Lyric

The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed, a dull counterpoint to the frantic thrumming in my chest. Everyone else was scribbling notes, eyes fixed on the professor’s droning voice or the stark white of the whiteboard. But my world had narrowed to a single point, a gravitational pull I couldn’t resist. It wasn't the professor's lecture on obscure historical figures that held me captive; it was the casual, almost unconscious shift of the woman two rows ahead, directly in my line of sight.Her back was to me, her posture relaxed as she leaned slightly forward. It was the gentle curve of her jeans, the way the fabric stretched and yielded just so, that snagged my attention, pulling it in like a tide. It wasn’t a leer, not by a long shot. It was something more elemental, an involuntary appreciation for a subtle, natural beauty that had nothing to do with overt display and everything to do with quiet presence. My gaze, unbidden, lingered.Then, as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, or perhaps just a playful impulse, she moved. It was a small, almost imperceptible wiggle, a slight shimmy of her hips. The fabric tightened and then relaxed, a fleeting, intimate gesture. A tiny smile played on my lips, a private acknowledgment of the unexpected spark she'd ignited. It felt like a secret shared, even though she couldn't possibly know I was the sole observer of her small rebellion against the lecture's monotony.