Page 8 of My Forbidden Professor

The library is silent.

I continue to work.

My head pounds by the time the library has fully emptied. I check the time and calculate it’s early evening in New York. I dig out my cell and bring up my message stream with Adeline.

I miss her more than I want to miss her. That still surprises me. She wasn’t my friend until three months ago, when Dad met her at work, but I’m grateful for her friendship however recent it is. I’m also grateful she met Dad. She’s so clearly unaffected by his money. In fact, it was his money that almost drove her away.

I love what they have together. I’d love that for myself. A voice whispers in the back of my mind that Jacob might not be affected by money either. He kissed me thinking I was a poor student. He kissed me at the risk of his job.

But then my stomach rolls because that is exactly what he does risk. I can go back to New York, to my home. To a job at Blue Sky should I want it. Jacob doesn’t have that back-up contingency and I will not contribute to him losing his job, career and reputation. I turn my attention back to the message stream with Adeline.

Me: How go the wedding plans bride-to-be?

I watch three dots fill and refill. I can imagine Dad sitting next to her on the couch as she types.

Adeline: AGGHHH! So exciting. It’s amazing. I’ve booked the most beautiful venue. It’s a long wait for the space, but worth it. I can’t wait for you to see it.

Me: I’m really happy for you.

That’s not a lie. I’m super happy for both Dad and Adeline. If anyone deserves to be loved, it’s those two. I tap out a message before my angst pulls me under. The screen fills with everything about her plans for the wedding. The type of flowers. The matching colors. Adeline’s excitement is catching. A smile lifts my lips.

Adeline: How are you? What’s new? How’s campus life. I’m sure everyone is impressed with your big brain.

Me: Everything is fine. Well, as fine as it always is. Just lots of study. Nothing to report. I know you have a million things to do for the wedding. Don’t worry about me. We’ll catch up after minefields are cleared.

I look at the messages, delete the last one and write another message.

Me: Not much to report here. It’s actually quite boring. Let me know if you want me to do anything to help with the wedding plans. I’m bursting to help with something, and I can’t just sit here and study, study, study. If there’s something I can do then tell me.

It’s a flat out lie, but she doesn’t need to be burdened with my troubles. She has enough happiness to last into old age. I press send and wait. Any minute she’ll be too busy to reply, and I’ll have peace of mind that she’s not worried about me. If only I can relegate this suffocating nothingness that sticks to my skin that easily.

Adeline: I’d love you to shop wedding dresses with me. You know I’m not used to going into anything more exclusive than an op shop, but…is everything OK there, Steph?

Adeline is perceptive. I can’t let her know how desolate I am. How wholly alone. She’ll see right through me. I can’t have her ask me if I’m okay, because my chest aches so bad I can hardly breathe.

I wait for a beat and then type out another message.

Me: A friend has just come in my dorm (again – sigh!). Looks like it’s party time! Just keep sending those pictures through in the meantime. Have to go. Can’t wait to see you soon, Steph. Say hi to Dad for me. XoXo

I put my cell face down on the top of the desk and I’m doused in darkness, apart from the glare of my computer screen. I should leave and go back to my dorm, but the effort of getting up is too much. Besides, I have the work of four people to do. As depressing as that sounds, I can still feel the aura of students here to keep me company.

I sigh. Open the next question. And work.

A whisper and a stifled chuckle wake me. “Did she sleep here last night?”

“Pretty desperate if she did,” a male answers, his voice not so low.

“Poor thing must really be behind,” the girl says.

I straighten in my chair and swivel around. A young woman and man stare at me as they walk past. The guy doesn’t bother to hide his smirk and I snap my gaze from the woman who has pity stamped across her face. I don’t need anyone’s pity.

I stuff my computer into my bag and push my way out of the chair. My muscles creak when I stand. I rub the kink from my neck, looking for any drool on the desktop. I sling my bag over my shoulder and look at the time on my cell. Student Services should be open. Time to change Business Analytics from Jacob Black to anyone who can fit me in. It doesn’t matter who, or even if times overlap.

I flip my hair over my face, clutch my laptop to my chest and walk between the desks. No one sees me coming. No one sees me leave. A ghost who walks between thousands.

The morning air is brisk after the stale air in the library. My next stop after Student Services will be the coffee shop, followed by my dorm. I look down at my crumpled jeans and sweatshirt and make a mental note to shower before breakfast. My stomach rumbles, protesting my missed dinner last night but nothing would have made me leave the sanctuary of the library.

I pass students ambling to their morning classes, keeping an eye out for the familiar figure of Professor Black jogging, which he does regularly down this particular path. I juggle the risk of him seeing me rather than me taking the longer way around the quadrant, but getting to Student Services the fastest wins.

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