Carolyn scurried to the back of the class, earning a half-puzzled and half-annoyed look from Madame Waters. Although the portly yet energetic French teacher hadn't started speaking, she expected punctuality from all of her students. 

Since neither of us had arrived late once in three years, we didn't receive a swift detention. Still, only one seat remained. 

At the front of the class.

Next to...Morpheus?

Everyone else belonged to the junior class like me, but this guy had never crossed my path. The only dude in French III. He resembled Dream, also known as Morpheus, from The Sandman comics by Neil Gaiman. Until I figured out his name, I decided that would be his moniker.

Well over six feet tall, Morpheus sat slumped in the metal chair, extending his spindly limbs well into my path. He sat up straight after I'd arrived, pulling his legs back. When I hurried past him with a shy smile, he cast me a glance.

Murmuring an apology under my breath to Madame Waters, I sank down into my chair with burning cheeks. She gave me a stern look but didn't reprimand me. 

Determined to show her that she hadn't made a mistake by accepting me into the new class, I opened up my notebooks and diligently followed the lesson.

"Quatre?" she asked, prompting the class to answer number four. Morpheus raised his hand. "Oui, Eric."

So, his name was Eric. Oooh, I like that name. It kinda suits him.

"Il faut que je sois à la gare avant midi," he said, his deep baritone making me blush even more. This time not with embarrassment. I have to go to the train station before noon.

"Sois, oui. Avec un S ou un T?" she asked.

He paused, unsure, and cast me another glance.

"Avec un S," I whispered under my breath to him.

"Merci, Jess!" said Madame Waters, giving me a stern glare.

My cheeks reddened as I whispered, "Pardon, madame."

After some more instruction on the torturous subjunctive voice, we received handouts so that we could practice in pairs. Because Carolyn sat on the other side of the room, I couldn't work with her this time. Everyone except Eric had already joined their partners. 

I was too shy to ask if I could work with him. After all, it was my first day and I didn't know him. Besides, he was a senior.

So I knuckled down and began working on my own.

"Est-ce que tu veux travailler avec moi?" asked Eric in a deep whisper beside me. Do you want to work with me?

My head shot up as I turned to him, surprised.

Hardly anyone spoke French during class except to the teacher. Care and I would, of course. But I'd long since given up on the idea that anyone else would follow suit, no matter how often Madame Waters had asked us to try.

Eric had taken her recommendation seriously, though, and tried to speak French whenever he could. Even if he didn't speak it perfectly. I liked that. The fact that he wanted to take the risk.

Gutsy kid.

"Oui, je veux bien," I replied with a smile as I pushed my desk over to his. Sure, I'd like that.

On closer inspection Eric looked kinda gangly like Jack Skellington in Nightmare before Christmas. A cute mop of raven-black spikes. His deep-set black eyes came from the world of shadow. He wore large, dark-rimmed frames set against almost grayish skin, the kind of pale that came from rarely venturing out into the sun.

Nah, Morpheus wasn't much of a stretch. My favorite comic book character had—at least physically—come to life before my eyes.

My heart performed a kind of hooble-de-flip for which Olympic judges gave gold medals. Meanwhile, Eric focused on his notes.

Aww, he's kinda cute.

Stop staring, Jess. Ya weirdo.

I turned my attention to the worksheet, working out the answers.

"You're new," he said, continuing the conversation in French. "Are you a transfer student?"

"Nope, I've been here since Freshman year," I replied. "I took an entrance test to skip French II."

He gaped at me. "A whole year? Why?"

My cheeks burned crimson. "So that I could be with the rest of my class."

"I'm very confused right now," admitted Eric. "Perhaps my French isn't good."

"They told me I couldn't take two languages freshman year," I said. "Later I learned that wasn't true. But I was a year behind in French. So I learned it all and took a test."

"Seriously?" he asked, astonished.

"French II is all about memorizing irregular verbs," I replied. "So I took three nights and did it."

"Just like that?"

"In my defense, I'd already learned Spanish II."

His eyes widened. "You're learning three languages?"

"Nope, just the two."

"What about Ancient Greek?" he asked. "Don't all honors students have to take it?"

I shook my head. "I didn't enter high school as an honors student."

His lips parted in surprise.

"Couldn't face Ancient Greek," I added, "so I went into level one and transferred up later."

"Clever," he said. "So you got honors credit and avoided the nonsense."

"Yep!"

He hummed in thought, pressing the tip of his pen against his lips. "Smart girl."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." Eric shook his head. "Let's get to work."

In no time at all we finished the worksheet. At first Eric struggled with the French subjunctive, but once I'd explained it to him like a formula, he began to understand.

After a gentle nudge in the right direction, Eric could finish the exercises without many mistakes. Just a missing accent here and there. Once he pointed out a spelling mistake of mine too.

Clearly the guy had brains.

"What's your name?" he asked me. "I'm Eric Stevens."

"Jess Perez." I smiled at him and he blushed. "I'm curious. Why are you in French III and not French IV? If you don't mind me asking."

"Unlike you I didn't find a way to get out of Ancient Greek," he replied. "So I began French in sophomore year instead of study hall. Never considered skipping a year. I'm a senior now."

"It's better to do it the right way."

He nodded. "I'm into math and science, so I struggle with French as it is."

"What do you take? Calculus?"

"Calculus II," he whispered under his breath. "Extra study. Don't tell anyone, though, or I'll be the laughingstock of the school."

"Whoa!" I exclaimed under my breath. "Are you for real?"

When our eyes locked, a peculiar warmth spread through my body. I couldn't break his intense stare, my heart fluttering. Something about him made him feel so familiar like a kindred spirit.

Oh, no!

It was the stupid Jack the Jock incident all over again. Only this time my hormones had gone into hyperdrive because of his brain. Which was even worse. Because brains mattered to me.

"Great, another multilingual person." I chuckled, trying to make light of my enthusiasm. "We're a rare breed. Carolyn takes Spanish and French. Don't know anyone else."

"Not sure Ancient Greek counts."

"Of course it does."

His serious mien dissolved into a warm smile that sent my heart into overdrive. Calm down, dumbass! One bridge too far, and it's over.

Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt.

"Settle down, everyone!" said Madame Waters in French. "Let's go over the answers."

This time Eric answered with confidence as a little part of me beamed with pride. Especially when Madame Waters gave me a knowing smile. Even I answered one of the questions in something other than a timid whisper.

Explaining the concepts to my new friend seemed to reinforce my own understanding. It gave me the courage to speak for myself rather than simply helping others. 

I'd found my voice.

When the bell rang, Eric didn't rush out the door like the others. He paused to give me a gentle smile. "Thank you for your help."

"Anytime."

Eric sauntered to his locker with ease and confidence not with arrogance like Jack the Jock. And yet he was so polite. So smart. And just a little bit shy. 

Be still, my heart.

"Thanks for helping Eric today," said Madame Waters once everyone had left.

"No worries. I like tutoring." I scrambled to gather my belongings and ran to catch up with Care. "Au revoir, madame!"

"Au revoir!"

Care gathered her belongings from her locker. "Sooo..." She checked to make sure no one was listening. "Good thing we were late, huh?"

"What?" I feigned ignorance. "Why?"

"Come on! Who's Mr. Dreamy?" she asked in a teasing sing-song, giving me a playful nudge.

"You noticed too?" I pretended to fan myself. "He looks just like—"

"Sandman."

"Actually it's Dream from The Sandman."

"Nerd."

"Touché."

"I bet someone's gonna go home and revisit her comics hidden under her bed," said Care, her eyes twinkling. "Pretending Morpheus is Eeeeric."

"Oh, hush!" I chuckled along with her under my breath. "Who am I kidding? You're right."

"You better chat later and tell me all the details," she demanded.

"Yep, see ya!"

I bounded out the exit and raced down the steps towards my family's gray Toyota Cressida. Most kids got picked up by their moms or friends. Further along the line of cars Grandad Ted waited for me with a pleasant smile and a wave.

To be honest, Ted was my step-Grandad. A tall, gruff Spartan-American with a booming voice and a soft heart. Every day he picked me up without fail, and we'd chat over a burger and chips or some ice cream.

He'd teach me all about science in a way that wasn't boring as hell, and I'd rant about the stupidity of my fellow teenagers. We'd bond over our mutual disdain of my grandmother, who was both wonderful and annoying in equal measure.

Who gave a crap about stupid things like blood? My stepdad's family had shown me more love and concern than any blood relative of mine. Ever since the tender age of nine.

Stupid parents. Who cares about their dumbasses anyway?

Tossing my bag in the car, I gave Grandad a friendly greeting.

"Someone's in a cheerful mood today," he said, surprised. "Anything good happen at school?"

"Love my new French class."

"I'm so proud of you," said Grandad, his dark eyes twinkling. "Celebratory burger and fries at the diner?"

"Heck yeah!" I did a little happy dance in the passenger seat. "Thanks, I'm starving."

"Don't say thank you," he said with a half-smile. "I haven't done it yet."

I chuckled. Our little joke.

"All right, the diner it is." He held up a cautionary forefinger. "No clumsy spills on your shirt this time. And not a word to your grandmother."

I zipped my lips and threw away the key. "Not a word, I promise."

Grandad groaned as we pulled away. "She's killing me."

"Got you on that diet again?"

"Salad for lunch." He frowned. "Unsweetened dried fruit for dessert."

In commiseration I made a barfing sound of disgust.

"Ah, I don't mind. Allows me to have lunch with my favorite granddaughter."

"Hey, I'm your only granddaughter."

Grandad snickered as we pulled up at the roadside diner. Once we had our burgers and chips, we ate them to some soft background music. My favorite track started playing, the Pink Panther theme.

"Tell me about this new French class," he said. "Is it with that teacher you like?"

"Yeah, Madame Waters." I took a giant gulp of Diet Coke. "I tutored one of the kids, and afterward h-she understood everything and gave the right answer to the teacher."

"H-she?" Grandad gave me a pointed look over the rims of his trifocals. The one that made me halt mid-chew. "Is there a new gender I don't know about or are you keeping something?"

I swallowed my mouthful before I fully chewed it. The bolus hurt all the way down, and I guzzled Diet Coke to help it along the way.

"Grandad, promise you won't freak out."

"Freak out?" He scoffed. "I don't freak out. Your grandmother, on the other hand,..."

"Please don't tell her." I folded my hands like in prayer. "He's just a kid who needed help with the French subjunctive."

"The subjunctive, huh?" he asked in a firm tone.

"I swear," I said with a determined nod. "Madame Waters was right there the entire time. She told me that I did a really good job of explaining it to him. You can ask her."

"No, I trust you."

A broad smile swept across my face.

"Well, all right, then." He sighed. "You help your...friend...with his studies during class, and I'll eat cheeseburgers when Carmel isn't looking. Deal?"

"Deal!"

"But no seeing him alone." He held up a stern forefinger. "Got it?"

"Grandad!"

"I mean it," he said, taking another bite of his burger. "Men are pigs."

"You're not a pig."

"That's different."

"Oh, come on!" I scoffed. "When was the last time I wanted to date a guy?"

He paused and nodded. "Fair enough."

I chomped on my fries, taking care not to dribble any ketchup down my front.

"My baby's growing up." Grandad shook his head. "Just make sure you don't do it too fast."

Don't worry. It's not like that.