Page 33 of Scarred King

“I’m sure of it.” I glance at him cautiously, and allow myself to examine his delicate face for a moment. His soft black eyes, black hair combed carefully to the side and the goatee surrounding his lips. Boarding is announced over the loudspeaker and we both stand up.

My seat is in the front of the plane and the professor’s is in the back. The seats beside me are empty and just before takeoff he appears next to me. “I thought we should take advantage of the short flight to get to know each other,” he says shyly, and I can’t understand how this perfect man could be embarrassed by someone like me. I move over to the empty seat and he sits down next to me.

“Professor Sawyer, thank you for choosing me,” I say as I fasten my seat belt.

“Let’s start with you calling me Brian.” He fastens his seat belt as well and the plane’s wheels leave the ground. “I had a call from one of the research labs this week asking for a letter of recommendation for you,” he says, as he tries to arrange his long legs comfortably in the narrow gap between the seats. “The truth is for a minute I actually thought of refusing so that I could keep you to myself,” he sounds amused. “But I sent the recommendation after all.”

“Thank you,” I say embarrassed. “I didn’t know that they contacted you. I should have told you that I put you down as a reference.”

“I’m honored.” He signals the stewardess over and asks me what I’d like to drink.

“Just a bottle of water, thanks.” I still can’t control the excitement that has gripped me since I met him here.

“I’m glad we have the chance to spend some time together,” He passes me the bottle the stewardess gave him and opens it for me. “We can think about your professional career together.” He unbuckles his seat belt and settles in his seat. “Of course, please feel free to ask me anything you'd like.” He takes a book out of his hand luggage and opens it up to a marked page.

I have so many questions…. And suddenly three days seem like such a little time. He is already deep in his book and I take a deep breath and allow some rare relaxation to envelop me.

We ride together in a cab to the hotel where the conference is taking place and on the way he explains what the schedule will be. Starting at eight a.m. we can attend various panels and at noon he will be giving a main lecture as well.

“You don’t have to go to all the lectures and panels,” he says casually as the cab driver takes our luggage out of the trunk.

“I don’t intend to miss even one,” I respond excitedly, and he nods in satisfaction.

We receive the conference program in the hotel's lobby and I see that the first panel is starting in an hour.

He drags our luggage to the elevator, and we get off on the same floor. To my surprise, our rooms are right opposite each other, and I find it hard to decide whether I am excited or terrified that he’ll be so close to me all the time.

“Go and get yourself organized and we’ll meet in the lobby.” He pushes my suitcase into my room and leaves quickly.

“Professor Sawyer,” I follow him out.

“Brian,” he corrects me.

“Brian,” it’s hard for me to call him by his first name. “What’s the dress code?” I ask awkwardly.

“You look fine,” he smiles and I go back into my room and look at myself in the mirror. My buttoned down dress is a bit tight but modest. My braid is pulled back tightly and I look like a serious physics student. If he only knew where I work at night….

I use the time to go over the program and the booklet that comes with it, and feel my excitement escalate. My professor will be lecturing tomorrow and I’m certain that he will impress and interest everyone. I wait impatiently for an endless hour to pass and when it does, I run to the elevators and go down to the ground floor.

A lot of people are standing around in groups. I recognize the professors and researchers who publish articles in the most important magazines in the world and I feel so small, meaningless and unimportant.

“Elena,” I hear the professor’s voice and glance to my left. He signals me over and I see that he is standing with two older men, accompanied by two younger men who look as excited as I feel.

“Professor Glenn,” he says to one of them, “Professor Karim,” he says to the other, “this is Elena, my research assistant.”

“I know who you are,” I shake their hands with respect. “Professor Glenn, I read your latest research on black holes,” I am still shaking his hand enthusiastically, “and Professor Karim, I read your book on energy conversion. I’m so honored to meet you both.”

“I had no idea pretty girls could enjoy my book,” Professor Karim replies and looks at me for a fraction of a second too long. I am shocked by his rude remark and behavior, but I don’t say anything else.

“And what did you think of my research?” Professor Glenn asks me curiously.

“How long do you have?” I ask seriously and he bursts out laughing. “Very nice, Sawyer,” he says to my professor. “It looks like you’ve found a serious and pretty young woman here.” Again this remark also makes me uncomfortable but I choose to ignore it as well. It turns out that chauvinist males can be found everywhere.

“Shall we?” Professor Sawyer opens the door for us and I sit by him in the lecture hall. On the stage in front of us are five chairs, occupied by more people that I recognize.

“Take notes on anything that sounds important,” the professor whispers in my ear. I take out my laptop and as soon as the first speaker starts talking, I begin typing quickly. “You don’t have to type everything,” he says in an amused tone as the next speaker starts.

“It all sounds so important to me,” I say awkwardly and tighten my braid to my head.

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