FINALLY! I was happy that school was back in session! I couldn't WAIT to get back to campus. I LOVE school. I was good at it, carrying a solid 3.5, majoring in Architecture. I was reasonably hot, so there was no shortage of guys trying to get with me. But mostly, I loved school because my mother wasn't there. It wasn't that I didn't love my mother. I did, I mean I do, but she was still so bitter and angry that any time spent with her felt like penance for some great injustice.
Look, I support everyone's right to their own pursuits of happiness, and I'm perfectly willing to let 'you do you.' But sometimes, one person's happiness causes someone else's pain. That's what happened in my family. In fact, you've probably heard about my family's issues. Let me explain.
My name is Breen Sullivan. My parents named me Sabrina. My big sister, Allyson was only three when I was born, and she couldn't pronounce 'Sabrina', so she called me 'Breen.' I liked it, and somehow it stuck. Anyway, you've never heard of me. But I'm sure you've heard about my sister Allyson and my father Roland Sullivan.
Our family went on vacation when Allie graduated from college two years ago. We wanted a cruise, and Dad decided to rent a yacht for the week, so it would just be us. On the first day, my mom and I got really seasick, and ended up spending the week at Atlantis, where we had a fantastic time.
Dad and Allie stayed with the private boat, and a freak storm at sea crashed their boat into a huge rock. They ended up stranded on some deserted island. They were missing for over six months. When they were found, Allie was four months pregnant! I know, right??!!
That story was on every fucking screen in the world for a week or so. "Father rescued with 4-month pregnant daughter after being alone for six months". It was friggin' everywhere! I had just started college when they were found. My friends wouldn't shut up about it. Reporters were calling. I went to the same school Allie had just graduated from, so a lot of people knew her. People were whispering and pointing, "That's the sister. I wonder..." But as bad as it was for me, mom had it worse. I mean, basically, her husband left her for her daughter. That's gotta hurt.
She was a good mom, but she was never Little Miss Sunshine. She was always a lot stricter than dad. She'd get upset over things while he'd shrug things off and let them go. And once the transgressions were over, he'd forget all about it, while she remembered every mistake and misstep, and constantly brought it back up. Still, she didn't deserve what happened. Like I said, her husband left her for their daughter.
What Dad and Allie did was illegal, but they were never charged. They managed to get on a plane to St. Maarten before the Bahamian authorities ever decided to arrest them. One news writer even suggested that the Bahamians had no appetite for such a sensationalist case, and purposely dragged their feet on charging them until they were safely away. That way, they were someone else's problem. Whatever the case, they still live in St. Maarten with my new niece, Madison. Or sister/niece, I guess.
I'm not angry with them, and we still talk. While what they did was wrong according to, well, most everybody, they are adults, and their decision was theirs. Yes, mom was hurt, but if he'd run off with one of Allie's friends, it would have hurt just as much, while society wouldn't have said a word. Like I said, I've always believed in 'You do you.' I've only seen Madison in pictures and via FaceTime. Dad said he'd send me a ticket to visit, but I know that if I go, at least for now, mom will cut me off, too. I don't want her to be alone.
My friends have asked me, what if it had been me on that island. I told them pretty confidently, nothing would have happened. My father is objectively good-looking, and I can certainly see what Allie sees in him. But I just can't see him like that. He's just my dad, He's a good dad other than, you know, impregnating my sister, and he was always good to me. But he and I were never as close as him and Allie. And once she turned 18, the way she acted with him made me blush. So, when I saw them get off that helicopter and saw that she was pregnant, I wasn't entirely surprised.
And now you're all caught up. But this is not their story. This is about me, and what started in my junior year in college.
Dad had told me that Junior Year is very important. He said that that's when you get into the meat of your professional education classes. So I was looking forward to Principles of Architecture 301. The first really core class I would take. I got to the classroom early, chose a desk and settled in. As my classmates filed in, and people who'd shared classes before greeted each other, I was looking through the textbook, adjusting the font size on my tablet. The class got quiet as the professor walked in. I looked up, and just like that, I fell in love. Well, lust at least.
He spoke. "Good morning, everyone. My name is Professor Julian Santoro. Welcome to Principles of Architecture. The course number is ARC 301, but everyone calls it Arc 101, since this is where you first learn what it means to want to be an architect."
The man looked like he was drawn from every schoolgirl fantasy I ever had. He was tall, easily over six feet, Hispanic with lovely olive skin, thick black hair with a two-day stubble, and a solid build. At first, I thought he looked too young to be a professor, but as I raised my eyes from his smoking hot Latino body and looked in his dreamy face and smoldering eyes, I could see he was an older guy who looked young. Even better. I was mildly surprised to realize he reminded me of my dad.
Not in looks, because they looked nothing alike. It was more in the way they both carried themselves. They both had this casual grace that comes from being truly comfortable in your own skin, and confident in what you bring. His speech, his movements, even his smile oozed a confident sexiness. I looked at the other girls in the class. They seemed equally smitten. If he was a professor, then he'd been teaching for years. Heaven knows how many young impressionable girls had hurled themselves at his feet. I resolved not to be one of them!
As the class went on, I was more and more mesmerized by him, in spite of my resolution. You could tell... this man knew his stuff. By the end of that first class, I'd made a new resolution... do well enough to impress him. Then maybe he'd write me a good recommendation for my first job. Much better plan. He warned us to be ready on Wednesday, since that was the beginning of the end for some of us.
I have no idea what happened for the rest of the day, since I couldn't stop thinking about one Julian Santoro. It also bears mentioning that I had completely managed to convince myself that I did
not
find his age, his being older, attractive. There are no lies as compelling as the ones we tell ourselves.
I managed to pay attention in all my other classes, just enough to keep abreast. But for Arc 101, I read the first three chapters of
The Structure As Art
. Not only read them but read them and understood them. Wednesday came, and I was more than ready.
It was a good thing, too, because the sweet, cool, and sexy Professor Santoro was gone and in his place was an architectural tyrant. He'd expected the class to read the first two chapters, and he dived into them with gusto. I was one of only two other students who took that seriously. We were answering questions and asking good follow-up questions. The other two were guys, and we were three little brown-nosers. I didn't care... this was a real course, and it was my future career. I took this seriously. As the class ended, I caught him smiling in my direction. I was elated.
The next two weeks went much the same, with me being an overachiever for this Latin heartthrob of a professor. The bonus was that I was learning a lot in his class. I learned things that I found helpful in other classes. After the last class of the third week, he asked me to come by his office for a chat, if I had time.
The Romantic in me was elated... 'We were going to make love in his office!'. The Feminist in me was appalled... 'How dare he think we're going to make love in his office!' The College Girl in me was outraged... 'Does he think I'm going to fuck him for a better grade?!
'
Those three different girls were fighting like demons in my mind as I walked behind him to his office. Goddammit, even his stride was sexy!
We got to his office, and he let me go in first. I took a seat in one of chairs as he sat at his desk. The bastard even had a very comfortable-looking tan leather sofa on one wall.
'The nerve!' said College Girl .
"Thanks for seeing me, Breen," he said. "I teach hundreds of students a year. Maybe five of them are serious about the craft. You seem like one of them."
"Umm, thanks, Professor Santoro," I replied, the three
Girls
inside me still wary.
"Don't thank me," he said, smoothly. "You're the kind of student that makes teaching worthwhile. Students like you are why we teach. At least, that's true for me."
'Here it comes,' said the Feminist. 'Yeah,' agreed the College Girl... 'here comes the offer for
"extra tutoring"!
Asshole!' 'You really think so?' asked giddy-ass Romantic.
"Anyway, you're clearly very bright, and you seem to have no problem staying ahead of the curve in class. That's why I think you should change your major."
"What?!" asked the four of us. "If I'm doing so well, why do you want to kick me out of the major? What the hell?!"
