TWENTY
“Ihad a long call for work when I was about to leave, and by the time I finished, I realised you were already clocking out. So, I just waited for a couple of minutes to see how you’re doing.”
My insides turn as a wave of foreign excitement courses through me.
What is happening?
In a weak attempt to ignore my body, I exhale those sensations, breathing once before answering, “Professor Adell—”
“Arthur,” he cuts me off. “Call me Arthur.”
“I-it’s hard. You’re my professor.” My words come out weak as I try to remind him—and myself—and the reality we find ourselves in.
There’s a solid, thick barrier around what a student and teacher relationship should be. And it’s clear it should never be disrespected.
“Calling me Arthur isn’t wrong. I am extra strict on a daily basis because—and I don’t mean this in a smug way—it’s very common to have students flirt or try to have something with me. Drawing that line from the beginning is imperative.”
“I understand.” He is a handsome man. I reckon it would be frustrating after a while.
“And now that I know you’re not going to disrespect those boundaries, I can relax with a student for the first time in…years.”
“I’m glad, then.” I smile, and he returns it.
It’s awkward but at the same time, peaceful. We’ve found common ground. One where he doesn’t hate my guts, and I’m not constantly in fear of his next move. It almost seems like instead of just tolerating my presence, he enjoys it… like friends.
I resist the urge to laugh at the irony. Friends with my professor? Professor Prick out of all of them? Who would have thought?
It’s weird. Too weird.
“I—” Stammering, not knowing what to say, I decide on a silent departure. My body moves on its own accord, stepping away from the car so I can start looking for the keys to unlock it.
This is too much and too confusing. It’s also late, and I need to get going.
Except, my bag falls to the floor, and just when I am about to crouch down to pick it up, a firm hold on my arm startles me. I jump at the same time my heart does, almost escaping through my mouth.
My brain fogs, too, as the darkest part of it opens unwanted memories.
“Shit,” I whisper-yell, clutching at the knot in my chest.
“Sorry,” he hastily says, walking closer and stopping when I take a step away.
Rationally, I know I’m not in danger. There are a few cameras in the parking lot, and he’s my professor. He has looked out for Dylan, too. I am ninety per cent sure he wouldn’t hurt me, but…ever since that night, there will always be a part of me that is permanently alert. The constant flight or fight mode is exhausting, but there’s no turning it off. Not anymore.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
When my heart rate finally slows down and I will myself to open my eyes, Professor Adell is looking at me with a deep frown and concern shadowing his face.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I—” Professor Adell stutters.
“It’s fine,” I cut him off with a weak smile. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
He bends down and picks up my bag, giving it to me right away.
“Are you alright?” Professor Adell’s voice brings me back to the real world.
“Yes, um, just a little tired. Today was a full day.” I smile at him. “But um, did you need something from me?”
“I—” He stutters again. “You looked tired during work. I wanted to check in on you, to see if you needed something.”
“That’s kind of you, Professor A—” His sudden glare has me hesitating, and I correct myself. “Arthur. Thank you, but you didn’t have to wait for me. It’s already late.”
“It’s fine. How’s school? Besides my subject, of course.” He scratches the back of his neck. “With Dylan and work, I bet it can be overwhelming sometimes. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright, and if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
What? Why?
Is it still the guilt? I don’t get it...
“Pro—Arthur, just because you weren’t nice in the beginning, doesn’t mean you should feel obliged to be nice all the time. I can manage on my own.”
“That’s no—” He stops himself and takes a deep breath. “That’s not why I am checking in on you. I just...” He trails off, not finishing what he was about to say.
“You what?” I press, confused.
“I just worry.” He blurts out, stunning me.
He worries. He…worries?
My mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.
“It’s just…” he continues after another deep breath. “Look, I feel like you need a friend,” he states, shocking me even more. “Hell, I need a friend, too, and I...I don’t know! You’re the first person I’ve felt comfortable with in years.”
“What?”
“Yep.” He nods, assuring me—or himself? I don’t know anymore. “Friends.”
The déjà vu hits me unannounced. Late at night and alone with him, with the word friends ringing in my ears, it certainly takes me back in time.
“Come on. We’re friends, Lo,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s meant to be.”
Bile rises in my throat as the memory invades my brain. Not again. I don’t need or want male attention. I just…oh god, I can’t do this. I have to find a way to go, to leave.
“You’re my professor.” That’s all I can say. “This isn’t...I’m not…”
“No, no, no!” he defends, fear consuming his expression. “That’s not what I meant, Willow. I meant it in a platonic way. I just…” His humourless laugh stops his words. “Look, I don’t know what I am doing, really. I was completely wrong about you from the beginning and ever since I met Dylan…I feel comfortable, like you’re trustworthy, and I liked getting to know you a little more. That’s all—” Another sigh. “It’s nothing beyond regular friendship, I swear!” He puts his palms up, the universal sign of surrender.
The clarification calms me down a bit. But just slightly.
“I don’t know if we should,” I whisper. “It’s still wrong. It still goes beyond what a student and teacher should be.”
I see his shoulders sag and dejection overcome his features. My mouth opens but before words can come out, he speaks, “It’s fine. I understand, Miss Hanlon. Just let me know if I can help with something, I’d be happy to help out.”
The cold type of stare he used to give me, in the beginning, is back, and it makes me shrink back into myself. Guilt stabs into my skin like those nagging splinters you can’t get rid of. What if he is telling the truth and all he wants is an innocent friendship? It wouldn’t be wrong.
Still, the whiplash from how quickly he changes from nice and warm to cold and detached is real. It confuses the hell out of me, more often than not leaving me lost on how to act around him.
“Y-yes. Thank you.” God, it feels like I am back to my teenage years of stuttering around like a goddamn fool.
“Good.” He nods before continuing, “I’m sorry for taking up your time, you must be exhausted. Go rest. I’ll see you in class, Miss Hanlon.”
With a curt nod, he turns on his heels and disappears into the night, leaving me dumbfounded next to my car.
Oh god, what am I doing?
This man is my professor for goodness’ sake. I shouldn’t be feeding into these walks and talks and whatnot. The fact I enjoy his company and attention only makes it worse, it makes me feel guilty and disgusting.
Unlocking my car, I get in with a trembling hand, immediately locking it once I’m inside. While the statistics claim the country isn’t that dangerous, my brain tells me otherwise. In my experience, everywhere is dangerous for a woman.
I surely, know that.
After ten minutes of driving, I get home and eagerly get in a hot shower, one I wish could wash away the exhaustion, stress, and most of what happened tonight. Arthur seemed full of good intentions, but it doesn’t mean the memories weren’t there, trying to come back in full force to remind me of the constant dangers that exist out there.
I’ve worked so hard to overcome these fears and to make my peace with the past, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. Every time they come back, they hit me like a train. And here, alone in the safety of my shower, I allow myself to let it all out. A few sobs come out but the sound of the water running swallows any noise I make.
I don’t know how long I stay here, but by the time I get a grip on my emotions, my fingers are wrinkled. Getting out, I dry myself and dress in my pyjamas before taking a peek in Dylan’s room.
He’s lying on his stomach on the bed with his arms and legs spread wide, snoring lightly. He’s too cute and too important to me. He’s my anchor. Without thinking twice, I enter the room and pick him up. He stirs a little but sleeps the whole way from his bedroom to mine, on the other end of the corridor.
When we get to my bed, I place him carefully on it and get under the sheets, pulling him to my chest and cuddling with him. He immediately latches himself onto me, like it’s natural. Relief reaches me, and my body relaxes into the mattress. In no time, slumber takes over, and I dive into a deep sense of calmness.
He’s my calm. My calm in the middle of the storm.