Chapter 3

Ian

 

 

With a coffee in one hand and my book under my arm, I dug in my pocket for the key to my domain. I stopped when I noticed the door to the classroom was already open a crack. It was then I remembered the dean had told me the assistant would have a key in case I had to miss class for any reason. The dean made it very clear that class was never canceled. Either I showed up, or the assistant did.

I pushed the door open with my foot and froze when I saw her sitting at her desk. It wasn’t in the corner. She had apparently moved it closer to mine. I felt violated. She was too close. My heart started beating fast, and I could feel the anxiety threatening to take over. I fought back the need to shove the desk back into its original place.

As soon as she left, I would move it. She would get the hint then. This was my space. My things were in the desk. Having her so close felt like an invasion. It had been far too long since I’d shared a space with someone and I had no intention of starting again now. She had to go.

She looked up and smiled. “Hi,” she said, in a tone a little too cheery for me.

I nodded in response before putting the book down on my desk that was far more organized than it was when I’d left it yesterday. She had not only moved closer to my desk; she had been all over it, touching and sorting. Taking a sip of the hot, black coffee, and staring at the neat stacks of paper, I studied the situation. Each stack had a post-it on top, indicating what it was.

She had been busy. I was impressed.

“You’re early,” I said, not sure what else to say.

Small talk felt weird, and I was woefully out of practice. Talking to strangers felt awkward, and I generally didn’t know what to say. For so long, every conversation I had ended up being about my dead wife or my precious little girl. I didn’t have any friends, besides my brother Jake. I never went out, and never put myself in a position that required me actual interaction with others. I had become a recluse, and the longer I maintained my social exile, the easier it became.

When she smiled at me again, something stirred deep within. It felt strange—foreign. Her blue eyes twinkled and squinted a bit, commensurate with the size of her smile. She smiled with her eyes, as well as that beautiful mouth. I took a brief second to appreciate the young woman who was there to make me a better teacher. She was very pretty. I imagine she had a steady stream of men lining up to date her.

“I am early. I always try to be, plus I still feel terrible for yesterday,” she said, drawing my attention back to her face. My eyes had drifted south. She was wearing a tiny black t-shirt, with a deep V in the front. From my standing view, I managed to catch a glimpse of cleavage, as well as a bright pink bra. It had been a long time since I’d seen one of those.

“Thank you,” I muttered, trying to remember what I was thanking her for. She was looking at me strangely, and I realized she had probably caught me looking down her shirt like a twelve-year-old boy.

She stood, pulled the shirt down to cover the exposed ribbon of tanned skin revealed by the snug shirt that had ridden up her slender torso. Her waist was tiny, which was more evident in the low-rise jeans she was wearing. That odd stirring kicked up a notch, nearly putting me into a trance.

“I have this week’s lesson plans here,” she said, pointing to the neat stacks of paper. “If this system works for you, I’ll come in early on Mondays and get you all set up for the week.”

“That looks great. It will be very helpful,” I said.

There was an awkward silence as we stood there, looking at the papers, and then at each other. I wasn’t sure what to say.

Jennie, my self-proclaimed favorite student, walked up to the assistant. “Hi, I’m Jennie. If you ever need a hand, please let me know. I have way too much time on my hands.” She grinned.

My assistant smiled and nodded. “Hi, Jennie. I think we’re good for now, but I’ll definitely let you know if we need anything.”

Jennie beamed and headed for her seat. I held back a laugh as the assistant looked at me, brows raised, asking the silent question, ‘What the hell was that?’

I shrugged my shoulders in response. She was on her own.

Busying myself with the stack of papers with the ‘Tuesday’ post-it, I felt ridiculous. Anything to keep me from looking at her. I could smell her now, a combination that was fruity and maybe vanilla—something sweet. It smelled delicious, like a tasty treat you would snatch up at a bakery. I wondered if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

The thought felt like a slap across the face. What the hell was I thinking? It had been a long time since my mind had gone there. My libido had been dormant for so long I thought I would never have sex again. Now, after one look at my young assistant, my body and mind seemed to be shaking off the dust and pulling the cobwebs away. This was wrong on so many levels.

After giving myself another mental shake, I shifted my thoughts to the lecture I was about to deliver. I checked my watch, looked around the classroom and saw all but a few seats were full. I decided to get started. I shut the door, glanced over at the woman who was wreaking havoc on me and then at the paper in my hands.

Focus!

A switch flipped in my brain, and suddenly all of my attention went to the ocean. This first week would be slow, but I had to cover the basics of marine science before we could get into the meat and potatoes of the introductory class.

Once again, class flew by. I found myself falling into old routines and habits. I loved talking about marine life. It was a subject I could talk about for weeks. Once the class was over and the students gone, I looked around the empty classroom, making sure no one had left anything behind. I knew it wasn’t my responsibility to pick up after them, but it was something I had always done. It was a courtesy, one my students typically appreciated.

“You’re still here?” I asked from the back of the room, noticing the assistant still seated.

She nodded. “Yeah, just for a minute. I want to finish this up real quick.”

Walking towards her, I was curious as to what she was doing. I hadn’t asked for anything. 

When I reached her desk, I could see she was making notes on a yellow pad. It looked like math—calculus maybe. I watched her write, her head was tilted slightly to the side, and her long blonde hair had fallen over a cheek. She must have felt me watching and looked up to question me with her eyes.

“What’s up?” she asked, in a casual way, putting her pen down and pushing her hair behind one of her perfectly sculpted ears.

I looked pointedly at the paper. “Calculus?”

She quickly shoved the yellow pad of paper in her backpack, “I’m sorry. I promise I was paying attention to you as well. I figured I could work on this while you lectured. I won’t do it anymore if you don’t want me to. Is there something you needed?” she asked. 

“No. I was, uh, I, uh, class is over,” I managed to get out. I felt like an idiot and knew I sounded like one. She managed to get me tongue twisted every time.

“Yes, I know,” she said, giving me an odd look. “I just wanted to finish those while I was in math mode,” she joked.

I didn’t smile. Instead, I just stared. She busied herself by stuffing her things in her backpack. I debated over saying something—anything, but didn’t know what it would be.

I stepped away and took a seat at my desk, waiting for her to leave. I was ready to be alone. An hour in a classroom filled with people was enough for me. I needed time to mentally prepare for the next round of students. I was still reintegrating into society, and needed it in bite-size bits.

A few years ago, I would have gone for a run to release the anxiety. If I tried to do that now, I would probably drop dread dead from a heart attack. My therapist had told me I had PTSD. No, I hadn’t been to war or actually witnessed anything horrible, but the sudden death of my child and wife apparently qualified.

“I know you don’t have another class for an hour; would you like to grab a cup of coffee?” she asked, standing at the corner of my desk.

The invitation startled me. People didn’t ask me to get coffee. I was so used to people bringing me casseroles and what I had learned to refer to as sympathy food, a real invitation took me by surprise.

“What?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get some coffee?” she asked again, this time a little hesitant.

“No, uh, thanks,” I said, cutting her off. “I need to go over some things before my next class.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nodded, but didn’t look at her.

She paused at the door. “Did you need me to bring you anything back? Sandwich? Soda? Maybe a bottle of water?”

“No,” I blurted out, not wanting her to come back.

“Okay, then,” she mumbled under her breath, holding her hands up in surrender.

She spun around and walked out the door. I watched as she left, mesmerized by the view of her ass. I was reclusive—not dead. I still knew a beautiful woman when I saw one.

Once she left, I walked to the door, closed and locked it, relishing the silence. Alone, again. It was what I was used to. My classroom doubled as my office. If I stuck around another semester or maybe a year, I would probably get an office, but for now, this was it. It was where I could find a little peace and quiet on a campus that was always buzzing. Students were everywhere. I was constantly bumping shoulders or exposed to some serious public displays of affection. It was too much.

A thought occurred to me, and I pulled out my schedule, checking to see if the girl was in all of my classes. What was her name? Tess? Yes, Tess. Would she be in all nine of my classes or was it a select few? The calendar showed she would be in one class a day, except two on Tuesdays. So she would be back in an hour. I was a little bummed she wouldn’t be in every class but should have known better. She was a student. She had a full class load herself and couldn’t possibly be that available.

I took a deep breath before calling Jake.

“Did you quit already?” my brother answered.

“No, but I need help,” I blurted out.

Jake suddenly got serious. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m completely lacking in social skills. You have to teach me how you talk to anybody and everybody you meet,” I begged Jake.

Jake laughed. “It’s about time you asked. You’ve always been a bit socially awkward. I’ll help you man. We’ll get you all fixed up,” he joked.

“Good. I have to go. My next class starts soon. Later,” I said, feeling better already. Jake was a smooth-talking lawyer who could charm anyone. He would have some excellent tips.

If I was going to be back in the land of the living, I needed to act like it. I would accept her invitation if she asked again, like after the next class. I would ask her about the weather or what her major was. Things that normal people chatted about when they were standing in line to get their favorite coffee. I could be normal. It had once been very easy for me. I was just a little rusty, but I was sure that natural charm and the ability to talk to others was a genetic trait. I used to have it. It couldn’t be completely lost.