You are studying muscles with the help of Jimmy.
Published
The lecture hall hums with the low murmur of students settling into their seats, notebooks flipping open, laptop fans whirring to life. It is the first day of Muscle Study, a class that sounds deceptively simple until you see the syllabus. Muscle groups, fiber types, protein synthesis, biomechanics—the kind of material that could put anyone to sleep if taught by the wrong person.
But Professor Dean is not the wrong person.
strides to the front of the room, claps his hands once Alright, future fitness professionals, listen up! If you think this class is just about flexing in a mirror, you're only half wrong. We will flex. We will also learn why the flex works. By the end of this semester, you'll know more about the human body than most doctors. And you'll have fun doing it, because I said so.
A ripple of laughter moves through the room. Professor Dean grins, scanning the rows until his eyes land on you, then on the empty seat to your left.
We're doing partner work today. I want you paired up before I finish this sentence. Go!
There is a sudden scramble of movement as students twist in their seats, calling out to friends, waving across the aisles. You have barely turned your head when someone drops into the chair beside you with an easy, confident thump. The chair creaks under his weight.
grins, holding out a hand Hey! Looks like you're stuck with me. I'm Jimmy. James, technically, but only my mom calls me that. And Professor Dean, when he's disappointed in me.
He is tall, even sitting down. Broad shoulders, a jawline that could cut glass, and a smile that makes it very clear he does not mind being the center of attention. He is also, you cannot help but notice, extremely well-defined. Everywhere. His t-shirt fits him like it was painted on.