Soraya
Hoisting my bag up a little higher on my shoulder, I walked down the dark-wooded, marble-floored hallway of an imposing building in the center of campus. Making my way up the narrow, creaky stairwell, I found myself on the top floor, where the majority of the doors were closed.
These were the offices of various professors, mostly tenured and I found an eyebrow lifting as I walked down the hall. How had Desmond Devoy managed to score one of these huge, top floor rooms? Coming to the end of the hall, I stopped in front of the corner office and looked at the number, then at the name. Then I noticed a post-it had been stuck in the center of the door.
Temporarily: D. Devoy’s Office. Hours M & W 2-6, or by appt.
Benjamin Torres was the name on the metal placard and I gazed at it, frowning. Why did his name always make me think of Piper?
Letting out a loose breath, I saw the door was open a crack and I knocked, before pushing it open. Inside, it was high-ceilinged, the roof sloping at strange angles and the walls stacked with shelves. All manner of books, intriguing knickknacks, and maps were piled on them. Along the left side, floor to ceiling windows rose and let in the cool, wintry afternoon light.
The room was huge and L-shaped, I realized, with part of it tucked around and behind the front area. Professor Devoy came around the corner at that moment, a book opened in one hand and absently saying, "Hello, yes, how may I–"
I gasped and immediately moved forward. “What happened to you?”
There were spots of blood on the side of his shirt, one that was unbuttoned and untucked. He glanced down at me as I came over, forgetting everything but stopping the bleeding. I’d snapped into Anubis mode and pulled the side of shirt open more.
It revealed a sturdy chest, a long, hard stomach and several serratus muscles popping out, most of which on his right side had been covered in a fresh bandage.
“Are you alright?” I demanded. “Do you need stitches? Do you want me to take a look at it? I’ve seen enough injuries to know if you should go to the hospital… What happened?”
“Ms. Eames,” Professor Devoy said in a gentle voice, tugging his shirt from my grip and giving my wrist a gentle squeeze. A jolt went through me and I stepped back, realizing what I’d done. “I appreciate your concern, but all that happened was a sloppy bandaging job and a few spots of blood that will be eradicated with stain remover. I assure you I’m fine.”
Mortification crashed over me as I realized I’d all but ripped my professor’s shirt off.
I was supposed to be a student! Not a trained Anubis field agent who knew a thing or two about stanching wounds. Was he going to report me?
I put my hands to my flaming cheeks, both infuriated at myself for being so stupid and trying hard not to watch as Professor Devoy buttoned his shirt, waiting for me to say something.
“I-I apologize, I didn’t mean to be untoward, I saw blood and reacted,” I murmured.
“It’s quite alright,” he replied, finishing the last button and I ignored the brief flicker of regret as that exquisite chest was covered. “It’s my fault, honestly. Well, Beni’s,” he amended with a laugh. “Fool came in to help me put on the bandages and must not have closed the door behind him. Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh,” I said inanely, now at a loss with how to recoup this situation.
“What can I help you with?” Professor Devoy asked, all gentleman and professional again in his gentle, disarming way. “You must be a good student – two days in and you already have questions. That’s what I like to see.”
I laughed and brushed my hair back from my face, wondering why I felt flustered. I was never a girl to be tongue-tied around a man. As Balt like to tease me, I was a whirlwind of high heels and heartbreak. A modern woman who knew how to put a man in his place.
But Desmond Devoy wasn’t like the typical boneheads and bros I’d dealt with. Piper and Balt had said he was shy around women, but here, I was on his turf and his student. Kesari had said something about how the students called him Uncle Dez because he was so invested in their success. Even Roy had said how good of a guy he was.
None of them had told me about the open, frank compassion, intelligence, and humor in his face. His enthusiasm or deep, resounding authenticity. How you could tell if you were in trouble, he'd come running. Or his variety of smiles, ones I’d caught myself memorizing.
For a moment, as I stood there, contemplating whether to run or admit why I was there, another, wilder impulse came over me. To tell him who I was and put my head on his shoulder.
To talk about Bear Valley and…
I snapped back to the present and blurted out, “I know Professor Torres is on sabbatical, but I’ve been hired as his graduate assistant for the semester. And to help you, Professor Devoy. I was told by Angie to start today.” I watched his face as he looked at me. “You didn’t know about this.”
“Hold on,” he said with a grimace, pulling out his phone and walking to the window. “Hi, Beni. Yeah, I know I just saw you fifteen minutes ago. Mind telling me about the new office assistant we’re apparently sharing? Uh-huh…” He went quiet. “I don’t… Alright. Thanks.”
Still oddly nervous, I clasped my hands in front of my stomach and waited for him to turn around. I wondered who Professor Torres was that he could have this office, share it with Desmond, be on sabbatical and hire a student. Also, didn’t most people on sabbatical go elsewhere?
Turning back around, Professor Devoy gave me a smile. “Guess we’ll be seeing more of each other, Ms. Eames.”
“Call me Mya,” I said, the name strange on my tongue. “Um, great. Where would you like me to start?”
“Beni won’t be in again till next week, but he left you a list over on that desk.” He pointed at a corner desk, small and ornate, with a pile of books on the side. “I didn’t realize I’d have an assistant, so you’ll forgive me, I don’t have anything at the moment.” He paused. “I’m not sure I will ever have anything for you to do, so perhaps bringing a book or homework when you’re in here might not be a bad idea. Beni likes to bring in a graduate student to help and then forgets to give them anything to do.” He chuckled dryly. “I speak from experience.”
That explained it. “You were a student of Professor Torres’s?” I asked as I dropped my bag down, shrugged out of my jacket and read the list. “Did you go here?”
“For part of my undergrad, yes, but I did several fellowships around the country and globe. My graduate degree is from Leipzig, in Germany. And now, like Beni, I teach around the world. However, unlike Beni, I don’t yet have a tenured position to abuse. Not sure if I want one just yet.”
Leipzig. That’s where Kesari got one of those degrees of hers, I thought to myself.
“Don’t most professors go out of the country when on sabbatical?” I asked.
“Beni is not like most professors,” Professor Devoy replied dryly.
I wanted to ask more. I wanted to know why he went into Biological Anthropology. What had Kesari been like when he'd first met her – just as energetic? More, if that was possible? How had he met Balt again? I couldn't recall. We had so many people in common.
Deep down, I wanted to trust him.
Yet I held back.
I’d taken this job, against SOA protocol, to keep an eye on Desmond Devoy.
I wanted to trust him.
I just didn’t know if I could.