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You know that feeling when you're a teenager and you get into a fight with your mom over something really stupid? You are completely aware that whatever you did was wrong, and therefore should have apologized, but your big ass pride wouldn't let you. Then, this huge party comes up. A party you have been expecting since you were born, those in which you knew your crush was going to be at or some other ridiculous fact. Anyways, it was The party, big time, huge opportunity. And of course your mom happened to be incredibly mad at you, maybe she had even grounded you. Bad case scenario.
So, there you were. Knocking on your mother's bedroom door with your tail between your legs, hoping for forgiveness, thinking about how stupid you are because you did something you could've avoided doing.
Well, that's exactly how I feel right now. Except this time I would rather be apologizing to my mother because I wanted to go to a party than going to Vennberg's office.
I had repeated my speech over a hundred times now. It was seven o'clock in the morning, my classes were going to start in more than an hour from now. Instead of being asleep or having breakfast in my apartment, you could find me wandering through the halls of the university's offices. I lost track of how many times I had walked up and down the hall.
I finally made my mind up and re-composed myself, feeling a sudden wave of confidence that was crushed as soon as I reached the professor's office door. I rose my shaky hand and knocked three times.
I could still get out of this. I could run for my life and he would never know it was me on the other side of the door. Vennberg said 'come in' in a low, yet scary and powerful voice.
I kept telling myself that it wasn't too late to back off until I twisted the door knob to open the door.
There's no turning back now.
I stepped in his office to find a very Vennberg-like styled workplace. He had two bookshelves on each side of the room, a few pictures hanging from the wall behind him and his desk. No personal items. Everything was perfectly tidy and clean. Just as I pictured it would be.
I finally looked up to him. Only to receive a smirk. He was smiling at me in a sarcastic way. Just as if he knew I would come. As if he had been expecting me to.
He then focused back on his work. I had to grab my skirt to keep my hands from shaking. I was extremely nervous, and the fact that he was wearing glasses that made him look extra edible wasn't helping.
He wasn't paying attention to me at all. He was simply reading some papers which I assume should be essays or exams.
"Do you need anything?" He broke our silence with his overly confident tone, without looking at me.
"I need to talk to you," among other things.
"We have nothing to talk about. You are no longer my student." He said with finality and then kept working on his freaking papers. I, on the other hand, was really trying here.
"Please?" I pleaded while staring at him. His expression was unreadable. I couldn't figure out what he was thinking even if I had super powers.
He stared at me for a split second and then sighed, gesturing me to sit on the empty chair opposite him. I quickly walked to the chair and sat down. He still wasn't looking at me so I decided to talk before he kicked me out of his office too.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior, it was a mistake. I know I shouldn't have spoken, I should've just limited myself to hear and observe your class. I just-" I stopped for a second, thinking about how embarrassing I must be looking, suddenly forgetting every single word I had planned to say. "I just really needed to answer that question." Ladies and gentleman, Amalia Knox giving an award worthy of speech right here.
Vennberg stared at me blankly for some time, I took those seconds to see him. There weren't many opportunities where I could actually study his facial expressions closely.
He looked tired, small bags under his eyes indicated that he wasn't having enough sleep. His once perfect hair was now messy from pulling it. He must be stressed, if rumors were true and he was still working at the hospital part time, he should be having some hard time at work.
I noticed that despite his tidy bookshelves and office in general, the papers on his desk were scattered, as if he had thrown them in strain.
These were things you could only appreciate if you happened to be at a short distance from him.
"I know. Even when I told you not to talk, you still needed to stand out in the middle of such an incompetent class... I'm familiar with that feeling, but you're still out." He uttered weary.
I looked at him with regret. I didn't want him to think of me that way.
"I didn't intend to stand out or feel superior in any aspect. I just couldn't resist the fact that no one was able to answer such an obvious question." It seemed that the longer I talked, the chances of getting back into the program got more and more minimized.
He smiled in response. My heart twirled.
"Obvious?" He asked teasingly.
"I'm only asking for another chance. I promise I won't ever talk again in class. I will sit at the back of the room, you won't even know I'm there."
"How much do you want this?" He asked in a low tone, this time leaning over the desk so he was closer to me. My heart skipped a beat and I found it hard to breathe.
"On a scale of one to ten?" I was willing to beg at this point. "Eleven." I answered in a barely audible voice. He stared at me for what felt like ages. I felt myself getting lost in his eyes. There was no point in denying how attracted I felt towards him.
"Fine, then." He caught me off guard. He had agreed? I was about to thank him when he spoke again, this time he had a smirk on his face. This wasn't good.
"You can come back, as long as you complete my prerequisite," he asseverated, a smirk still plastered on his face. My pulse began to rise, my palms were already sweating. I couldn't even think of the possible 'prerequisites' he could ask from me before he proceeded.
"You see," he said, standing up, walking towards me around his desk, finally sitting on it, right beside me. Our bodies were considerably close. My arm was touching his leg. I stiffened.
"The case I talked about in class, I assume you remember it," he paused and noticed I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Our proximity was something way more eye catching than his classes. He kept talking anyway "Right?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He must know the effect he had on me.
"Yes." It came out more like a whisper. I stared at him, taking in his features, again. He was just so handsome. My eyes found his jaw, he looked like he had shaved a couple days ago.
"Well, the case is real." He reached out to grab a big folder and then handed it to me. I opened it to find brain scans. The patient's scans. I took it out and ascended my arm so the lightbulb in the ceiling could help me have a greater look.
"Butterfly tumor located in the frontal lobe, just as you said in class," I muttered.
"Exactly." I was becoming more relaxed. I always did when it came to medicine. Although I couldn't help but feel confused. Why was he telling me all this?
Vennberg's stare burned into my face. He was examining me. "I don't understand," I paused to hand him the scans back. "Why are you showing me this? I mean, why is this supposed to concern me in any way?"
He then smirked again. I assumed I had asked exactly what he wanted me to. "I'm operating on this patient. Today." He uttered calmly. "And you are going to help me."
I almost choked on my own saliva. Why did he always have to be like this? Messing with my nervous system. He seemed to enjoy it.
"But, I have no experience in hospitals whatsoever, let alone in operating rooms. How am I going to help you?"
"You seemed quite comfortable in the ER when I first met you, so you won't have to worry about further complications, will you now?" He didn't get an answer. I wasn't sure if I should thank him for letting me step into an OR or hate him because somehow I know he was doing this on purpose. And he didn't seem to have the best of intentions.
"This of course won't be easy for you," he said, coming closer to me, our faces only inches apart. "If the patient's surgery is a success, you can return to the program." I could've swore he looked at my lips for only a brief second. "If she dies, you're out." My lips parted. "For good."