My boisterous voice might as well have been a murmur. The students groaned, but I felt as if I could practically burst out of my skin. Apparently, high school juniors didn’t find this thrilling, but I did. I’d majored in political science, and the thought of a real politician coming to speak to my class was the most exhilarating thing to ever happen in my life.

“Ms. Washburn, can I go to the nurse?”

When I looked at the young lady twirling pink gum around her pointer finger as she stretched it from her lips, looking as bored as could be, I raised my brows in question as she rolled her eyes.

“Are you sick, Veronica?”

She pulled her gum from her finger and put it back in her mouth. “No, but I hate politics.”

The class’s laughter was interrupted by a knock at the door. All eyes went to the open doorway, and Veronica sat up in her seat and said quickly, “Never mind. I feel better.”

I’d never seen him in person, but Senator Drake Prescott was breathtaking. Magazine photos and television definitely didn’t do him justice; in person he was even more impressive. Standing at about six feet tall with an almost military bearing, he had piercing blue-green eyes, impeccably styled brown hair, and a dimple that could make a nun kick the habit. He was imposing in his navy suit, light blue tie, and the obligatory American flag pin on his lapel.

I could barely take my eyes off of him. The man was definitely model worthy.

When I glanced at my class, the girls were staring with wide eyes, giggling or touching up their lip gloss, but the boys just looked bored and unimpressed.

“Ms. Washburn?” The senator’s voice was so deep and rich, it reverberated in my chest and bounced around like a pinball between each of my ribs. “I’m Drake Prescott.” He strode into the classroom and extended his hand, and when I placed mine in his, it seemed small.

I was thankful I’d worn a black dress today that hit just above my knees, and a pair of simple black pumps. Most days I dressed casually, and I rarely wore heels. My coworkers probably noticed that I’d made an extra effort today, but I didn’t care.

“Very pleased to meet you, Senator Prescott.” I cleared my throat, trying to free the lump that formed so I could swallow and be articulate. “Class, this is Senator Prescott, who represents our fine state of Virginia, and Senator, this is my class.” I motioned toward the kids with a hand that trembled slightly, and jerked it back to my side.

“Thank you for having me here today.” He turned to look at the students. “I was going to give a speech about our wonderful country and the sturdy foundation our past leaders have set in place for us. But if it’s okay with Ms. Washburn, I’d rather field questions from you. You’re all young adults and will be voting within the next couple of years. You may not realize it yet, but you’re our country’s future.” He turned toward me. “Will that be okay?”

My tongue slid over my lips, which were now devoid of any moisture, rivaling the Sahara Desert. “Yes. That would be wonderful. Wouldn’t it, class?”

The girls agreed with shining eyes and appreciative murmurs, but the boys fidgeted in their seats.

Senator Prescott flashed his dimple that turned my legs to Jell-O, and nodded before addressing my students, who shifted in their seats. “So, who has a question for me?”

At first, no one raised their hand. Then Marcie, one of my star students, broke the ice.

“Yes, young lady.”

He raised a hand to point to the back of the class. When the other students turned to see who he was talking to, they grumbled, and Marcie’s face reddened.

“Please introduce yourself.”

She stood. “Hi. My name is Marcie Smith. I was wondering what your stance is on gay marriage.”

My heart raced. Marcie’s father was gay, and she had been raised by him and his partner. They were wonderful with her, always present at every parent-teacher conference and very involved with her academic career, but I couldn’t clue the senator in that this was a very personal issue to her. So I just held my breath as some of the students snickered.

Drake’s straight posture commanded authority, and when he spoke, the class silenced and stilled.

“That’s an excellent question, Marcie.” He leaned his long frame against the front of my desk. “The Supreme Court has ruled that states can’t keep same-sex couples from marrying and must recognize their unions. Therefore, it’s legal.”

Marcie looked a little confused but she wasn’t timid, which she proved by her follow-up question. “I wanted to know what your personal stance was. Do you support same-sex marriage?”

“My views may not be popular in the party I’m affiliated with. For lack of better words, they have some very old-fashioned and conservative thoughts regarding same-sex marriage, and whether the issue is truly a federal one. I was raised to believe in the love that two people have for each other regardless of their sexual orientation.”

“Thank you, Senator.” She smiled and slid back into her seat as he asked for the next question.

More students piped up to ask a few general questions, softballs in comparison to the curveball he’d just fielded.

“Have you met the president?” Yes.

“Have you ever been in the Oval Office?” His response was no with an easy chuckle.

The back and forth now had a more relaxed feel, and his responses were quick.

Jasmine raised her hand, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Will you be running for office again?”

“Yes, I’m the incumbent, and would love to keep my seat.” He was confident and his eyes shone with pride, which affected me even more than his good looks.

“Who are you running against?”

I’d never see Jasmine so engaged before. Maybe I should have the senator here more often. The thought made my thighs clench. Then again, maybe that’s not such a great idea.

“The primary is this June, so we’ll see then who my opponent will be.”

Another student raised his hand and stood. “Hi, I’m Robert. Are you a Democrat?”

Drake smiled. “No, Robert. I’m a Republican.”

Mike, who usually spent more time in the principal’s office than my classroom, raised his hand. He pushed to his feet and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his baggy cargo pants.

“Yeah, so, what’s your opinion on weed? I mean, legalizing marijuana.”

He sat down, and some of the other students laughed while he collected a few high-fives from his classmates sitting nearby.

I stepped next to the senator, and a rush of nerves passed through me. “Class, please settle down.”

My worried eyes found calm ones as Drake held up his index finger and gave me a confident nod.

“What’s your name, young man?” His voice boomed over the chatting going on. Some of the kids straightened in their seats just at the sound of it.

“My name is Mike. I don’t want to get busted or nothing.” His hands went up, palms facing us. “I don’t use the stuff. I was just wondering.”

His buddies snickered, and Mike’s lips twitched as he struggled to contain a grin.

“Legalizing marijuana has been a hot topic of late, but it’s not as cut and dry as one may think. There are a lot of factors that contribute to legalizing a Schedule One drug. Other governmental departments, like the DEA, need to be involved. Yes, some states have legalized it, but it wasn’t done overnight. That being said, if all research pointed to a positive effect medicinal cannabis had on certain ailments, and it could be administered and dispensed correctly, I wouldn’t be fully opposed to it.”

Mike and his friends slapped each other’s hands, and the class tittered.

“However,” the senator raised his voice and pinned Mike with a pointed look, “I wouldn’t agree to a law that let you and your buddies buy it to get high. Many think they can’t get addicted to it, but you can. Searching for the next high can lead to stronger narcotics. There are reasons laws are in place. They’re there for your protection.”