I was mortified. I was beyond embarrassed. I just couldn't believe that the man that I acted like a total ditz to, the one that I dragged around campus helping me find one of the easiest-to-spot buildings for twenty minutes was none other than Professor Evan McCall, Ph.D. I should've known it was him. After all, I'd done my fair share of salivating over his picture on the dust jacket. But I suppose I just wasn't thinking about it; all I wanted at that moment in time was to get as far away from Paul as possible. But sitting here in his class, looking up at him as he stood at his podium, his handsome face in a serious expression, his black hair slicked back, his obviously-fit body dressed in a smart, black suit sans tie, all I could think about was how much I wanted to crawl into a hole and just disappear.

And I was totally regretting my decision to make a good first impression by taking the middle seat in the class. I just bolted to the chair without looking around, without knowing that the time for first impressions has long passed. He had to know who I was, too. I could tell he was the cool-headed, intellectual type, but the way his gorgeous blue eyes widened just a bit when he spotted me told me all that I needed to know.

Before I could beat myself up for too much longer about it, however, Professor McCall took a glance at the clock, confirming that it was time to begin, before laying his eyes on the class.

"Good morning," he said, his voice rich and warm, the type of voice made for public speaking. "My name is Professor Evan McCall. Welcome to my advanced course, four-oh-four Advanced Archaeology. I'm not going to lie- this is a tough course. Normally, I would only allow for a handful of students, but I decided to let a few more in this semester in order to be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were. I fully expect around half of you to drop the course within the first month."

He strolled away from the podium, a hand in one pocket. I was kind of in awe over the way he commanded the classroom. It was only a couple of minutes into the first class, and he already had all of the students in rapt attention.

"And if you drop, I don't want you to feel bad. I specifically designed this course in order to find out just who would make the most promising students to take under my wing. If a few weeks pass and you find that you're not able or willing to do the work, then please, take that as a sign that archaeology isn't for you- at least, as a profession. Many of you are still in your first couple of years, and you have more than enough time to find a new major, one that's more suited to your talents and interest."

His eyes fell on me at this last statement, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was his way of telling me that he wanted me to drop. I shook this thought out of my mind as stupid and silly.

"So, with that being said, I look forward to the semester ahead. I'm sure that more than a few of you will prove to be stellar students, and hopefully, this course will be the beginning of a fruitful academic career for you in archaeology. And that's my introduction."

I looked around the room, noting that every girl had the same wistful, dreamy look in her eyes. I couldn't blame them- Professor McCall was goddamn gorgeous. Taking one final look over the class, he slipped off his coal-black suit jacket, revealing a crisp, white dress shirt. Sitting back on the edge of his desk, he rolled up his sleeves, showing off his toned, ropy forearms. It was all I could do to not salivate.

"Before I begin, are there any questions over the course?"

Right as the words left his mouth, an idea popped into my head: maybe I could prove that I wasn't a ditz by showing off what I knew. After all, making a reputation right away as a knowledgeable student might go a long way towards showing Professor McCall just what kind of girl I really was. So, I shot my hand up.

He nodded towards me, a curious look crossing his features.

"Please, share your name and your current year level when I call on you," he said, looking around the class.

"Roxanne James, senior," I said, already feeling short of breath. "When looking over the syllabus, I noticed that we're going to be covering Akkadian archeological history. I was wondering if this survey would incorporate recent developments concerning new ruins found near the Hellespont that suggest that the dating of Troy might be earlier than previously thought?"

I say back in my seat, feeling proud at my display of knowledge. That had to show him what I was all about.

But instead of looking impressed, a slightly confused expression formed on his features.

"Well…seeing as how the Akkadians existed over a thousand years before the Trojans, I fail to see how the two subjects are related. But yes, we will be covering some recent developments in the field concerning ancient Troy."

I wanted to die. Here I was, trying to show off my knowledge about the Akkadians to a man who'd literally written the book on the subject. The students nearby all shot hot gazes to me; it was as though they smelled blood in the water. My face went a deep red, and I felt like I just might pass out.

"Any other questions?" Professor McCall asked. "Perhaps ones slightly more germane to the topics at hand?"

First I felt like I was going to pass out, and now I wanted to cry.

The rest of the class was a blur, and I did all I could to keep up. Soon, nine-twenty arrived, and it was time to go.

"Well, that first fifty minutes flew by, didn't it?" asked Professor McCall. "That will be all for the day. Please, for those of you who haven't already, please purchase the text for the course, as well as a copy of my book, from the bookstore. Both will be referenced extensively over the course of the semester. Good day."

With that, the students all got up to leave. A small line, mostly of women, formed in front of Professor McCall, and I decided to take the opportunity to come clean, to apologize for how dumb I acted yesterday. Hopefully, that would get us back onto the right foot. I hoped so, as the thought of spending the semester in a class where the professor thinks I'm a total airhead was just too much to bear. Laughter sounded from the front of the line; he seemed to have a way with the students, putting them all at ease as they asked their questions. I hoped against hope that he would treat me the same way.

Eventually, Professor McCall's budding fan club dissipated, and it was just he and I in the room. My heart pounded as I approached, a nervous sweat already forming on my forehead.

"Yes?" he asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.

"Hi!" I said, the word coming out way more chipper than it should've. "My name's Roxanne James."

"I remember," he said crossing his arms over his chest.

My heart began to pound harder; I could tell that he already wasn't impressed with me.

"Um, I just wanted to, well, say, um, that I'm sorry for yesterday."

He said nothing, instead waiting for me to finish.

"That was a big waste of your time, I'm sure, and I don't want you to think that, um, the way I acted reflects on me as a student."

He looked at me skeptically, his blue eyes catching the afternoon light in a way that seemed to make them glow. It felt like he was staring right through me.

"I suppose I'll have the rest of the semester to see how well it does, in fact, reflect on you as a student."

My heart sank at this.

"Now," he said, standing up, "unless there's anything else, I've got some work to attend to."

He waited for me to answer in the affirmative or negative.

"Um, no. That's all."

And before he could respond, I darted out of the room, my arms holding my binder close to my chest. I couldn't figure out why he was being so mean to me. Was he really so mad that I wasted his time yesterday? I wanted to cry.

I rushed back to my car and by the time I god behind the wheel I resolved to not let Professor McCall's behavior get the best of me. I'd do what I said I was going to do, and that was to let my skills as as student do the talking for me.

As the weeks went on, that's precisely what I did. I threw all of my energy into my studies, forgetting about my social life, and turning the bare minimum acceptability of a performance as possible at the restaurant where I waited tables a few nights a week. I busted my ass, studying nonstop, cramming every bit of knowledge that was in the class's assigned books into my head. It was rough, but when the first quiz came back with a hundred percent score, I knew that my hard work would be worth it. And I might've been imagining it, but it seemed like Professor McCall's attitude towards me was softening.

Things were looking up so far, but it was taking all I had to keep it up. I had no idea for how long I could manage this pace. I guess I was going to find out.