I sighed. By now we’d reached our lockers and I was desperate to hop in the shower and end this conversation. “There’s nothing much to tell. He’s not old. He’s probably not even thirty.”
“Oh?” her eyes seemed to light up. “Well, that’s different. Is he nice?”
“Seems nice enough.”
“Smart?”
“Very.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah.”
“There it is,” she said triumphantly, retrieving her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. I groaned, leaning my head against the locker door. “No need to act coy. I’m glad to see you can still notice men even if the man in question is your professor.”
“Hey, I didn’t—” I started indignantly.
She waved off my protests. “It’s fine. You haven’t gotten laid in a while. You’re hyper focused on your future. Your professor is hot and you, being a warm-blooded human being underneath all of that, noticed. That’s all there is to it. Enjoy your coffee date.” She paused, then winked. “Sounds like you might’ve actually gotten the better weekend deal anyway.”
I threw my towel at her face and she caught it with a laugh.
*
By the time Saturday came around, I’d already had my outfit picked out, which had helped my nerves during the buildup. Whatdidn’thelp was the fact that the weather decided to betray me at the last minute and plummet the temperature low enough to eliminate the shorts and tank top I’d decided on. So instead, I settled on darkwash jeans and a chunky sweater.
It was a nice enough outfit but even that little detail was almost enough to send me spiraling again. I gave myself one final look-over in the mirror before I headed out. My hair was graciously behaving itself given the humidity we’d been fighting recently.My outfit’s colors worked well with my skin tone. I thought I looked like someone that was worthy of being taken seriously.
But in the startling silence of my dorm room, with Madison and the others already out for the day, I was left with nothing but passing comments ringing in my ears.
Straight-laced June Price. Academic powerhouse. Safe and steady to the point of tedium.
Okay, that last one was a private thought of my own. But I couldn’t help wondering if that was truly how everyone else saw me. Routine and structure worked well in the field I wanted to go into. It’d worked well in getting me to the position I was in right now, maybe even worked in getting me noticed by Professor Blackwell in the first place.
But was this really how I wanted to be remembered? Someone who overthought a damn sweater?
As deep as that rabbithole could’ve gone, I decided to push the question away and grab my bag. I wouldn't want to be late, after all.
The cafe I’d chosen was a little quaint place, maybe a fifteen minute walk away from campus, which gave me enough time to clear out my head. It was quiet enough on a weekend to lend some privacy but not so private that it would be suspicious to catch a professor and their student there together.
Yes, even the possibility of poor assumptions had driven my choice of location. Safe and steady, always.
I took a deep breath as I put my hand on the cafe door and walked in, expecting to be the first to arrive. But Professor Blackwell was already there, seated in a window nook. He looked deep in thought, his head leaned back against the booth while his eyes took in the sidewalk on the other side of the glass.
He was beautiful.
That was the first thing that struck me to the point of stillness. Anyone could see that he was handsome, but there was something about his intellect and credentials that amplified my nerves even more than just his looks.
Here was someone who was basically where I wanted to be, someone who could potentially give me a stepping stone to reach my goals. I wanted nothing more than to make a good impression on him, to make him see just how passionate I was about this field and to prove to him that I deserved the time he’d taken out of his day to see me.
If I messed this up…I squared out my shoulders and forced myself to walk over the cafe threshold.
Professor Blackwell saw me before I got there, standing up in greeting. “I hope you don’t mind that I chose a window seat. I like the view,” he explained as we shook hands and I slid into the spot opposite him.
“No problem. I usually pick this side as well,” I replied.
He nodded. I noticed that he was wearing a white T-shirt and straight-leg jeans, a simple outfit that matched the casual down-to-earth nature of his smile. If I didn’t know any better, I would really think he was just a regular guy and not a brilliant university professor.
“I half expected you to bring a binder with you. At the very least, a book or two,” he said.
