(no subject)
Click. Glance. Repeat.
This is what I do in ENG 285 instead of listen and take notes.
Click. Glance.
He kept clicking his pen to get her attention. Within the subdued classroom and the brutal discussion of Shakespeare a series of simple clicks continually broke through the monotony.
Othello.
Click. Glance.
Desdemona.
Click. Glance.
It was creating a gentle rhythm within the circle of desks and warm, echoing tone of the professor's voice.
Click. Glance. Smile.
She knew the smile she'd just given him. Lips parting just enough for a glimpse of teeth as she shyly looks away. The intamcy of this gesture surprised him, enough to click again.
Click. Glance. Eyebrows.
His eyebrows raised, the expression on his face held the intoxicating challenge that only truly confident flirts could get away with. It intrigued her enough to hold this particular glance a moment longer than the preceding one.
Click. Glance. Hold.
Both pairs of eyes were finally focused in unison. Words were silently being passed between the sea of desks, so many that only they could even begin to decipher the hidden messages traveling through two pairs of eyes.
His head leans on his desk, face turned sideways on his arm--still looking toward her. Her head balances on her fisted hand, purposefully supporting her chin. Eyes still looking toward him.
Click. Glance. Think.
This unison look has no silent words, but instead silent thoughts. She is thinking of how inviting and effortlessly charming his eyes and boyish face seem, lying there looking back at her so innocently. He is thinking of all her features at once, taking them all in and vaguely trying to focus on a favorite.
Click. Glance. Break.
This click is different in that it does not bring their eyes together, but instead abruptly breaks their focus.
Pause. Pause. Focus.
Clicks cease as attention is momentarily shifted to their professor's echoing voice.
Click. Focus. Click.
His hand raises, eyes focus on the professor and in his waiting for participation, creates a series of clicks on the front of his backwards baseball cap.
Click. Speak. Click.
He describes a metaphor on page fifty two. Something involving monkeys. This makes her smile slightly, faking interest in the text.
That's all I've got. Dunno if I'm gonna do more with it or not. However, since I wrote it the glances have increased, as has the talking and interesting situations I get myself into. I am going to make a great high school teacher, because if nothing else, I will forever understand fascinations with relationships and the opposite sex.
This is what I do in ENG 285 instead of listen and take notes.
Click. Glance.
He kept clicking his pen to get her attention. Within the subdued classroom and the brutal discussion of Shakespeare a series of simple clicks continually broke through the monotony.
Othello.
Click. Glance.
Desdemona.
Click. Glance.
It was creating a gentle rhythm within the circle of desks and warm, echoing tone of the professor's voice.
Click. Glance. Smile.
She knew the smile she'd just given him. Lips parting just enough for a glimpse of teeth as she shyly looks away. The intamcy of this gesture surprised him, enough to click again.
Click. Glance. Eyebrows.
His eyebrows raised, the expression on his face held the intoxicating challenge that only truly confident flirts could get away with. It intrigued her enough to hold this particular glance a moment longer than the preceding one.
Click. Glance. Hold.
Both pairs of eyes were finally focused in unison. Words were silently being passed between the sea of desks, so many that only they could even begin to decipher the hidden messages traveling through two pairs of eyes.
His head leans on his desk, face turned sideways on his arm--still looking toward her. Her head balances on her fisted hand, purposefully supporting her chin. Eyes still looking toward him.
Click. Glance. Think.
This unison look has no silent words, but instead silent thoughts. She is thinking of how inviting and effortlessly charming his eyes and boyish face seem, lying there looking back at her so innocently. He is thinking of all her features at once, taking them all in and vaguely trying to focus on a favorite.
Click. Glance. Break.
This click is different in that it does not bring their eyes together, but instead abruptly breaks their focus.
Pause. Pause. Focus.
Clicks cease as attention is momentarily shifted to their professor's echoing voice.
Click. Focus. Click.
His hand raises, eyes focus on the professor and in his waiting for participation, creates a series of clicks on the front of his backwards baseball cap.
Click. Speak. Click.
He describes a metaphor on page fifty two. Something involving monkeys. This makes her smile slightly, faking interest in the text.
That's all I've got. Dunno if I'm gonna do more with it or not. However, since I wrote it the glances have increased, as has the talking and interesting situations I get myself into. I am going to make a great high school teacher, because if nothing else, I will forever understand fascinations with relationships and the opposite sex.