Bishop
Present Day
Professor Milliken was rambling.
At least that’s what I thought. After hours of practice and cramming for two papers, I knew I needed rest. My mind could go on for another three days, but my body was a different story.
I was tired.
There was no other way around it.
My legs were aching from the drills that Coach Masterson had subjected us to. I’d done them hundreds of times and footwork and agility drills were peanuts, but yesterday I just felt off. Something was missing. I couldn’t pinpoint it and it bothered the hell outta me.
After practice, I’d gone back to my frat house and Rikko, Tau’s Chapter President and all-around good guy, commented, “Brotha, you look like shit and the season hasn’t even started.”
He should know because he was a football player, so I gave him a middle finger salute, but I also agreed with him then proceeded to plant my ass in bed and slept for two hours before I started my all-nighter writing session for the cost design and profitability of high-powered solar equipment in agriculture.
I felt a hand nudge me, “Do you think he’s that cruel?”
Turning around, I came face-to-face with the cute redhead who sat to my left. She was smiling while she whispered, and I wasn’t going to be rude so I shrugged a shoulder, motioning for her to go on.
“It’s only the second meeting, and my friend said that last term he gave them a pop quiz that accounted for five percent of the class.” Her green eyes darted to the front of the class where the professor was writing equations.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” I said with a quiet voice.
Maybe after class I could ask for her number. She’d been giving me the flirty eye and it wouldn’t hurt to become friendly with another classmate.
Some of my friends were in my business classes, but I really didn’t know anyone in this class and it never hurt to have a buddy, especially when I had away games.
Suddenly, Professor Milliken looked up and shit, was he shaking his head at us?
His class was one of the hardest classes to pass.
I had a frat brother who barely got the internship that he had been dreaming of since he was twelve because of his grade in Milliken’s class.
I didn’t need to rock the professor’s ornery goatee this early in the semester.
Professor Milliken walked to the podium, looked down on his paper, and in an auditorium filled with forty or so upperclassmen and said, “Mr. Cordello, would you like to enlighten us on what the Bohr diagram is all about?”
I swallowed dry air and glanced up, checking the symbols that he’d written on the white board.
I had no problems with explaining Bohr’s model, but I did have an issue with him singling me out. After all, I was minding my own business and was even close to falling asleep when the redhead disturbed my solitude.
“Bohr basically emphasizes that the orbits where the electrons travel can have their radii increase where n is the principal quantum number,” I supplied, hoping that my explanation would be enough to get me off the hook.
It was simplistic and minimal, but I’d rather not be forced to really think right now. Especially when I just wanted to be quiet.
Professor Milliken gave a slight shake of his head.
Thank fuck.
“Do you agree with this model?” Professor Milliken wasn’t done with me since he was still asking for more.
I take back the thanks, and retain the fuck. Times two.
Bohr’s model was good. It was the basis of quantum theory. I toyed with it in high school, and tried to see it from different angles. It wasn’t perfect, it had a lot of shortcomings. I meant no disrespect to the Dane but –
“Professor, may I?” The sound came from the back of the class.
It was husky and sexy all at once.
The kind of voice that I wouldn’t expect in a quantum mechanics class.
I wasn’t being sexist or any of that shit. And the redhead beside me was cute. And so were the other women in the class, but whoever that voice belonged to was on another level.
Professor Milliken turned his head towards the voice and nodded his head.
“I like Niels Bohr…” The voice started as the rest of class laughed. “But there’s a lot that he couldn’t answer with his model. Granted, he improved on them with subsequent studies, but this isn’t a Philosophy class so I won’t bore you with my argument.”
Professor Milliken’s face cracked; clearly, he was amused.
I was tempted to turn around, but I wanted to wait on what she had to say because clearly, she had the floor and the attention of everyone in class.
“It’s not up to me to like his model or not since his research has been the foundation of nearly everything quantum-related. But his model didn’t address the spectra of larger atoms. It can’t explain what happens when more complicated quantum principles interact with electron spin and orbital magnetic fields, which saddens me to a point because I spent a lot of my time trying to justify it in high school.” Her voice was now throaty, but the way she made her point was refreshing, and flawless, and goddamned if it didn’t make my balls tighten up.
“The doublets and triplets, that’s another thing,” she continued, “Bohr couldn’t say why their energy levels are so close together.”
“And the Zeeman effect where changes in spectral lines are because of external magnetic fields.” Added a guy in the front.
She had started this.
On the second class meeting, the whole room reverberated in opinions and energy.
Another girl in the front said, “How about the rotating charge? I want to base my thesis on it to prove his point, but I know I’ll be at a loss.”
From what I could tell, Professor Milliken was around his seventies. He was your typical college physics professor. He expected everyone to take notes as he wrote on the board and went through his endless power point presentations. Physics was a sedate class, everyone calculated, took the exams, and basically earned the grades.
But as he looked up from his black-rimmed glasses, I could tell he was fighting a smile. I mean, I couldn’t really decipher it because he had a big-ass weird goatee, but I knew that this wasn’t the type of class he expected today when he stood in front of us at 2:15 in the afternoon.
Slowly, I turned my head.
I was trying to be discreet about it.
But I really wanted to see where the voice came from.
And who she was – the woman who made quantum mechanics buzz.
She wasn’t there on the first day of class because I would know.
It was strange but I had a feeling that hers was a presence that demanded attention and if she was there last week, everyone would know about her.
Move, dude, move.
I was silently commanding the guy who was barring me from seeing her.
As if he heard my command, he slowly moved to the side, whispering to another guy beside him. The classroom wasn’t as big as the other classrooms on campus, so we had to sit closer to each other.
She was leaning over, talking to the brunette beside her, as the class was wrapping up.
All I could see were long locks of hair infused with what looked like a mix between platinum and golden blonde.
From my view, I could see that she was tall and the watch on her wrist screamed expensive.
Then as if on cue, she slowly turned towards my direction.
My sister, Bridgette, who loved to paint, often indulged me with lessons about the different colors and pigments. I listened because she was my younger sister and I was being a good brother.
A few years ago, while she was telling me about mixing colors, I found myself completely fascinated with one.
Bridge also knew the origins of each color and the one I had embedded in my memory bank. She’d used the color to paint Canada’s deep bright skies.
Derived from the latin ‘caerleus’, meaning dark blue and caelum.
This woman, the one who gave me a boner talking about an ancient physicist, I knew how to describe the color of her smiling eyes that were staring back at me.
They were a glorious blue.
Cerulean blue.