Walking with long, brisk steps down the path leading back to my office, I checked the time.

I was running late.

I was happy to help a student find her way, as brusque as I might've seemed, but that young woman certainly had found a way to eat into my time. As I darted past the tight knots of students, I found myself wondering just how leading a student to the Arts and Sciences building had managed to take so very long.

She was cute, though, I couldn't help but notice that. Chocolate brown hair, emerald-green eyes, and full pouty lips. I shook my head at this observation; sure, I wasn't too much older than these undergrads, but being a professor made me feel like I was in another world. Still, hard to not notice a beauty like her.

I put these thoughts out of my head as I made my way to my car. Checking the time again, I saw that I was likely to be running late to Darla, my daughter's, dance recital. Frustration welled inside of me as I strode across the parking lot; I promised Darla that I'd be on time for once, and now it was looking as though I was going to break yet another promise. Part of me wanted to yell internally at the student for taking up so much of my time, especially since it was quite clear that she was doing nothing more than making her boyfriend jealous, but I knew that such feelings would be fruitless, and only serve to make me drive more recklessly than I needed to.

Soon, I spotted the familiar form of my coal-black Mercedes. I shook my head, as always, as soon as I laid eyes on it. It was flashier, much flashier than I needed, but after the success of my most recent book, as well as the speaking tour that followed, I managed to get talked into it after popping into a dealership to look around. I preferred to live a more Spartan lifestyle, one free from too much consumerism, but I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't dreamed of owning a Mercedes convertible since I was little. And once I saw how much money I had left over even after I set aside all I needed for Darla's future college fund, I succumbed.

Sliding in and gunning the engine, I left the parking lot and drove down the main road of the town towards the school gymnasium where Darla's recital was taking place. The clock ticked to five, the designated starting time, and each minute that passed after that was like a knife in my gut. I hated disappointing Darla more than anything, but balancing my academic career with being a single father was difficult; every now and then something just had to give.

Soon, I pulled into the parking lot of the school gym, parked, and rushed towards the entrance.

"Name?" asked the frumpy, middle-aged woman standing out front.

"Evan McCall," I said, looking past her to see if I could catch a glimpse of Darla. "I'm Darla's father."

"Oh, welcome," said the woman, searching around on the plastic fold-out table before her for the name tag with my name on it. "Here we are."

She slapped the tag on my chest.

"Please quietly find your seat; the show's already begun."

I couldn't help but notice there was a little judgment to her tone. And to be honest, I felt I deserved a little scolding. Dashing down the hallway leading to the main stage room, I opened one of the big doors with the metal bar on the front, revealing a theater jam-packed full of parents. On stage were a handful of girls, all dressed in colorful outfits. All the eyes nearby latched onto me as soon as I stepped in. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I slid into the nearest open seat, hoping that the hip-hop dance music blasting from the stage would mask my arrival.

Soon, Darla came on stage, dressed in a deep red outfit with tassels draped from the arms. She was flanked by two other girls, each in a matching blue. As soon as the applause died down, the girls went into their routine. I watched with rapt attention, observing with pride my daughter as she danced, tumbled, and soared onstage. My heart welled with pride as I watched her.

Eventually, the hour was up, and the girls all came on stage to thunderous applause. After they took their bows, the parents filed out into the hallway to meet their children.

"Daddy!" said Darla, throwing her arms around me. "I thought you weren't going to show up!"

I winced at these words; I simply hated being the type of parent that left his child wondering if I was going to be there for them when they needed me. It's how my father was, and I swore long ago that I'd never be that way.

"Hey, Dee," I said, calling her by the name I'd called her since she was a baby.

Darla had just turned eight not too long ago, and I couldn't believe how fast the time was passing.

"Did you like the show?" she said, the hallway now filled with the light conversation of parents all congratulating their children.

"It was, without a doubt, the best recital that I've ever seen," I said, still beaming with pride.

She scrunched her face, her dark hair falling around her features.

"You're just saying that."

"I would never ‘just say that'," I said.

And I was serious.

"How come you were late?" she asked, her tone now one of concern.

"Sorry, Dee; I just got hung up at school."

"The same thing as always," she said, disappointment weighing heavily on her words.

"I know, I know," I said. "Hey, you and your friends want to go out to dinner? Maybe some pizza? My treat."

Her face brightened. "Really?"

"Sure," I said. "Least I can do for keeping you waiting."

Without another word she dashed off, getting the attention of a few of her fellow dancers and letting them know of the plan. Soon, a trio of girls in colorful clothing was chattering at my feet, eager for the pizza that I'd promised. The parents arrived to confirm and coordinate.

"You're fine with babysitting four girls during dinner?" asked Melanie Walker, the mother of Annie, Darla closest girlfriend.

"It's no problem," I said. "I'm around undergrads all day; they're all pretty much kids."

Melanie smiled. She was a pretty woman, with short brown hair and a slender figure, a little older than me, and a single mother. I'd considered asking her out before, but between Darla and my work, there was simply no time for dating.

"Well, I'm fine with getting an hour or two off," she said. "You have my number if they start getting too wild."

I thanked her, and soon the girls were piled into my car.

"Can we put the top down, Mister McCall?" asked Emma, one of the girls.

"Don't see why not," I said. "Just no making a break for it."

Soon, we arrived at the pizza place. I ordered a couple of pies along with a few pitchers of soda, the girls chattering amongst themselves as we waited. Darla sat next to me, resting her head on my shoulder, worn out from the recital.

"Dad?" she said, looking up at me with her big blue eyes.

"Yeah, Dee?" I asked.

"I wish Mom could've seen me tonight."

"Me too, kiddo," I said.

The pizzas soon arrived, and thoughts of Rosemary, my former love and Darla's mother, filled my mind. I couldn't think of her without my heart aching as her face came to mind. She had fair skin, red hair, and Darla's blue eyes. We met during our undergrad programs, with her majoring in English Literature as I went on to earn my advanced degrees in archaeology. She became pregnant a year into my masters, and we'd planned on marrying soon after. But when Darla arrived there had been…complications with the birth. One moment she was fine, the next she simply wouldn't stop bleeding. Just like that, she was gone.

I hated the fact that Darla not only didn't have a mother, but she’d had never known hers. So, I did my best to be both parents, but to say that I was burning the candle at both ends would be to put it mildly.

Soon, the dinner was over, and nothing remained in front of us but a pile of pizza crusts sitting on the metal serving trays and a couple of now-empty plastic pitchers.

An hour or so later, the girls were all dropped off and Darla and I were back home. By the time I'd pulled into our garage, she was fast asleep. Between the dancing and the piles of carbs she'd just eaten, she was out like a light. I scooped her up, brought her in, and got her ready for bed. She barely made a peep as I tucked her in. I decided to have a small drink in my study as I went over the lesson plans for tomorrow. It was a new semester, and I was very much looking forward to it.

The next morning I headed to work soon after seeing Darla off. I headed to campus, feeling well-rested and ready to begin what I hoped would be a fruitful semester. I said my hellos to my few department professors as I arrived, and soon I was standing at the front of my 404 class, the students gradually making their way in. I kept an eye on the clock, careful to watch for any student that trickled in after the eight-thirty start time. In my experience, a student who would be late on the first day would likely be one to lag during the rest of the semester. I set aside twelve spots in this course with an eye to pare it down to six or seven, so I was already on the lookout for those who showed signs of not being able to hack it.

And just before the time struck, a familiar face darted into the room, taking a seat two rows back, right in the middle. It took me a moment to recognize the girl, but as soon as a deep blush broke out across her face I knew exactly who it was- it was the girl yesterday, the one who'd put on a ditzy show and caused me to be late to Darla's recital. Part of me wanted to be mad at her, but I knew that such behavior would be unprofessional, to say the least.

In the same manner as yesterday, I couldn't help but be struck by the girl's beauty. Her brown hair was long, parted in the middle and hanging down both sides of her strikingly attractive features. Her eyes were large and green, her nose small and pert, and her red lips were a stark contrast to her fair skin. She was dressed in a simple black blouse and a pair of very tight blue jeans that accentuated the curves of her body. I tried not to stare, but it took some effort- she was simply a beautiful girl.

I decided to turn my attention to my notes in order not to stare at the girl. Soon, the time to start arrived, three students scampering in within a few minutes after eight-thirty.

This is going to be quite the semester, I thought. I can just feel it.