The sun was shining on that Saturday morning, clouds dancing in the blue sky. The wind swayed the treetops as I left home wearing light shorts and a t-shirt that showed off my arms, which people said were muscular, but I honestly never cared about that. I grabbed my phone and earphones from my shorts pockets. I turned on the player and stretched while walking along the still-empty sidewalk at eight in the morning.

As usual, I always got lost in thought, nothing out of the ordinary. My mind wandered through the week's events, and I always smiled when I remembered something funny, but then the memory of him took over my mind. My feet moved faster, and I started my run.

At first glance, Professor Marxos would act like any other professor at that university. He was rude and harsh, and for some reason, he suddenly became cordial. I did my research during the week. Professor Marxos Julio Albuquerque only taught calculus at Elite once a week because he also taught at Sigma High. He wasn't married but had been engaged to Angelina Cyrus, though nowadays they were good friends. Marxos had lost his parents and had no living relatives.

Now you might ask: Where on earth did I find so much information about my professor? Google is a great ally—it didn't give me his social security number only because, well, it couldn't, but everything becomes easier when you're a rich man who still has the strange habit of teaching calculus. Who the hell would work while being rich?

But that wasn't the part that bothered me. I was thinking about him more than I should, and that's not good. He's like my professor; he might be handsome, attractive, sexy, but definitely wouldn't be gay. Actually, that's another problem. How do I tell my parents I'm gay? What if I get kicked out of the house?

Well, one problem at a time, and it wasn't in my plans to say anything to my parents so soon, but thinking about the calculus professor in this way could harm me, and I don't want any more problems in my life. So to push away such inappropriate thoughts, I continued running without paying much attention, when I bumped into someone and fell backward, dazed.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm so distracted."

My eyes focused on the figure in front of me. His face had a wide smile, his arms were resting on the ground, making his muscles more evident. He was wearing a black tank top and light running shorts, and his eyes seemed to be shining.

"This seems like a pursuit," he said with a smile as he stood up.

"I'm so sorry, professor," I said, embarrassed, as he extended his hand to help me up.

"You can call me..." As I grabbed his hand, he pulled me, and my body met his sweaty one, his arms wrapped around me, "Marxos."

His hands released me slowly while he still had that smile on his face, and I was completely red as a tomato or worse.

"I don't know what to say..." I finally said, trying to hide the blush on my face.

"It's okay," he said, squeezing my shoulder firmly.

"I didn't know you ran around here..." I tried to change the subject.

"Well, actually I don't, but I moved to an apartment nearby," he said with a smile. "And you, what are you doing in these parts?"

"I live a few blocks from here..."

"Interesting. So, the music is good?"

"Music?" I said, not understanding.

"You were singing a song so enthusiastically that you closed your eyes, and consequently, we fell to the ground," he said, laughing as if that was something cute to see.

No. No. No. He is smiling too much. And I don't like it. My mind sometimes processed information in a way that doesn't match the harsh and cruel reality, because after all, not everything is as it seems, and of course, I was afraid of what might come from it, besides the fact that I was singing loudly. Sure, that's normal for me, but why did he have to be the one to see me singing?

Then a blonde woman who was standing a few steps away from us came in our direction. She was wearing gray leggings and a white tank top; her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce through my body. She was smiling at something I didn't understand.

"Marxos..." she said.

"Ah..." he said, slapping his forehead. "Sorry, Angelina, I..." he looked at me differently, his eyes were shining, and his smile was wider, "was talking to Guilherme."

She extended her hand and smiled, and I greeted her.

"Let's go, or you'll be late," she said, smiling and looking at me and then at him. "Invite him to dinner later."

Red.

He laughed.

"See you tomorrow, Guilherme," he said, hugging me tightly.

After releasing me, he continued running with Angelina by his side, and he turned to look at me every five meters until disappearing around the corner, and I, as always, remained standing there, trying to process what my mind already took for certain.

"Hi, love..." his voice echoed in my mind.

"Damn it, Matheus, give me a warning!" I said, putting my hand on my chest.

He was definitely the last person I wanted to see in the world, let alone on a Saturday morning.