Moaka Chemistry

It's finally starting to get to me. It being my strange obsession with the way he clicks his teeth when he speaks. I'm not sure if I like the sound or that I'm fixating on his mouth.

"Right, so the conjugated bounds encourages the hydrolysis. Very good."

Praise. Oh, I love praise. I soak it up like the sunshine I wish we were experiencing in this dreary part of the country. He continued to prattle on about reactivity with enols. Well spoken, well educated, excellent poise, unfolding sense of quiet authority . . ."Anyone else know what the pKa of this hydrogen would be?"

Don't know. Don't look up. Oooh, pretty eyes. . .dang it.

"Uhhhh...ten?"

"That's right." He continued on. Score another win. Touchdown. Victory dance. Click of the porcelain crown against enamel. I like nervous twitches. It always makes them seem more human, as if they have a chip in their professional armor. In this case, it was a hardly noticed idiosyncrasy that I bet drove his spouse nuts.

I find myself in his office a lot. I hate knowing the answer already but playing the idiot gives me more attention until I can murder the exam. I suppose it can be frustrating to wait patiently as he unravels the problem and figures it out in a triumphant smile while I wait with my fists secretly clenched around my pencil and eraser. His quiet sensibly always made me nervous from the moment I met him. But he reminded me so much of the man I left behind; but he wouldn't move across that line. Never. Right?

So, allow me to recap. If you haven't read my previous story then you wouldn't know the diatribe I gave about authority and my addiction to it. Do yourself a favor and read about biology before moving on to chemistry. Now, if you have read it, congratulations. You know how difficult it is for me not to squirm in class when I am once again confronted with an attractive teacher in control.

"I told you he's a sadist!" I joked after class once, oh so casually without realizing the true implications would shortly be revealed.

"He assigns us a shit-ton of homework and then makes a joke about unleashing our inner masochist for him." My classmate solemnly nodded his head with a small smile. I continued, unheeded. "I guess I can have some kind of crush on him now." I love to joke about blatant self-observations that are entirely unseen to others who don't know the secrets of 'Me'. When a double entendre is perfectly executed, I savor a thrill only shared with myself.

"Isn't he married?" My unwitting friend asked.

Never stopped me before. "I guess." I shrugged half heartily, dismissing the topic as quickly as it came up.

"Hulh. Well, I'm going to head on back. I'll talk to you later, okay?" I didn't think much of the afternoon other than noticing how the soft breeze was tossing up the remaining leaves and spraying vivid colors over the stone stairway. I had taken a break from the lab to go procure some bastardized coffee at the local Starbucks and happened to run into another student from my year. It was perfectly reasonable to find other overworked students around the watering hole during daylight hours.

I hummed to myself as I sipped my latte and pulled my tired frame up the stairs on campus. When was the last time I had a break? I was lost in thought and caught myself slamming into a solid object. Hot soy and caffeine spilled like liquid mana from the heavens, except it was not received with rejoicing. More like a howl as the cup dropped with a hollow tapping down the walkway.

"Auuugh!"

"...wow. Serves me right for not looking up. I'm really sorry."

Click. Well, shit.

"Hey, accidents happen. Good thing it wasn't concentrated acid, right?"

I forced a gulp. My heart was in my mouth because I had just tossed a coffee all over the professor I have a stiff one for. Like the well-mannered perfectionist that he was, he seemed to take it in stride. But when I heard that sound? I knew better.

"Well, it was concentrated coffee. I feel really bad. Can I get you a shirt or something to wear in the gift store? I know it's stupi- " Blah, blah dee, blah. I was actually shocked when he took me up on the offer. He gave his soaked polo a shake.

"Yeah. In fact, I'll walk over there with you and head into the bathroom while you grab me something." He didn't want me to pay for it apparently as he shoved two twenties in my hand. Awkward.

So, the walk over became even more awkward because I wasn't sure if I could walk next to him, in front of him or behind him like a disgraced puppy. I was pretty sure he was pissed, but quietly taking it in. Like a champ, I chose the disgraced puppy position so I could remain the ever groveling, apologetic and lowly graduate student. He propped open the door to the student center.

"Grab something and I'll be in the men's room over there." A nod of his head directed me towards the door obviously marked down the hallway.

"Okay. I'll go take care of it." I didn't plan to over think this as I pulled up a shirt that would fit him. Green? Blue? No, black. But green looks the best on him. I stopped myself with a deep breath as I back peddled. Hurry up and buy the shirt, stupid. He's waiting on you.

I resolved that the price was a complete rip off (Thirty dollars!) and tentatively knocked on the bathroom door.

"Hey, I got it. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, just toss it over the stall door."

Sure, okay. I felt that awkwardness pop up again as I violated a fundamental gender code by entering in the men's bathroom and interacting with a male inside. His presence alone already made me feel nervous and for putting me outside my comfort zone? It was a recipe for disaster, but to my surprise? Apparently it was romance.

The bathroom door slammed open and I was grasped by the front of my sweater and pulled inside. Like a scared rabbit, I froze holding the wad of cash up in my clenched fist and the shirt in the other. He was staring at me, contemplating with calm calculation, and speaking volumes with only a very subtle smile on his face. I let my shoulders relax a little as I quickly classified the situation as a joke. My heart was still up in my mouth, however. A controlled voice emitted darkly,

"Thanks for bringing me my change."

My cheeks blazed as he jerked the freshly purchased t-shirt from my death grip and shoved it into my mouth without much provocation. First instinct is to scream, right? Doesn't matter who it is, with what situation. You're going to scream and he was prepared for that with a tactical silencing. It stung even more to realize that I had just bought my own personal gag.

I dropped the cash and instantly went to clutching at him, pulling at his coffee stained shirt, using my elbows and anything else to keep him off of me. Why didn't I want this? Why did I – Oh, he's got his hand in my bra. . .and the other is pressing me back into the bathroom wall. Okay, not that I minded that he was a bit rough. But I rarely moved this quickly with anyone. From my chest, to my pants, to my now obvious and not so secret shame, that thought brought a cool smile to his blushed face.

"Do anything to get an 'A', right?" He whispered hotly into my ear.

Like a sucker, I groaned eagerly as his fingers encouraged me to rise upon my toes.

-To be continued.