She waited for a few minutes, until I had my maw filled with another spoonful of creamy vanilla, to blurt out, “So what’d he mean that you didn’t get to finish your conversation earlier?”
My eyes darted to the ceiling, and I studied the small holes there for a few minutes as I prayed for endurance. “When I was getting ready to the leave the class, he asked me about my studies. Madison the-universe-revolves-around-me Kinley had to be the center of Doctor Treviso’s attention and interrupted our conversation.”
This type of behavior from Madison was not foreign to me. It had been this way since high school, when I first started dating Cole. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, it seemed like she was always trying to compete with me at everything, whether it was attempting to catch the eye of a boy who showed me attention or to appear like the smartest person in class. From the moment I accepted Cole’s first invitation of a date, Mads had turned everything into a contest.
The red-head chuckled. “Sounds like he wasn’t as impressed by her.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” I exclaimed, my gaze back on her once more. “It’s not like there’s a competition here. He’s our instructor, however temporary that may be. And as a grown adult and professional, I’m sure he knows what borders should never be crossed. He came in to get some breakfast, and we got caught up in pointless conversation. He forgot and didn’t feel like going back through the line again. Plain and simple. He’s just a nice, social guy. There’s nothing more to it, Brie.”
“Okay, okay.” She threw her hands up in defense. “But it sounds like you’re just trying to convince yourself.” When I glared, she shook her head. “Okay, I’m done. I promise.”
The worst part was that she was right. I was trying to stop my own deluded brain from reading more into a mundane situation. This one-sided attraction had gone too far, and I was purely establishing the cold, hard facts with my runaway imagination: Simon Treviso was a gentleman, and a seemingly social one at that. His friendly demeanor and outgoing personality could easily be misconstrued by the wrong person, such as one with a mounting physical attraction to his person.
I let out a resigned breath.
It was going to be a long first few weeks.
Oh how right I was!
Three times a week, Simon Treviso would greet me warmly and inquire about my other classes, my opinions on the systems I was learning, and sometimes topics that were more his area of study, such as literature, history, and performing arts. And three times a week, always after the two-hour long lecture, he would accompany me to the cafeteria where I would meet Brie, and once, sometimes twice, out of those three times, he would insist on paying for whatever tasty nibble I was interested in. I kept telling Brie that if she wouldn’t run off to a table, Doctor Treviso would do the same for her, but she strongly disagreed. And three times a week, Madison Kinley inevitably tried some new flashy or dramatic attempt to get attention from the attractive man.
I was being driven crazy, slowly but surely, and had no guess as to which party would tip me over the edge first. I was more than relieved when the university found a permanent replacement for Bahr, yet overwhelmingly sad. Without him being temporarily in charge of the A&P class, Simon Treviso had no reason to speak with me, walk with me each morning.
“You’re moping,” Brie murmured in my ear as we got into line for our morning routine. She brushed off my snort of disagreement. “You are. You’re sad and you’re moping because you haven’t gotten to see Doctor Treviso today.”
“That is not true.” My response was decidedly waspishly, even though I knew full well she was right. “I can’t be moping. He’s an instructor, Brie.”
“He’s not your instructor anymore, y’know,” she replied sagely. “Besides, you even said you haven’t had any quizzes or tests with him or anything, so it’s not like your grades were ever affected by his judgment. He doesn’t even work in the same department. He teaches Humanities, for god’s sake. He has nothing to do with your education, your grades or anything else this school needs to worry about.”
“He could be married.”
“He’s not.” I could practically hear her victorious grin. “I did some casual asking around—don’t you ‘oh god’ me! I was very subtle—and I found out that he is, in fact, very single. And very straight, in case you were wondering.”
“Brie!” I hissed, pivoting on my heel to argue with her about leaving the subject of the instructor alone. I stopped short when I came face-to-face with the man in question. “Oh! Um… Hello, Doctor Treviso. How are you today?”
His lips curled slightly. “Well, I do believe my students were rather disappointed to see me today instead of Doctor Coker, and some of them are not even half as attentive as your own class. I was rather put out when I caught two of them lost to the sandman.” His eyes all but glimmered with devilish glee. “I would very much like to believe, Sofia, that in all these previous weeks, you would have told me if you found me boring, yes?”
“I think I’m going to go get us a seat, Sof,” Brie said before making a hasty retreat.
“You know, if your friend is not careful,” he teased, “I am apt to come down with a complex.”
I felt the blood rising to the surface of my cheeks. “She’s, well, she’s… She has ideas.”
A pale eyebrow nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Ideas? Would you care to expand on that?”
“I’d rather not.”
My brusque tone seemed to surprise him. “Are you quite all right, Sofia?”
I released a heavy breath. “It’s been a bad day.” I allowed myself to study his pressed black slacks, white shirt with licorice-grey blazer, and realized it just got a lot worse for me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”
What in the name of heaven and hell was wrong with me? From the moment I came in contact with the man, I was indescribably attracted to him. It was in no way natural, and it was genuinely causing me to wonder whether or not I should contact my therapist. Given that he had to be at least fifteen to twenty years older, it made me worry I might have slipped back into a destructive pattern stemming from the loss of my father. Whatever it was, the attachment was not at all healthy.
“Do you wish to talk about it?”
I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t. I ignored my desires, distracting myself by drawing my suddenly sweaty palms across the cotton fabric of my skirt and bunching the material lightly in my fists. I licked my dry lips before pulling the matching sweater tighter around my chest like some sort of flimsy shield. “Um, that’s probably not a good idea, Doctor Treviso.”
“Are you sure, Sofia?” he gently prodded.
No, I was not sure. I wasn’t sure of anything at this point.
“I really don’t want to talk about it with—” I waved around at the hustle and bustle of students. “It’s just not the place to talk about… stuff.”
“Stuff?” he repeated with a hint of mirth in his voice. “All right. Would you perhaps like to join me for lunch to discuss… stuff?” I must have looked like I was going to say no, because he quickly interjected, “I know of an authentic Italian restaurant only a few miles from here. It does not look to be much from the outside, like one of those—what do you call them?—hole-in-the-wall types, but the cuisine is absolutely delicious. And due to its location, it is rather away from the public. I doubt anyone here knows of it.”
Logically, I knew nothing good could possibly come of my saying yes, yet there was some deep driving instinct urging me to do so, and despite my mind’s rational objections, I agreed to follow him and meet him for lunch.
If Madison were to find out, you would be in deep, hot merda!
He let me pay for my own chocolate muffin this time, and when I finally reached the regular table I shared with Brie, she looked like she was about to burst with curiosity.
I stared at her for a moment before I gave in to a weary sigh. “I need your help. I know she hasn’t bothered caring before, but on the off-
chance she shows even the most remote interest in what we are doing for lunch today, can you tell Madison we’re doing Chinese and don’t let her follow you wherever you go? I, um, I’m meeting Simon for lunch somewhere.” I cut off her delighted squeal before it could make its way out of her throat. “Don’t say or shriek anything, please. He asked, and for some ungodly reason, I said yes.” I tried to ignore her glowing features. “I shouldn’t have, Brie. I could get in a lot of trouble. He could get in a lot of trouble.”
“He is in Humanities,” she returned with the same emphasis, “and you are in Health Sciences, and it’s not like y’all are going to be making out in the halls or anything.”
I gawked at her in disbelief. “Whatever,” I muttered with a hint of petulance. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”
And I didn’t. I made sure I steered clear of any subject that could lead back to the Humanities instructor.
I managed to avoid Madison in the halls before and after our second class, and thanks to Brie’s misdirection and the constant flood of students crowding the popular wing, I successfully slipped away without being caught up in her alternating intrusive questions and scathing insults. I considered it an Olympic feat, because the girl was like a leech: once she wanted something, she sank her fangs in and held on for dear life while she drained you of yours.
I drove my car toward the back end of the farthest parking lot, and my eyes widened at the sight.
Waiting there for me was a sleek, black coupe that looked like it cost a good three or four of my old Focus. The sunlight gleamed off the polished hood, making the surface appear like a fathomless lake of silver. And though I was by no means a car aficionado, even I could appreciate the smooth lines and overall beauty of the magnificent machine.
I briefly wondered how he could afford it. I mean, I was sure with a doctorate and a masters, and teaching in a well-regarded university, he made more money than, say, my old high school teacher Mr. O’Cleirigh, but it still was a relatively expensive car.
I followed him all the way to a close, but nearly-abandoned, old shopping complex.
He was right. The likelihood of anyone, student or otherwise, being there was almost nil.
I parked behind him, and let my eyes drift over the car as I climbed out. “What kind of car is that?”
His smile was instantaneous. “That is an Audi S5 coupe.”
“So it is as expensive as it looks,” I said dryly.
“Indeed.”
He offered me his elbow, and almost instinctively, I slipped my hand into the crook, staggered at how fluid and natural my response seemed. It shouldn’t have felt so easy though, I mentally argued with myself.
I pushed the thoughts aside at once. If I were going to make it through this lunch with any grace, not to mention my sanity intact, I was going to have to stop the quarrelling between my logic and my surprising draw toward his being. I was determined to make it through this, and once I had done so, I would simply tell him that while I appreciated the camaraderie, I believed it would be best to not continue our acquaintanceship in such a manner. I was a student after all, and he a professor of the university I attended.
Even as the thoughts swirled in my mind, I felt a twinge of… despair?
You’re being ridiculous! I growled to myself. He’s a professor, and you hardly know him. It’s a crush, and you’re letting it get out of hand.
I thought you weren’t going to argue with me.
That stopped me cold, and I decided then and there I’d call my shrink when her office opened, first thing Monday morning, because I was losing my mind. Literally. I had to be. It was the only thing to explain my ridiculous infatuation with this man and my new habit of arguing with myself.
Despite my continued internal warring, lunch was fantastic. He had been right. The food was beyond delicious, exquisite actually, and the golds, reds, and browns of the dining room were satisfyingly inviting.
The little hole-in-the-wall was owned by a couple, Calogero and Ermina Barsetti, who appeared to be in their late sixties. They had four children of whom they were very proud and all of whom apparently turned out to be as good at cooking as their parents. They also had two Bolognese dogs named Beast and Mitzi.
I couldn’t help but smile and laugh with the couple. They were as charming as the food was delicious, and I found myself hoping that perhaps Simon would ask me to come back sometime for a second lunch, as highly inappropriate as it was. Sadly, I had to banish those thoughts, and tried to ignore the pang I felt in my chest as our meal drew closer to its end.
“Doctor Treviso—”
“Simon.”
I felt a distinct thrill, stronger than the first time he had urged me to use his given name, fill me and had to shove it deep down in order to focus. “Simon, I…” I was having issues getting the words out. “I don’t want you to think I don’t enjoy your company.”
I had to lower my eyes to the pink tablecloth, which was far more appealing than it had been twenty seconds ago. “You are wonderful company. You’re hilarious and intelligent, and—” I was starting to sound like some love-sick teenager, and I had to stop at once— “I’m worried about what could happen. Brie said something, and I’ve started to worry. If people knew you were socializing with a student, it could not only give the wrong impression, but you could end up in trouble with the university. You’re an instructor and I’m a student. You could be fired and I could be expelled.
“I really think anything more than a strictly professional, student and teacher relationship could be really… bad,” I said flatly. “I’m surprised no one’s said anything about breakfast and the fact you’re normally buying mine.”
I finally gazed back up to find his face impassive, and came to the conclusion the blank look on his features was worse than if he had been angry. “I just don’t want either one of us to get in trouble.”
He licked his lips, and I found myself wanting to taste the plump, pink flesh. “Sofia, the university’s policy regarding student and teacher interaction is simultaneously clear and vague. It specifically states that no professor shall engage in unprofessional behavior with his or her students, which can be interpreted in two very separate ways: a teacher cannot pursue a relationship with any student of the university, which is indeed how most people chose to infer the policy, or… a teacher cannot pursue a relationship with any student whom he or she instructs within their classes, thus directly influencing their education and results thereof, including but not limited to grades and standing within the school.”
His slight frown began to change, the corners of his mouth slowly curling upward, and his amethyst eyes shined with both mischief and some secret knowing. “I chose to interpret the policy as the latter. Plus, I come from a family that has been, shall we say, exceedingly generous to the college in the past. I assure you, my position will never come into question.”
To my shock and horror, I found myself asking, “And what about mine?”
FOUR
I had in fact, beyond any shadow of a doubt, lost my ever-loving mind, and Brianna Hartwin loved it. She was ecstatic even, while I swung back and forth between giddiness and exasperation. I still was amazed I had agreed to carry on seeing Simon in the same manner as we had been, but I was absolutely flabbergasted by the fact I had also agreed to allow things to progress. This, of course, was on the understanding that it happen naturally, and preferably slowly, given my unrelenting concern about his position and my status as a student.
So that was how it was.
I continued to receive random texts from Cole, though they had become increasingly less and less frequent, and I resolutely ignored every single one—although if Brie was ever around, I would show them to her and let her get a good kick out of them. And I continued to be joined by Simon Treviso for breakfast each morning, and enjoyed lunch with him at the Barsetti’s once a week.
I was quite comfortable and happy with the steady pace of my ongoing friendship with the Humanities pr
ofessor. His knowledge of biology and medical sciences, and my interest in art, history, and literature always ensured that we were never at a loss for good conversation, and as the weeks turned into months, I was unsurprised to find myself falling for more than his inhumanly good looks.
For the first time since I was in high school and dating Cole, I began to fret about what to wear in the mornings. I wanted something that would appeal to Simon, but I wasn’t sure what would work better. I imagined a flowy skirt would appeal more to the more old-fashioned part of his personality, but I also knew a great top paired with the perfect jeans and accessories would be a guarantee to draw his eyes to my more prominent assets.
“Oh dear god,” I mumbled to myself as I dug through my closet. “I know I didn’t just think that. Sof, you are a terrible, terrible human being.” But even as I chided myself for my inappropriate thoughts, I realized I didn’t quite care as much as I would have in the past.
I grinned as I pulled a black sundress from the closet. The red, dogwood-like flowers printed on the bottom would be enhanced with my cherry knit shrug. I briefly considered ruby flats, but opted for black, knee-high boots. One bun, lightly powdered face, and a chunky, red and black beaded necklace later, I was out of the house—I’d worry about my lip gloss when I made it to the school.
Brie noticed the effort I made, as did Simon when were standing in the cafeteria line. Unfortunately, one other person noticed, and she did not hesitate to hassle me about it as I made my way to my medical terminology class.
“So who is all of this for, Deery?” Madison inquired snidely, using her own annoying nickname for me. “Surely, not Cole?”
I was so taken aback by her garish attire—jeans splashed with glitter, tucked into the most god-awful, neon green, furry boots and an equally flashy lime top that I swear would have been uncomfortably tight on a ten year girl—that I barely heard her words.
Somehow I managed to recover from my distasteful shock, and blandly asked, “Why in the name of god would I be dressing up for Colton Malver?”
Feral: Part One Page 4
