✺ K A T E ' S ✺ P O V ✺
To: h.styles@uchicago.edu
From: Kate Stevenson
Professor Styles-
Thanks for the heads up. I'll place the notebook in my bag in a few moments. I hope all can be resolved from this small spat between us. I truly do value the information you will teach in your class.
Sincerely,
Kate
-
The following morning when I enter class, I'm proudly carrying my spiral notebook in my arms. I feel almost giddy to be rubbing it in Mr. Styles face that I remembered the simple thing that was such a big deal yesterday afternoon.
As soon as I step into his room, he's siting as his desk, observing the students piling in. The second I step through the door he seems to be intrigued by staring at me. I give him a polite nod and subtly tap my finger on the back of the notebook, which earns another one of his famous close-lipped clearly-amused smirks.
As he teaches throughout the lecture, we make split-second eye contact every now and then. I alternate between taking notes on my computer and adding thoughts to my journal entry that he said he'll begin assigning us every morning at the beginning of class. He continues giving lessons about the topic of our journal entry and says that the point of the assignment is for us to write down our initial thoughts, then for him to analyze the things we cross out and restate once we've got another point of view on the topic. I find myself slightly intrigued despite my previous hatred for this major and for this class.
When we've got fifteen minutes left in the class period, he dismisses us to have a few minutes of free time to finish up our thoughts. Most students leave but I stick around and write out the rest of what I'm thinking on the already messy page of the journal.
A soft ding interrupts the sound of my music in my headphones and I'm drawn away from writing to look at me email. A message from Mr. Styles has popped up on the screen and when I look up at him in confusion, he sits stoic with his eyes glued to the screen of his own computer.
-
To: Kate Stevenson
From: h.styles@uchicago.edu
Ms. Stevenson-
I'm glad to see you're finding so much use in the notebook. If only you had known ahead of time to bring it maybe you could have enjoyed yesterday's assignment as well. Don't worry about it for the grade. I think you made it up to me yesterday afternoon with our conversation.
Professor Styles
P.S. Do you always speak to your authority figures with so much attitude? I analyzed it in my head all evening and wondered if I should have been more offended or not.
-
I read the email slowly and look through the words twice over, wondering if it's a joke. I figured yesterday when he emailed me it was to spite the fact that I had gotten off from the punishment easily. I didn't think it would turn into an ongoing personal message between us with him admitting he thought about talking to me even after he left school.
I type out a response anyways, choosing to play into his little game. If anything- we'll form a love hate relationship and I'll pass his class because he respects me for constantly speaking my mind, even though he likes to refer to himself as an authority figure.
-
To: h.styles@uchicago.edu
From: Kate Stevenson
Mr. Styles-
Please forgive me for my amount of attitude. I find there's a fine line between authority figures correcting someone on a mistake and talking down to them just because they can. I choose to not be a victim of that, no matter what your initial intentions were.
P.S. Feel free to call me Kate.
-
I smile as I press send on the email, then conceal it seconds later when I hear the all too familiar ding of his computer. When I glance up at him I find he's looking at me, but I can't read his expression. He only stares for a moment before going back to typing effortlessly on his computer.
Moments later, I receive an email in response.
-
To: Kate Stevenson
From: h.styles@uchicago.edu
Kate-
I appreciate you having the ability to stick up for yourself. Some of these professors are - for lack of better terminology- pricks.
Although please be aware that that smart mouth could get you in trouble.
Warmly,
Professor Styles (we can get to the personal names some other day)
P.S. Get to your next class before you're tardy
-
As my eyes scan over the last part of the email, I seem to snap out of my trance. I look up and notice all of the desks around me are empty. My cheeks immediately turn pink thinking that I lost track of time emailing back and forth with my professor.
Without thinking too much of it, I gather my things and walk towards the front of the room. I lay the page ripped out of my journal on Mr. Styles desk and attempt not to look at him, even though it proves to be an extremely difficult task.
Just as I reach the heavy doors and begin to step out, his voice stops me.
"Kate," he says my name with such fluidity that I wonder if it will ever sound the same again coming from someone else's mouth.
"Yes, sir?" I answer back, using my sweetest voice. I turn to look at him and notice the look in his eyes is far from the one he had yesterday when he was lecturing me and throwing around the idea that I was an inconsiderate student wasting my time in his class.
"Nice work today. It seems as though remembering that journal did you some good." He offers me a polite nod after speaking, and I find myself unsure of how to respond. I only return the nod as a silent thanks and we exchange smiles before I leave the classroom.
✺
The remainder of my classes pass by slowly. I feel as though by the time I make it home I'm going to pass out. Lena is in our room when I arrive and I feel more thankful than ever to see her.
"Anything interesting happening in any of your classes?" She asks later that night over a fine meal of chips and salsa on our cheap coffee table. The dorm furniture is a joke in quality, but we make it work.
"No, not really." I mumble back. I crunch my chip and consider the idea that Lena has been here a full two years longer than I have.
"Have you heard of Professor Styles?" I ask randomly once she's done ranting to me about some student in one of her classes that constantly tries to correct their teacher but is always wrong.
"I've heard of him, I'm not sure who he is though." She answers in between bites. "Why are you asking?"
"Just wondering. He gave me the third degree yesterday over forgetting my notebook and I just wanted to know if you had heard anything about him being an asshole." My answer is somewhat truthful and doesn't even phase Lena. I really just wanted to know more about this man that seems to be grabbing my attention so effortlessly through a few friendly emails.
"Yeah, he sounds like a jerk. I haven't heard anything though, sorry." She shrugs again and I nod, choosing to enjoy the rest of my dinner without him on my mind.
By the time Lena and I are curled up in our own beds and watching a movie on the flat screen that we split the cost of over the summer, I've decided I can't continue ignoring my pestering thoughts.
My computer is pulled from my bag and my email is opened before I can second guess myself. I scroll through the useless messages from online stores and meaningless reminders from other teachers, but I don't find anything new from Mr. Styles.
Am I really that disappointed? He was probably just using me to entertain himself for the day. I don't see what else we would even have to talk about.
I decide to turn off all of my electronics for the night and get some rest. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I'll be stuck in this situation this year.
✺
The following morning when I get to class, Mr. Styles isn't there. It reminds me of the first day and I retreat to my desk by the window to wait patiently for the lesson to begin.
When he does eventually come through the door, it's ten minutes after the bell has rang. No one mentions his tardiness and he gives us a mindless journal entry to write instead of standing and giving us a lesson as he did yesterday.
By the time the class comes to an end, I feel hopeless for continuing our silly email conversation. He sat on his computer the entire period and I pathetically found myself refreshing my email every ten minutes, hoping for something new to pop up.
As I'm walking past his desk, I consider stopping to say something, but I refrain. It's silly of me to think something of a few emails with a professor. I'm just pathetically in need of a friend and probably was willing to jump on the first opportunity while he thought nothing more of it than emailing a student.
Lena and I end up catching up on campus in between classes for lunch. We chat mindlessly about assignments and students that have done something absurd, then part ways later with her telling me she won't be home later that night.
When I do get back to the dorm, I spend a while working on homework and reading different assignments thoroughly. It's pushing six PM by the time I'm finished and I'm suddenly wishing I had more than one roommate to keep my occupied.
Instead of sitting around for the rest of the evening and sinking further into my comfortable bed, I get dressed and head out the door. The Chicago air is chilly on my body as I walk down the busy streets, but I find it refreshing after three days of nothing but sleeping and going back and forth to classes.
I arrive at a small diner down the street from the school campus. I've gone a few times with Lena, but never found it necessary to spend the money if I was eating alone. Tonight is different. I need to do something with myself before I go crazy.
The restaurant doesn't seem too busy when I step inside. I'm seated immediately and order a cup of coffee with cream and sugar to sip on while waiting for the waitress to come back for my food order. In the meantime, I pull out my laptop and open a word document for an essay I have due in a few days.
As soon as I log onto my personal account, an instant message pops up on the screen from an unknown user. My brows furrow as I click to enlarge it, and my heart feels as though it nearly stops when I read over it.
From Blocked:
You can run, but you can't hide, Kate. I will find you.
I feel as though my heart may beat out of my chest by the time I've deleted the message. It was probably reckless of me to do so incase I needed the evidence to give to my parol officer, but I couldn't stand the sight of it.
It's been three months. Why now?
"Kate?" A voice asks from above me, making my head snap up worriedly. I'm already being paranoid and it's only been a few minutes. I can't imagine what going to sleep tonight or any night will be after this.
When I finally manage to calm down enough to look up at the person above me, my heart nearly stops for a second time.
"Hi, Professor Styles." I answer back shyly. I wonder if he can tell I just had a momentary panic attack.
"Is everything alright? You look like you've just seen a ghost." He asks with a chuckle. He's holding a cup of coffee in his hands and dressed much more casually than he usually is for class. I try my hardest to keep my eyes off of him clad in some tight jeans and a simple t-shirt.
"Yeah, um, a friend of mine sent me one of those trick videos where something pops out at you in the middle of it. I guess it scared me more than I thought." My laugh is stiff and awkward and I pray he doesn't notice.
"Ah, I see." He seems to believe me enough to not question my lie. I exhale with relief afterwards.
"Anyways, I was just on my way out and stopping by to say hello. Have a good rest of your night." He offers me a friendly smile that manages to occupy my brain elsewhere besides the threat I received a few minutes ago.
"You too. I'll see you in class tomorrow." I nod back at him and glance down at my cup of coffee as his shoes pass my table.
"Oh, sir, you forgot your coat!" My waitresses voice calls out, causing me to look up again just as she passes the jacket off to Professor Styles. He thanks her quietly and slips it on over his shoulders. He notices me staring and offers a quick wave before turning and walking out the door. I shamelessly check him out as he leaves, but something besides his fit body catches my eye.
His wallet laying on the ground.
I look around as if it's some sort of prank that I'm falling for, but everyone seems to be going about their meals and not paying attention to me. Without thinking twice, I stand from my seat and pace over to pick up the worn out leather wallet from the ground. I return to my seat without anyone noticing my strange actions.
After minutes of contemplating my options, the nosey part of my brain wins the war I've been wagering internally. I open the leather wallet and only peak inside for a moment before shutting it again. Just a glance to make sure there's nothing important isn't wrong, right?
Who am I kidding. I can't let it sit untouched all night.
I feel silly as I open it once again and look inside. An Illinois driver's license sits on the inside which I immediately grab for to look at. I feel creepy, but am curious.
Harry Edward Styles
The H in his email must stand for Harry. I strangely am fond of his name, despite it being quite old English.
As I continue sifting through the slots on the wallet, I come across multiple Visa cards, a gym membership card, a couple of ten dollar bills, and a condom in the back. I feel extra creepy when I pull the condom out and inspect the package curiously. I find it interesting that he keeps one in his wallet as if the occasion may arise when he needs one for emergency. I suppose I should give him the benefit of the doubt, though. Personally I've had a few situations where the male-population-wide-condom-in-the-wallet-rule has saved me from some embarrassing pharmacy trips to purchase a morning after pill. Even though he's a teacher I suppose he's still an average guy.
After placing everything back where I found them, I decide to stick my wallet in my purse and return it to him tomorrow. His address is on his driver's license and I could easily return it to his home, but it may be creepy if he has a wife or a girlfriend wondering his student is returning his wallet. I would somewhat be questioning myself, to be honest.
✺
The next morning comes around much too quickly, but not at what time I expected it. My alarm was silenced on my cellphone and I didn't wake up until after my first two classes, leaving me already at lunch time by the time I'm ready and out the door.
I stop by the student cafe first and grab a salad, knowing all of the good food will be gone by the time I get back. Professor Styles- or Harry's- wallet sits heavily in my purse and reminds me of its presence with every step I take across the grass towards his room.
When I step inside of the large lecture hall, it's empty. I pace slowly across the room and set my things down on one of the desks to wait for him. I assume he's only out grabbing his lunch and will be back soon.
As I pace around the room, I find myself standing behind his desk. No pictures of his family or a significant other are out in the open, which is strange, but comforting. If I'm going to have a strange somewhat friendship with a teacher I don't want a wife or a girlfriend makings things even weirder.
I don't consider it as I sit down in his desk chair and spin around in a half circle. I can't help but smile like a child discovering the trick for the first time.
My moment of immaturity is quickly interrupted by the heavy door of the room opening. Professor Styles steps through with a scowl set on his lips and his body moving quickly towards me.
"Off of my chair. I have work to do." He snaps rudely, catching my attention immediately. I stand up in clear embarrassment and pace back over to my own desk where my things are.
"I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be back so soon." I admit in response. I sit down at my desk and cross my legs in my lap while waiting for him to speak. What even is this? Am I embarrassing myself trying to be his friend?
"You shouldn't have been here at all. Can I help you with something or are you just pestering me?" His voice is rough and his tone is sharp, making goosebumps raise across my skin.
"I, um, I missed your class this morning." My voice comes out pathetically weak. I'm sure he's mentally laughing at me.
"And? That's your loss. You could have easily asked me tomorrow during class and not on my personal time. Now please, Ms. Stevenson, I have work to do if you wouldn't mind leaving me the hell alone." His words are harsh and suddenly remind me of someone that I know very well talking to me in the same way.
The same person who is the entire reason why I'm in this goddamn unfair situation in the first place.
Without considering the consequences of my actions, I stand from my chair and pull his wallet from my bag. It's dropped harshly onto his desk with a loud smack, certain to catch his attention.
"Kate, you better calm down before-"
"Screw you for thinking that you can talk to me like that. I came here to do a good deed and return your wallet that you dropped and you're acting like a complete asshole. I've been talked to enough like that by other people and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you do it too." I grab my things in a hurry and walk out of the room, ignoring the sound of his voice calling my name.
The realization of what I just did doesn't hit me until I'm back in my dorm and knowing in the back of my mind it's too late to fix it all.
✺ ✺ ✺
Authors note: I know this chapter is kind of confusing but it will all come together soon!! (Some things within the next chapter)
Also I graduated yesterday! Yay!
Okay thanks for reading