Page 34 of Scarred King

“Learn to filter information, otherwise your brain will overload,” he explains and I nod. From now on I try to listen more and type less.

We carry on this way for two more panels and when they’re over, we go to the dining room. The huge hall is totally packed. After filling a plate from the generous buffet, he touches my elbow gently and indicates that I should follow him. We sit down at one of the tables and he immediately gets involved in a conversation with the people sitting next to him.

“Are you his teaching assistant?” asks the girl with the glasses who is sitting next to me, while looking the professor over with great interest.

“Research assistant,” I answer and start eating.

“Are you graduating this year?” she’s still looking at him.

“No, I’m only a sophomore.”

“And you’re a research assistant already?” she asks surprised.

“Yes,” I shrug, trying to listen to the discussion around the table.

“Interesting,” she says and looks me over. “That wouldn’t happen at our university.”

I suppose she wants me to ask her which university that is, but I have no intention of talking to her when such an interesting debate is being held around me.

“They’re all talking about him,” she whispers in my ear, and I think to myself how annoying she is. “He’s so young and already a professor. He’s a mystery,” she falls silent for a moment and then continues to whisper, “He’s the most eligible bachelor in our field, you know,” she says giggling. “Some of the female lecturers from my university came here especially to meet him.”

“I don’t find any of that gossip interesting.” I can’t be polite anymore. “Excuse me, I just want to eat in peace.” She sits up straight and looks at me with an insulted expression on her face. I don’t try to make peace with her. I’m bothered by the mass of single ladies who have apparently got their eyes on my professor. So unprofessional of me, but it’s poisoning my thoughts.

We go to the main lecture and now I notice how the women race for seats on his other side as well as in front and behind of him. Women of various ages, with impressive degrees and who look so professional and attractive, all flirting with him and giggling like pimpled teenaged girls. He answers each one politely, but takes advantage of every quiet moment to ensure that I understand the lecture, adding some anecdotes of his own. There is not a woman in the room who isn’t sizing me up, and some even try to draw me into a conversation. This is a weird situation for me. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep our special closeness for much longer. During one of the breaks I go to the restroom and text Johanna:

Me: All the women here are all over him.

Johanna: Professor Sawyer?

Me: Yes.

Johanna: So he abandoned you?

Me: No. He’s with me all the time.

Johanna: You should try to seduce him.

Me: Are you crazy? He’s our professor.

Johanna: But he is a man first, and he gives you all his attention (I am so jealous).

Me: It’s unprofessional. And anyway, I don’t know how to do something like that.

Johanna: Don’t miss this opportunity. Besides you're French. You are known to be seductresses.

Me: Maybe my mother…not me.

Johanna: Ask him out for dinner and wear the pink dress.

Me: OK, that’s enough. I feel like a little girl.

Johanna: Then start acting like a woman.

Me: Got to go. Bye.

Johanna: I’m jealous!

When I come out of the restroom I meet him again at the entrance to one of the panels.

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