Cassandra . . Have you ever wanted something so bad that it made your body ache? Did the thought of not being able to have it make your skin sizzle? There he was Professor Malcom, standing on the podium, switching the images on the projector, his voice echoing through the lecture hall. I leaned against the desk, my eyes tracing his frame. His broad shoulders led to his narrow waist. His sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins that ran down his hands. I have seen him basically for two years now, failed his class last time so I could continue to see him, I was still considering failing this time. By now, I thought I’d grown accustomed to seeing him, but I hadn't. My heart still thumped when his eyes coincidentally found mine afloat the crowd. I could still barely hear what he was teachi

