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I sniff loudly, feeling better for sitting down and even though he's just sat down himself, Professor Valentine reaches into his jacket pocket for what looks like a handkerchief.
Forever the gentleman… Just like I thought he would be in real life. I mean, outside the lecture hall that is. Don’t really have any cause to see him otherwise.
Unfortunately.
“Uh… Maybe a tissue is a better idea,” he says, smiling to himself and bringing the handkerchief he has clenched hidden in his palm to his nose as he passes me a box of Kleenex. Letting me know he would never pass a girl his used handkerchief either.
He’s all gentleman alright. They just don't make ‘em like Vincent Valentine anymore, that's for sure.
I blow loudly, reddening once I realize how gross I must sound, but Professor Valentine only seems to breathe in harder, almost groaning to himself before he has to sit down as well.
“I- I feel silly, Professor…” I start to say. Feeling a little more than embarrassed now. Even doubting things just happened the way they did.
“Maybe they just walked into the ladies by mistake-” I start to say out loud, trying to reason that nobody in their right mind would follow me like that.
But Vincent takes my story with deadly seriousness once he calmly coaches me to tell him everything.
Quietly suggesting I lay down on the couch, which I find myself doing without thinking. As if his deep, soothing voice is enough to convince me to do anything now I feel safe.
Feeling like anyone who wants to hurt me is a million miles away the longer I’m in his office.
He must have a sniffle himself, maybe allergies. Because the whole time we’re talking he keeps taking deep breaths from the handkerchief still bundled in his palm. Listening so keenly to my story that he hums low, even growling at times. Asking me to repeat certain words or phrases.
I tell him what happened, then about how I’ve had the feeling of being watched for a few weeks now, “…Around the time I joined your class,” I explain for reference.
A short rapping knock interrupts us, the large glasses and freckled face of Niles. The self-appointed teacher’s pet of the class. Reminding Professor Valentine he’s running late.
But once he sees me and then the look Vincent shoots him, almost snarling that it’s not a good time. I think he gets the message, but I don’t wanna be the one to hold up his whole class.
“I’m fine now, Professor Valentine-,” I chime in over him, sitting up straight again. Professor Valentine’s looking like he’s about to tear strips off of Niles. His dark, brooding eyes shift to mine. The opposite to how he looked when we were alone.
Before we were interrupted, he almost looked…happy. Or the closest to it I've ever seen him.
See, Professor Valentine’s a real academic. Buried in his work and always on the way somewhere and always with a serious face.
Coupled with his size and physique, he makes for a pretty intimidating man when he has you in his sights, whatever the reason. And even though there’s college rumors about his own mental health, as well as his past. I put that down to plain old gossip, nothing more nothing less.
He looks hard at me, almost like he's trying to tell me something with his eyes, but in a moment he’s his regular self again. Serious but mild mannered college Psychology Professor.
“I- I guess you’re right, Violet. But I only want you in class if you feel up to it. You’ve had quite a shock,” he assures me once he waves Niles away and the door’s closed again.
“I was gonna head home, to be honest… Just feel like being on my own for a while.” I murmur so low its almost a whisper. A sudden chill coming over me as I try to imagine myself walking home alone let alone spending any time by myself in that tiny apartment.
Professor Valentine makes another low sound. Kinda disappointment with resignation mixed in, but he’s a professional so his crimped maybe, maybe not a smile with a tiny shrug from his massive shoulders tells me he has to let me make my own decisions.
I’m about to get up leave, willing my body to move. But the thought of turning my back on the man who saved me, makes me feel so safe to be around. As well as maybe some other feelings I might have…
“Well… I guess I’m closer to class than home, so I guess I could-” I start to say.
Vincent’s eyes are already glowing with approval, “That’s my girl.” He says rather formally but with a tone of encouragement.
The words are like warm silk, straight across my belly as it shivers. A warm feeling that tingles my belly button, all the way down between my legs, catching me by surprise with the intensity and sudden need I have to be touched down there.
And not by me. I know in a split second that I’m on dangerous ground. But if I’m honest, I kinda developed a permanent wet spot for Professor Valentine the second I saw him a few weeks ago. I mean, who wouldn’t?
But even thinking for one second that an older man, twice may age… Old enough to be my father would even have the slightest interest in plain old me is pure fantasy.
A secret fantasy I’ve had playing in the background for weeks. The kind I thought every girl must have for at least one of her teachers or Professors. But feeling how I feel when he calls me ‘his girl’. Knowing how I want to reply but never could…
