You’re POV

I’ve been sending my professor little notes with my assessments, little notes of poem’s and sometimes my dreams. They were also on the very last page on bright pink sticky notes, he couldn’t miss those. I couldn’t help the way he made me feel. I wanted him, I needed him. He was so dreamy to look at, his tucked in polos making his body strain against the fabric. I knew very well every girl in my class drooled over him, but he was mine. They way his eyes would linger on mine that much longer. I saw them go up and down, mine. I’ve spent so long leaving those notes, I got drunk one night and wrote a very very long letter, my fantasy. Feeling a little hangover but bold I added it to my latest assessment, with of course my number. A few days had pass and I figured he’s probably not interested. The text a few seconds later said over wise...

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