Back to Willow (Back Series Book 1)

TWO

“Nana, you’re up already?” I ask over the phone after parking close to the college.

“Yes, dear, but you should have woken me up before leaving,” she scolds.

I can’t help but chuckle at her antics. Nana is one strong-minded and resilient woman.

“Nonsense,” I answer. “You were tired from that long walk in the park yesterday. I wanted to let you rest.”

“Well, thank you, but next time, wake me up so I can help you.”

Stubborn, too.

“Fine, fine!” A smile finds its way to my lips. “Classes are about to start. I just wanted to check in on you. Don’t worry because I’ll finish up in time to pick Dylan up and help you with dinner before work. Is that alright with you?”

I already found a job here, too, as a waitress in one of the diners downtown. They are flexible with schedules since they are used to hiring students. It couldn’t have worked better because it’s close to where I have my classes.

“Sure, dear. I’ll keep myself busy and do some groceries while you’re in school. Break a leg, little bird. You’ll do great!”

“Thank you, Nana. Love you,” I say goodbye to her, smiling to myself.

She really is the best.

Leaving the car parked, I walk up to the huge beige building where I’ll have most of my classes. We’re only now reaching mid-September, and it’s still warm outside. The sky is clear, and the sun’s light shines bright on the dark-granite stone constructions, making the city look lighter than usual.

Porto is a beautiful place but a little melancholic. On a cloudy day, the darker aspect of the buildings quickly transfers to people’s moods. Nostalgia is the one that gets to me the most. Saudade of a time when everything was simpler.

Because back then, that was exactly what I was. Happy, carefree, and loved. A time when no worries existed. Before I was forced to grow up. I miss those times—deeply—and that’s what brings Saudade to my mind. It’s that deep void that your heart carries when someone or something is missing, and I’ll forever carry that.

It’d be a lie to say I’m not nervous to start college, especially since I’m not the same age as most freshmen here. It may not be too visible physically, but there is a calmness I’ve developed that the bulk of eighteen-year-olds hasn’t yet.

Inside, a lot of them stride excitedly through the corridors, talking animatedly. The adrenaline of the first day of school pumping through their veins. Whereas, to me, there’s just a silent eagerness to be here.

That sense of achievement has finally come. Back then, I might have been as happy and anxious, walking around in more youthful clothing, too, and I wouldn’t be here alone either. But that never happened…

Oh god, how can I still miss him after all of these years?

The building is packed with unfamiliar faces that pay little to no attention to me, and I sigh in relief at that. Turns out college is nothing like high school, and I am grateful for that. I was never a popular girl, but I was best friends with the golden boy. I was able to see the consequences that attention brings without being at the centre of it.

I spent my days in his shadow, being tolerated and acknowledged just because of him, even though I didn’t mind it—as long as he kept holding my hand through everything, I wouldn’t mind. Being in love with him was the best thing in my life after Dylan.

Since I’ve already visited the college grounds before, I’ve got all the documents and information needed. A member of the Student Council, a girl graduating this year, has already shown me around and answered all my questions and addressed my doubts.

After navigating the long halls and up the staircases, I finally find the first class of today: Portuguese.

In this degree, we not only have to relearn the grammar side in a way that’ll make us understand how to teach it but also the literature part of it. I’m unbelievably excited about all of it.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a biologist, but Dylan opened my eyes to my true calling. It was like a lightbulb switched in my brain when I realised the joy I had and still have when teaching him. I fell in love—at least, in the only way I still can.

Helping kids and giving them—as much as I can—the right tools to use in their adulthood fills what’s left of my heart.

When I reach the classroom, I am met with plain white walls and a brown wooden floor. On one half of the room, tables and chairs are lined up, while just one single desk sits on the opposite side in front of a whiteboard and a projector.

I notice a few seats still available, so I head to the vacant ones around the middle area. Within a few minutes, the room slowly fills up as more students arrive and sit down.

I’ve got my head in my notepad when a girl stops at the seat right next to mine. “Hey, is this seat taken?”

“Oh, no. Go ahead.” I encourage her with a smile.

“Are you a freshman?”

“I’m Willow. And yes.” I chuckle. “I’m a freshman, and you?”

“Oh god, yes. Can’t you tell? I’m so nervous.” She giggles too, and it makes me smile in response. “Aren”t you?”

“I guess I should be? But oddly enough, I’m not.” She’s taking her notebook out of her bag, so I take a moment to glance at her.

Dark chocolate locks frame her tanned face, and plump red lips compliment her flawless makeup. She is gorgeous, that’s for sure. While I am much smaller and on the thinner side, this girl is all long legs and toned muscles.

People often tell me I look frail and ill, even though I’m not. It seems like raising a toddler, working, and being busy preparing everything to study took a toll on me. I wonder what adjective they’ll add when my exams start…

“So, are you from here?”

Her question pulls my attention back to her. “Em, no. I come from the south, a town called évora. Do you know it?”

“Yes,” she exclaims. “My grandmother is from there. I used to spend a lot of my summers there growing up.”

I am not from évora. Though, it has been my home ever since I was sixteen.

“How come we’ve never met?” she asks.

“Uhm, I didn’t go out much because I…I have been working full time for a few years now.” I stumble a little on my words, not overly keen on disclosing my life story just yet.

I may have grown stronger throughout the years in some regards, but I’ll still avoid confrontation like the devil runs away from the cross. He was the strong one in that department. He wasn’t afraid to tell someone—no matter who it was—to fuck off. Unfortunately for my pathetic personality, conflict is still one of the few things that makes me anxious. Panic attacks are no longer as frequent, but they do still come out once in a while.

“Work?” Her eyebrows furrow. “For how long have you been working? I mean, your whole stance is so mature, but you seem so young!” Her ability to be invasive in an innocent way is really sweet.

“I am twenty two,” I answer. “I know it’s kind of late to start college, but life got in the way, and I had to postpone.” When the silence stretches, I add, “I made it, though.”

“Hell yes, girl,” she exclaims with a pump of her fist. “That’s what women are made of; we persevere and never give up!” she hollers a little too loud at the same time the professor enters the classroom. I don’t look around, but I bet everyone is glaring at us.

“Shhh!” someone hisses from behind us.

I can’t help but turn around to the thick-glasses framed face and smile guiltily. Her face is twisted in an annoyed glare, her greyish eyes throwing darts at me with sleek but dark makeup, giving her big round eyes a smoky and cat-like aesthetic. Her straight hair is jet black, completely matching the hues of her clothing—the only exception being the greyish jeans. She is intimidating.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

Next to her sits a guy. He is the complete opposite, with dark brown hair and honey-coloured eyes. Loose and light blue jeans, topped with an oversized T-shirt and a tiny hoop earring. He is leaning back with a relaxed stance and a smirk gracing his lips. He’s cute and charming, to an extent.

“It’s fine, Willow.” He smiles back, earning an elbow from the girl right next to him.

My cheeks burn from the embarrassment. So, they just heard our entire conversation.

“I’m Ethan, and this is my cousin, Hazel.”

“Nice meeting you guys.” The brunette on my side greets them, too, loudly once again.

I wince, feeling all eyes on us. My body automatically turns back around to the front, and I am met with the most menacing glare from the professor. But his glare quickly changes into an expression of surprise. It doesn’t last long because he shakes his head, willing back a neutral expression.

I have to admit, he’s made an impression on me. He is daunting—domineering, even. And young. It may sound pretentious, but I was expecting a much older and less attractive person in his place. It might be good, though, to have a teacher who is easy on the eyes.

“Good to know that this year’s students are so much more invested in this class,” he mentions before turning back to his desk, where he starts to settle himself. If sarcasm was visible, I’d see it dripping from his mouth and down his chin. The embarrassment has me sinking further down in my chair.

That tongue is as sharp as his jaw, that’s for sure.

“Damn, girl. That man is hot as fuck,” she whispers too loudly, with her breath close to my face and her brown locks brushing my shoulder.

“Shhh.” I try to shut her up, but he still looks up at us with a cocked eyebrow, and all I can do is blush, madly.

Oh god, I hope he doesn’t start to pick on me. I was a real nerd in high school. If this is the kind of professor that puts you aside, no matter the effort you make, I might be screwed.

“Very well,” he starts after clearing his throat. “Good morning. I am Professor Adell, and I’ll be your teacher for the semester. Not Mr Adell, nor my name if you end up finding it out. Especially not Sir or Mr.”

His eyes sweep the classroom once more, lingering on me.

Why is he lingering on me?

“You can only call me Professor Adell—it’ll save you and me a lot of trouble. Believe me.”

A light murmur echoes throughout the room, and by my side, she snickers, “Damn, that’s one bitter man.”

“Now,” he speaks again. “I know this course is directed mostly to basic education, but you will have plenty of preparation for your teaching techniques in another subject, so after consulting with the other lecturers, I’ll be focusing on what the regular Portuguese subject should be. That means we’ll focus on literature instead.”

I hear loud groans across the classroom, making me giggle quietly. I am glad since I used to love the literature side of the subject back then.

“I will pass a few sheets with the books I expect you to read and write a report about. Delivery dates are also on the sheets as well as the guidelines you should follow. In class, we will discuss five books—which are not on that list. I expect you to read those, too, and come to class with your comments about them. Your participation will make up thirty percent of your grades.”

Everyone groans loudly—again—while I happily scribble notes about what the professor’s saying. Reading those books won’t be a problem. Not only do I like to read, but I also make it a habit to read to Dylan as often as I can for him to fall asleep. He quickly became fond of this habit, so much so that we ended up running out of books for him at home.

He has started asking me to read him my books, claiming he is grown up enough to listen to them. It’s funny because while he is awake, he keeps interrupting me to know the meaning of words or about situations he doesn’t quite understand. It’s adorable!

A nudge to my ribs snaps me out of my thoughts. When I notice my surroundings, it’s entirely quiet, and a few faces are looking at me, the professor included.

“Have you finally come back to us, Ms…” Professor Adell asks sarcastically.

“Hanlon,” I finish for him. “I zoned out for a moment, yes. I am sorry, everyone.” I smile apologetically.

My gaze travels back to the seats behind me for just a quick second, but all I see is Ethan’s encouraging megawatt smile, followed by a quick nod. When I look back to the front, Professor Adell’s expression is somber. “Well, Ms, if you prefer to daydream instead of paying attention to class, you can see yourself out. There’s no point in being here.”

I gasp at his rudeness, and for a moment, I feel the need to lash back at him. Sure, I just spent like five minutes scribbling with a smile on my face, thinking about my kid, but there’s no need to overreact in this way. However, his taunting attitude won’t make me lower mine to his level. I won’t snap back.

That is not who I am.

“Of course, Professor Adell.” I grit my teeth.

I am not one to believe in first impressions, but he certainly left a negative one on me. How can someone so beautiful seem to be so ugly on the inside?

Stealing a glance at him, our eyes lock. His gaze is intense and intimidating, making me look away. His jaw clenches when I do, the discomfort in his stance matching mine. After a long minute in silence, he clears his throat and continues, jumping straight into work.

The task is to write a page worth of information about one of our favourite books and hand it over by the end of class. Once I get to work, time flies by. I get so immersed in writing about The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde that when I look at the clock, I notice how I only have five minutes left.

Once the clock hits eleven, marking the end of class, Professor Adell clears his throat and salutes everyone goodbye. Everyone stands, handing over the paper before leaving class. I am one of the last ones and when I get to his desk, I barely place the sheet on the table when he talks.

“I hope it doesn’t happen again, Miss Hanlon. I’d hate to think my class is filled with spoiled brats.”

Fighting the urge to react to his offensive statement, I answer, “Looks can be deceiving, sir; I certainly was hoodwinked at first. But rest assured because it won’t happen again. Never again.” Turning away before he can respond, I rush out of the classroom.

Outside, warm air hits me but does nothing to help my burning cheeks. I’m probably blushing like crazy as the adrenaline of answering him back slowly wears off. I don’t know what got into me to answer him like that. I mean, he’s a professor; he can very well make it his mission to fail me.

Damn, what have I done?

“Girl…” the girl who had been sitting by my side–who hasn’t given me a name yet—tsks me when she gets outside. “I have never seen eyes burn with such fire like our professor’s after your reply.”

“Oh god. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I don’t snap back or anything like that. At all,” I stress.

Ethan and Hazel appear by my other side. Her lips are tight, and her face blank, but Ethan chuckles, probably having heard everything—once again—and says, “Well, sometimes, there are people out there that bring a side of us that is usually buried deep, deep down.”

His voice is slightly low and raspy, and his eyes glint with mischief, locking me in a brief trance. For a second, it’s like I’m hypnotised, but I quickly snap out of it.

“No chance,” I say with determination. “I don’t want a war with him. He’s the one calling the shots inside the classroom, and I can’t afford to fail, or my scholarship is gone.”

Oh god, now I’m stressed.

“Come on, then. I think some coffee and food will do you good to destress.” The intimidating brunette laughs at my nervousness.

“I feel like I should know your name before we take the next level in our relationship,” I joke lightly.

She chuckles and adds, “Friendship, you mean.” Then with a mega smile, she answers, “I’m Johanna!”

“Nice to meet you, Johanna!” I nod with my own honest smile before following the three of them to the café for a well-deserved break.