A Question on Love

Chapter Four: Denials

The weekend over and back at school, Keyuri tried her best to return to her usual routine. Of course, that endeavor--though laden with good intentions--largely failed. Unspoken tensions between her and Myca left the office with a sense of strain and every person in the office instinctively avoided Dr. Voros at all times, whether he was brooding in his office (door usually shut, even during office hours) or on campus between classes. She may have been his aide, but words spoken between them were only the words absolutely necessary to their work. Even small smiles were rare for Keyuri, as rare as frost on a summer day (though she thought it did feel as if winter had come in the middle of autumn, at least for her).

As there was no subtlety in this change between the two, campus gossip spread like wildfire. Everyone, from loose-lipped faculty to all-too-clever students, spoke about how there must have been some torrid love affair that had soured between her and Myca. She heard that some courageous (and foolish) young people thought it might be a good chance to capitalize on Myca's vulnerability. It was a disaster. Keyuri only hoped Myca's position would be left undisturbed. She may have hated him at the moment, but she still respected him as an academic. He wouldn't do anything foolish, would he?

Lost in her own thoughts, Keyuri did not notice Francisco approach her as she was on her way back to the office after one of her seminars on Kierkegaard. With a soft hand on her arm, he broke her from her reverie and she looked up at him, the man dressed in a dark suit today, with an open expression.

"Dr. Peralta!"

"It's 'Francisco,' cara mea. It's not as if I'm one of your professors, am I?" He flashed her a wide, all-too-knowing smile.

"Oh, ah. I just thought... on campus..."

He stepped a few inches closer, close enough to be scandalous if anyone saw them. With a finger, he tipped her face up to him again.

"Here or anywhere else, you're still mine. Unless you've changed your mind?"

She looked around, trying to gauge how visible or audible the two of them might be to anyone that could spread word of this particular exchange. Students and teachers seemed to be moving to and fro between classes, groups or singularly, caught up in their own routines as they moved about the school campus. It was a stream of people, smiles and laughter and conversations. Music was playing from the courtyard, faintly, flowers still in bloom in the gardens. Maybe she could get away with this, she thought; it wasn't as if Francisco had begun teaching courses yet, right?

"Well... I wanted to talk to you about that, but..."

Raising an eyebrow (he had rather elegant eyebrows, didn't he?), he raised a hand to stop her.

"It's probably best to talk about this somewhere more 'private.' How about dinner tonight?"

"Oh, uh, okay," was all she managed to say, a blush threatening her cheeks. She had the distinct impression that it was indeed, yes, a bad idea. Yet, she could not help but think that she had put herself in this position and she could not just reject Francisco in passing. He had been nothing but a gentleman, after all. He deserved a full explanation, never mind the tingling she felt in her toes whenever he looked at her the way he was now, as if there was nothing more important than her.

"When are you done with your classes? Or do you have work until some time?"

"I usually head home around four-thirty, but any time after three is fine." There, a little more confidence.

"I'll come and get you at four. The Philosophy Department office, yes?"

"Oh, sure..."

"It's a date, then." He smiled, taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips with a tender kiss, the blush finally coming to Keyuri's cheeks as their eyes locked on to one another. She could drown in those honey brown eyes. To hell with Myca, indeed. "See you soon, cara mea."