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"No Amount of time and space can separate you from the people who are meant to be in your life. They will always come back."
-Uknown
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A throat clears bringing me out of my stupefaction, and I blink repeatedly in an attempt to clear my vision. All of the students turn back to the front of the room as my eyes remain prisoner to Professor Davenport's intense gaze for a moment longer than necessary. I break away first as I look down in utter embarrassment, allowing my long layered bangs to fall in front of my face.
What if he remembers you? Don't be serious, that was nearly nine years ago, you look far different. No, it's totally possible.
Shit.
I stare at my empty notepad pretending to be interested in the blue lines of its blank pages as the heat rises in my face until a hand appears in front of it. I tilt my head up to see a thin long face smiling back at me and I'm momentarily reminded of one of those grass-heads I witnessed my cousin, Abigail, make one summer when we were high school. I blink.
"Here you go," The boy in front of me whispers conspiratorially, holding out my now thoroughly bruised apple.
I tuck my hair back behind my ear again before taking my apple from him, "Thanks." I place the apple in my lap and grip it as if my life depends on its solidity. I cross and uncross my legs unconsciously, well unconsciously until I notice I'm doing it.
"Excuse me, Professor," A hand shoots up towards the front of the room and I recognize the voice as Fai's.
"Yes? Ms.?" he asks, walking in her direction.
"Hathaway, Fai Hathaway. I'm just wondering if we will continue forward with the syllabus set up by Professor Gunther or if you will be sending out a new one?" she asks, placing her hand back on her desk and nearly knocking a book off in the process.
Everyone apparently gets nervous around Professor Davenport.
"Good question Ms. Hathaway. For this week we will continue with the work I'm assuming you've all been studying." Placing his hands in his pockets he eyes the room as some people fidget and squirm in their seats, "But I will be sending out another towards the end of this week."
"Do I have any other questions?" Professor Davenport asks. His gaze falls on me again and I look down once more to avoid it. "Right then, I do believe you all were supposed to begin reading Waverley by Walter Scott, We'll start there."
As everyone begins fumbling through their notes and pulling out their books, Deanne elbows me and I look up to meet her gaze as she whispers, "You're not going to turn out to be one of those psycho chicks are you?"
I shake my head in reassurance, but also to shake myself out of my numb state before turning to my messenger bag. I pull out my copy of Walter Scott's novel that was all but being held together by post-it notes and Deanne chuckles when she sees it causing me to return a smile. I know then with her at-ease personality she's going to become a good friend and sitting in Lecture hall three of the Department of English I find am thankful for it.
~ ~ ~
"I really don't get it," Deanne says after finishing a mouthful of her turkey and avocado sandwich from the Ankara Cafe down Common Wealth Ave. "He's hot and all, but I don't understand why girls go so crazy for him. I mean, you really have no idea what it's going to be like in there now. The mixture of perfumes we will inhale over the next four months could quite possibly be hazardous to our health. Not to mention the amount of cleavage that is bound to show up."
I look up from moving my lemon grass chicken around my plate, "Well hey, at least they will be paying attention right? It's hard to fail when you're trying to look good."
Deanne laughs, "God, I hope so. Otherwise, they are just going to make us look like fools for nothing."
Deanne invited me to lunch after today's lecture. In the past forty-five minutes I'd learned that she's twenty-six, almost twenty-seven years old and has just began her graduate degree after doing her undergrad at a community college back in Tennessee. Daughter to a single mother, a nurse, Deanne also worked full time to save money and pay her way through school. When she saw the impressed look on my face, she had explained that her mother had always encouraged her, but also expected to see a strong work ethic that reflected the passion she had to pursue her dreams. Not to mention, when money is tight, there isn't always an alternative.
After Debating Walter Scott over our food for the last twenty minutes a couple of BU undergrads walked in loudly gossiping about Professor Davenport while they ordered their meals to-go. This led Deanne back to the inevitable what-do-girls-see-in-this-cocky-self-serving-perpetual-man-whore rant. She clearly has issues with this guy. I can understand, more so than most, but...
I looked up from the spoonful of food I was finally about to eat mid stride and lock Deanne in a gaze, "So, if you don't like Professor Davenport, why did you put a pear on his podium?"
She smiles and runs a hand through her straight crimson locks, "I don't hate him. I just think he's a cocky bastard."
I furrow my brow in confusion as she grabs my bruised to hell apple that is sitting on our table to check it out as if it's an ancient artifact before setting it back down.
"Davenport is my Advisor." She finally spills before sighing, "I used to leave a pear on Professor Hanley's podium last semester. Davenport found out and teased the hell out of me. I can't help that I have a crush on the old guy, he's just so handsome in that Pierce Bronsan way. Anyhow, he promised to keep it a secret if I brought him a pear everyday too." Rolling her eyes, "He can be quite arrogant."
Note to self: I may not be into the silver foxes, but apparently others my age are.
Wait...
Just then a look of understanding must have dawned on my face along with another thought I was about to put into words because Deanne quickly spoke up again.
"No, No, It's not like that." Her eyes widen as she drops her sandwich onto her plate. "I am so not into him! Besides, I'm fairly certain he's a closet leptosadist."
Leptosadist? Where's google when you need it?
"Um, okay." I say with a shrug. I finally take a bite of my food and wash it down with water. "So, if he's your Advisor, can you tell me a little bit of what his lessons are going to be like?"
"Yeah, I mean there are arguments the romanticism period lasted from the 19th century until mid-century, but Davenport's specialty is the 19th century. Lately he seems to be focusing more on comparisons of romanticism vs realism though, so there's been more of a focus on late 19th century in his lectures." she says finishing off her chips and taking a sip of her soda.
"Late eighteen hundreds? So, like French Impressionism era?" I ask taking another bite.
She nods enthusiastically, "Yes, are you a fan?"
"Yeah, I'm actually doing a minor in Romantic studies. My main interest is French linguistics, but as a dancer I've always been fascinated by Romanticism vs Impressionism in art and music." I smile up at her somewhat embarrassed. I always feel like a fool discussing academics, it is so far away from "variation" and "pas de deux". Which is my specialty.
"Oh, you're going to really like Davenport's class then. His Knowledge in that area was a massive drawl to the reason I pursued him as an Advisor. Luckily, I didn't know he was such an ass-wad beforehand otherwise I may not have chosen so wisely." She laughs.
I can't help but chuckle too.
"And I'd say it was a pretty wise choice, wouldn't you, Ms. Carpenter?" A deeply irritated voice wafts over to us.
Deanne and I freeze before she turns to her left and I turn to my right to witness Professor Davenport drawing out a chair to sit. His Masculine frame dwarfs the chair as he gracefully folds himself into it, crossing one leg over the other and placing the pear Deanne left on his podium on the empty table atop a napkin. I didn't need a mirror to know I was beet red while Deanne took it all in stride.
"You know better than to sneak up on me. You might hear something you don't want to hear, Davenport." She smiles flirtatiously. He does not look as amused as I think she'd hoped for.
"So it seems," he replies before turning his stunning blue gaze on me.
I find myself hypnotized by his eyes. They are like endless warm oceans from the view of a small, lonely island and I suddenly realize they are somehow vastly different from the way I remember them. He releases me from his gaze and looks down at my apple. I immediately look down at my food and begin pushing it around my plate again.
"I do hope you aren't filling my students heads with a bunch of nonsense though," I can hear the almost-warning in his voice.
Deanne shifts uncomfortably as I look up at her through my lashes, "I'd say she's pretty good at reading people on her own." She pauses before adding, "And so far it seems she's going to get on well in your class." She turns to look directly at him, completely sure of her statement while I feel queasy over it.
"I see," Professor Davenport says as a waitress saunters up to hand him a menu and place a glass of water on his table. At that moment I take the opportunity to level a questioning look on Deanne, whose eyes widen in an oh shit kind of way.
Ice breaker my subconscious barks at me. I clear my throat and tuck a loose curl behind my ear before turning to face the Professor.
"I should probably introduce myself. I'm Ali," I say standing to lean over the table between us and offer a slightly shaking hand, "Ali Anglesey."
Professor Davenport looks up from his menu and gives me a heart stopping smile, "Ms. Anglesey, it's a pleasure." He nods his head as he grasps my small hand in a firm grip.
It seems as though Professor Henry Davenport has no recollection of who I am, but if not from appearance how would he? It's been nearly ten years and on top of that I remember I've changed my name. Which eases some of my anxiety.
When he lets go of my hand I slide back into my chair to internally reveal in joy and also mope in disappointment that he's so oblivious to who I am. Suddenly, all reminisces of hunger have faded entirely.
"Ali is new to BU," Deanne says before I can recover. My head shoots up to face her and I slightly shake my head no. While pulling the hem of my pleated skirt down as if I could make its length grow and swallow me whole. The last thing I want to do is draw more attention to myself.
"She was a ballet dancer with Boston," She smiles at me before turning to Professor Davenport whom I can sense is looking directly at me.
"Well, that's quite impressive Ms. Anglesey." He says encouragingly and I turn to look at him, "How long were you with them?"
"Five years," I say quietly before grabbing my glass of water and quickly taking a sip. "Five and a half actually."
"That's quite a while, what made you decide to come to BU this semester?" He cocks his head to one side curiously.
I pause wondering what to say. Honesty is the best policy, suddenly comes to mind.
"Artistic differences," I state confidently while holding his intense gaze.
He smirks.
He fucking smirked.
"It happens to the best of us." He says simply.
"Most definitely does." I say as I look down and allow my gaze to drift out of focus somewhere on the table. I'm nearly lost to my thoughts when he speaks again.
"Well, I hope you find it welcoming here and that you enjoy your studies." He offers as the waitress comes up to take his order.
"Thank you," I say nodding my head at him once before turning back to Deanne.
As Deanne and I stare at each other I motion towards the window, as if I could just dive right out of it instead of having to walk all the way to the door.
She nods. "Shit, I should probably go work on my proposal," she offers and turns towards the hostess stand, "Can we get our check?" We stand and gather our belongings and I pull thirty dollars out of my Saddleback messenger bag. I promptly hand the waitress the money when she comes over and Deanne looks at me.
"You can pick up the tab next time," I offer, throwing my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my apple. She cocks an eyebrow at me and nods. I check that my turtleneck is properly tucked into my skirt and smooth the pleats, a nervous habit I've had for years.
SO do not want to be that girl with her skirt tucked in her underwear.
"Right, that sounds good." She finally adds pulling on her book bag. We both push in our chairs and I feel the Professor's eyes on us as we begin to leave.
"I'll see you later Davenport." Deanne grins widely.
"Nice to meet you Professor," I say at almost the same time.
His eyes lock with mine for a brief moment before he nods, "Ladies, have a great day." As I begin to pass by his table though, he holds up a hand. I stop and look at him questioningly before he holds up his pear.
"Perhaps you'd like to trade?" He asks motioning to my no longer edible apple.
I look down to my hands and fidget with the apple before a large strong hand lands on top of mine. A small gasp escapes me as I look up to meet his eyes and he pulls the apple out of my hand before placing the firm and fresh pear where the apple had been.
"Try to eat that one before you decide to toss it across a room too," He winks.
He fucking winked.
I blushed a soft scarlet... or quite possibly more like a lobster with a sunburn and whispered my thanks before quickly walking towards the door.
Once we're out onto the street I welcome the cold air that washes over my face. Furiously working to pull myself back together before I make my way over to the Arts & Science building, I turn to look at Deanne who appears to be berating herself the way I often do.
"You okay?" I ask looking at her then back at the door of the cafe.
"Yeah, I should really just learn to keep my thoughts to myself though." She says exasperated.
"I'm sure every thing is fine Deanne. Don't worry." I smile at her reassuringly.
She looks at me and her expression changes. "Yeah, you're probably right."
"What?" I ask curious.
"Lady, he winked at you. That is so not his character." she cocks an eyebrow.
My prior blush had still not recovered when I began feeling the blood rush to my face again. "I'm sure he... he probably just wanted to make me feel better about the situation," I stumble over my words.
In all honesty, I don't know why he did it or what his "character" is like because this Professor Davenport is nothing like the man I used to know with the exception of that wink.
Deanne grins at my obvious embarrassment, "Could be. Just be careful with him. Look, I need to head to the library. Catch you Wednesday?"
Be careful with him? I look down at the podium pear in my hands before looking back to Deanne and nod, "Sounds good. Thanks for everything today Deanne. I really appreciate it."
"No problem, let me know if you need help with anything in Davenport's class. My email address should be linked in the ones he sends you. Fai Hathaway is also a good person to ask, she's a good egg." She says starting off across the street to catch the running man.
I wave and smile, "Sounds good. See you later!"
I turn to begin walking back up Common wealth Ave when I get the feeling I'm being watched. I force myself to turn to look back into the windows of the cafe knowing whose eyes mine will meet. Professor Davenport smiles one of his beautiful smiles once more and I immediately blush and duck my head to begin walking and I feel panic rise in my chest while my libido does somersaults. Traitor I think absentmindedly.
Well, if anything, this semester is bound to be interesting.
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End of Chapter song:
The Giving tree
By Plain White T's