“How did he do it? Tell me everything.”
“Well.” She beamed as she looked over at me. “Last week we drove up to Maine for a few nights and rented a cozy cottage on Lake Arrowhead. We both wanted to relax and prepare ourselves for the upcoming semester.”
I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. While I didn’t go on a getaway, I spent most of my free time during my break taking day trips to shoot photos. Photography was a way for me to show how I viewed the world, to capture a moment and relive it over and over. To bask in the beauty of a sunset or the way the sun made the snow glisten at just the right angle. Taking pictures was truly my passion, and I loved that I could teach it, as well as make a living working as a photojournalist.
“We took an hour drive to Fort Williams Park to see the lighthouse. He somehow got us an exclusive tour and at the top, he dropped to one knee and asked me to be his wife.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks. What about you? How was your break?” She took a sip of her coffee.
“It was good. Stayed busy withThe Huband covered the Celtics games.” I shot more than basketball, but not in the winter months. Hockey was my favorite sport, but ever since Jonah passed away, I couldn’t bear to attend or watch a Bruins game and had asked someone else to cover them. I missed going, though, and had friends who played—guys Jonah had introduced me to—but it was still raw and the thought of not seeing him on the ice hurt.
Charlotte and I walked into Miller Hall and made our way to the department where our offices were located.
“Congrats again,” I said to her as I came to my door.
“Thanks. Expect an invitation soon. We’re having an engagement party in a few weeks.”
I smiled warmly. “Can’t wait.”
Opening the door, I walked inside and noticed my aide sitting at her desk. “Good morning, Isabelle. How was your break?” I set my bags down on my desk.
Isabelle was a graduate student and I’d met her briefly the last day of the previous semester since she was going to be my TA. “It was great, Professor Foster. How was yours?”
“Went by too fast.”
“Tell me about it. I overslept and haven’t had any coffee yet.”
I slid my wallet out of the back pocket of my slacks and handed her a twenty. “Why don’t you get us both a cup before class starts?”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I need another one to get me through today’s agenda.”
The first day of class was always exhausting since I had to give an intro on myself, what the course would entail, how to turn in their assignments, and make sure they had DSLR cameras to use. If they didn’t, the school would provide them with one.
I longed for the days when photography wasn’t computerized, back when instead of a digital single-lens reflex camera, it was a single lens that used 35mm film. Both of my parents were into photography and had met while working atThe Hub Tribune, which my great-great-grandfather started in 1872. My parents now owned and ran the business and, since I practically had a camera in my hand from birth, I had spent many hours in the dark room at the news agency. I missed going into the red-hued room, smelling the pungent metallic odor, and using an enlarger to transpose my image from film to photo paper. Developing film took more technique, but learning how to frame the right shot would never change, and that was the first thing I taught my students.
Isabelle left, and I checked my email and prepared for class. Once she returned, she handed me my cup of joe and after taking a sip, I said, “If you can just count the number of students we have, that should be fine for attendance. I’ll know if people attend based on the weekly quizzes I give at the start of class.”
“Sure thing. Not a problem.”
We both made our way to the classroom, sipping our coffees, hoping for a little more energy. I kicked myself for not getting the extra half hour of sleep I’d missed out on this morning. But just like all the other mornings when I’d woken up sweat-coated and rattled over the last three years, I would make it through.
A few students were already in their seats when I strolled in and set my stuff down on the table at the front of the room. As I was unpacking my camera, a few more people entered and I glanced up, only to meet the stare of the friendship bracelet guy from Chrome.
The room seemed to sway slightly as our eyes locked and his smile fell from his face. His steps faltered and the person he had walked in with nudged his shoulder. Our gaze broke and his attention turned back to the other student. His friend pointed to where he wanted to sit and the pair made their way to an open table with two seats.
My pulse raced as I tried to comprehend what was happening. The man from Thursday night was my student? Was it the facial hair he sported that made him seem older because I would have never pegged him as being in college? Or was it because we’d met in a club a good distance away from campus that I never assumed I would run into someone who went to Hawkins University? Whatever the reason, I knew I’d be fucked if anyone from HU found out. It didn’t matter that our hookup had happened before the semester started. The fact was, he was my student, and I’d been intimate with him.
Fuck.
Trying to calm my nerves, I chugged the last of my beverage, only to realize that coffee wouldn’t do it. I needed alcohol, but that would have to wait. The class was two and a half hours long and, since it was the first day of the semester, my office hours were scheduled to start right after class to answer any questions students had.
I felt Friendship Bracelet Guy’s eyes on me as I prepared to start class, and I realized now he knew my name. Not wanting to flat-out ask him for his and only his, I went to where Isabelle sat in the back of the class and asked, “Can you make a seating chart for today and get everyone’s name?” She blinked. It was the exact opposite of what I’d told her before leaving my office, but I had to know his name and couldn’t wait a few weeks until I learned it based on a photo he took. Given I’d caught Isabelle off guard, I joked, “I changed my mind because I’m getting older and my memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be. Having a seating chart will help.”
“Will they be required to stay in those seats all semester?” she inquired.
