El guapo

This morning I slept through my alarm. Thankfully, it wasn’t an indication of the day I was to have. Upon entering the lecture theatre (for the only lecture I have on Mondays), I saw some people I knew from my linguistics class last semester and we sat together. After some time, a thoroughly beautiful young man walked into the theatre and began handing out course guides.

He resembled someone I had known at uni last year, and for a second I thought it was the guy I knew last year, but then realised that while he could be quite possibly be a twin, he was in fact a different person. He was gorgeous. Ravishing. Stunning. He’s shortish, maybe 5’9”, with tanned skin that has a Mediterranean look to it, grey eyes, and short dark brown hair. He had a decidedly pretty-boy look about him; my gaydar was going off like foghorn. He was introduced by the lecturer as a tutor in the course, along with another guy who, while doubtless equally as valuable as a person, was nowhere near as attractive. It’s just as well he wasn’t giving the lecture—I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He introduced himself to the group, and I was taken by his voice—very deep and very rich—strangely at odds with the pretty-boy look.

If life were a cartoon, little bubbles the shape of hearts would have come out of my ears and floated heavenward, popping lightly a foot or two above my head. So I wonder if I’ll be in his class? I won’t find out whose class I’m in until Thursday week. On the one hand, if he is my teacher I definitely won’t be able to concentrate at all. On the other hand, he’s fucking hot!! This is going to be a long ten days.