my eyes firmly planted on a piece of tape on the ground to avoid anymore drooling over biceps—and then head back to our seats.

“As I explained on Monday, this class will include a lot of technique and acting exercises, as well as some brief lectures thrown in the mix. If you have any kind of theater background, it will probably be pretty easy for you. That being said, I really want to challenge you to dig deep and find it within yourself to be bold and try new things. This is a safe space.”

I am mesmerized by him. He speaks in front of the class with such confidence, and I’m caught up in the movement of his mouth as he talks. Is that weird? Probably, but I’m in deep at this point.

Sitting back with a sigh, I look around the room and realize that every other girl in this room, and most of the guys, are looking at Anders the same way I just was. There’s a mix of fascination and longing on their faces, and I realize that’s probably how most people look at him.

Anders Olsson: Golden Boy.

Well, fuck. I’ve spent the last six years trying not to be like all of the people in this room, trying to will myself away from Anders’ allure, and it’s all come crashing down in less than a week.

By the end of class, I’ve worked myself into a bad mood. I stuff everything back into my bag and glare angrily at the coffee that no one ever claimed as I walk toward the exit.

Anders’ voice cuts through my anger. “Uh, Rebecca Bardot, could you come see me?”

It never fails to send a shiver down my spine when he calls me “Rebecca.” I slowly turn around and head toward the front of the room, getting death glares from Anders’ admirers along the way.

I give them all a little wave as I go.

Anders finishes up his conversation and waits until everyone has left the room before those piercing green eyes meet mine.

“Baby Bardot, you did great in class today. Though maybe showing up hungover and blatantly ogling the teacher isn’t the best move.”

“I wasn’t ogling you!” I can’t argue with the hungover part though.

“Whatever you say.” His lips tilt up in a smile but a flare of apprehension flashes in his eyes. “Was the coffee too much?” He lifts his chin toward the full to-go cup of coffee that still sits on the ground by my old seat.

“I mean it was pretty distracting having to sit in class and smell my favorite coffee the entire time, especially since I didn't have time to grab any this morning. And whoever it was for didn’t even show up,” I scoff. I’m exhausted now and I just want to leave and get my own coffee.

He looks down at his shoes and I think this is the most hesitant I’ve ever seen him.

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