I barely slept.

  Firstly because, for some reason, I decided to obey Andrew immediately after coming home from the bar (not without difficulty) and played the movie at one in the morning. His words felt like marked into my destiny because I couldn’t keep my eyes away from the screen. The dynamic, the dialogues, the songs, the emotions, the purity of the lights. I was mesmerized. It was poorly written.

  Secondly because my mind couldn’t think of anything else than him.

  Him at the bar.

  Him at Tufts.

  Him doing his lectures with his thick black glasses over his nose, thick hands splayed over thicker thighs.

  Him in the intimacy of my home, on my couch and— what is even happening?

  I can’t fathom how all of this started, but once the movie ended, and my lids closed themselves under the weight of multiple tons, the images that succeeded each other were really not under my control. I’ve lost that a long time ago. Maybe since the very first day of school.

  Dreams are usually just a recollection of moments we lived very shortly before the night, sometimes bending and twisting reality into the contrary but sometimes just a little farther from the truth, just enough for our mind to be sure that, once we wake up, we had invented all of it. The emotions, though, resist.

  There was music vaguely echoing in the back of my mind, while cloths of red, white, yellow, vivid colors flashed before my eyes. And his voice, his scent, all the rest was infuriatingly suffocating and I woke up in a jerk, skin drenched with sweat.

  I’m barely alive when I push the doors of the university. My hair is not combed, my dark circles could probably welcome a family of ten and I’m not sure I’ve dressed appropriately. Did I even put on a boxer? Can’t tell. “You look like shit this morning.”

  Caroline’s voice chimes while I walk and her words from the other day clash drastically with the ones she used today. Deservedly. Still. “Hello, Caroline.”

  “Smelling rather nice for someone who didn’t shower.”

  “I did.” I think. Was it yesterday? What day is it? Last night was Thursday. At the bar. So today would be Friday. Why is it so hard to make my brain work this morning?

  “Did the devil bite you back?”

  “That’s one way to put it.” We haven’t had the chance to entertain each other since last time. Probably because I felt a bit too ashamed to talk to her after what I did, and avoided entering the building through her side of the aisle. But I should really apologize. “Look, I’m—”

  “Sorry, yes of course. I understand what you did. It wasn’t the best way to explain.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m an idiot. She’s acting so maturely to my very immature attitude and I have this deep feeling of being unworthy. Just like a lot of other aspects in my life. “I could hug you now.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I know. It’s my fault. Now you’re going to be attentive and distrustful. I’m sorry.”

  “It might take a while. Or just a service.”

  One of my eyebrows shoot up. “Tell me?”

  “Do you know Taylor Freinel?”

  It takes me longer than I should to find his face. It’s here, right before my eyes. Dark hair, spread with a little grey here and there, large shoulders, small belly. “Doctor Freinel? Biology teacher?”

  She nods with the cutest smile. Her fingers fidget against the counter. “Could you… have a word with him? He never comes to this part of the building. But we exchange some gazes. I just want to be sure I have a chance here.”

  “I was right about the perfume.” My smile is wide and it feels like a small victory. She immediately lifts her eyes at the ceiling.

  “Yes. You were. But you were wrong about me liking you.”

  “You don’t?” I straighten my spine and rest my hand over my heart, hurt.

  She giggles. “Not that way. You’re cute, don’t get me wrong.”

  “I am…” My voice goes up, charmed. She keeps on sighing, exasperated.

  Her hand bats in front of me. “You’re a little too young for me, dear.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Whenever the occasion present itself, I’ll talk to Doctor Frienel about you. But you know, I might not be the best for this.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He probably never talked to the other professors.”

  Andrew’s voice. I check the clock. Not even eight a.m. He’s on time today. Not that I verified during the week. It so happened that I would cross him each time I would open the door of my room. And if we ever only exchanged cordial nods, he usually offered me sincere smiles, just like the one he’s doing right now.

  He’s wearing a long black coat, grey sweater over a white shirt and a corduroy olive pants with polished Richelieu shoes. While my gaze goes up to his eyes, he lost a little bit of his smile and composure. He coughs and turns back to Caroline. “Do you need me to have a word with Taylor?”

  Does he call him by his name for figures or did he already bond with all of the professors here? “Do you know him well, Andrew?” Caroline asks the question for me.

  “Relatively, yes. Wouldn’t mind checking on him once more. That way, Alexej will be able to keep his record of days spent without talking to one of his peers.”

  The way my name rolls out effortlessly of his tongue should be forbidden. The way he deliberately evokes it, also. Would choking him in front of the entrance a bit too violent to start the day? Genuinely asking.

  And as always, it’s as if he’s in my head, and he grins. Death wishes against him might be one of his kinks. Suddenly, the dream comes back to me and I picture him again on the sofa, splayed, ruffled, and it snaps inside me. That I have to leave. “I’ll see him at next week’s party anyway. Are you guys invited?”

  Caroline nods and they both share a knowing smile. They seem to be planning the whole evening in their heads. Until Andrew turns to me. And wait for my response.

  But he already knows it. That I’m unaware of the party. That I wouldn’t be invited anyway because I know mostly nobody in this establishment. “You should come.” He eventually adds. And instead of waiting for my questions, he just continues. “Tuesday night. In the 15-04 office.”

  I walk toward my classroom without a glance back.

  ?

  “Did you look in the mirror this morning?”

  Isabella’s welcome in her office strangely rings with Caroline’s speech from a few hours ago. I did look in the mirror while brushing my teeth, in fact, but I didn’t have much time to ponder over needing a full-on mask or two slaps on the cheeks.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  My eyes roam over my own body with my arms wide open. “This is my every day outfit.”

  “Hmm.” She grabs a few papers, sits down on her chair and crosses her legs graciously. “Have a seat.”

  “I don’t have much time. Still need to eat before my class.”

  “Perfect, then, I’ll cut to the chase. What is wrong with Andrew Miller?”

  Him again. How come before a few days ago, I was completely unaware of his damn existence but now it seems my whole life revolves around him? She has crossed her fingers and lifted her hands to her mouth, deeply interested. “I can think of a few things.”

  “Are you making his semester difficult because he’s in a lab and you are not?”

  “Did he come to mommy to whine?” I say with a large grin on my face. Of all the things I imagined him doing, going straight to the Research Director’s office to complain about my attitude was not one of them. After coming to me multiple times, I figure this is only the repercussions of his own actions.

  Isabella’s face remains closed. “He did not.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  She bends her head to the side. I spoke too fast. “So, you terrorize him?”

  “Your choice of word is a tad exaggerated.”

  “Be honest, Alex.”

  “If anything, he harasses .”

  She laughs. “Now choice of word seems dramatic.”

  What can I say? made it a personal quest to change my mind about his classes. found my secret spot while I was on a break to offer his help I didn’t ask for, nor require. got all-mighty upset when I criticized romantic comedies and invited me to the party of another professor. He keeps on appearing into my everyday life and I’ve had enough. Even more so, he’s now summoned in my dreams. “I don’t like him.”

  “For legitimate reasons, I’m sure. Well, you’ll have to suck it up, big boy, because if you end up working in our labs, you might be seeing each other more often.”

  “If?” My eyes have ceased to blink and no smiles illustrate my visage anymore. I hope she’ll decipher this bomb quickly because this might be the worst choice of word she ever used.

  She sighs. And I wait. The hurt cripples my limbs and I continue waiting. “Alexej, there are aspects of our situation that you don’t know about and—”

  “Tell me.”

  “I can’t.” Her eyebrows twist like a sad dog.

  “Why?”

  “It’s out of my reach. I’m sorry. I’m doing the—”

  “Best you can, yeah, I heard that before.” The sensations are the same. Numb anger, disappointment, resent, exasperation.

  I might feel resilience soon.

  She stands up and comes closer to me. Her hand falls onto my shoulder. “I’m working against all odds here, and I ask that you trust me. That’s what’s best for you.”

  But the doubt has made its way to my mind now. Andrew is too present, everywhere. He’s close to the dean, and obviously close to Isabella, and they are the two people deciding over who’s hired to be in this labs’ institution. He

  his own help, probably just to fraternize better with his enemy. To have access to my thoughts and fears and to be able to watch me destroy myself, to witness my downfall. “I have to go.” I eventually admit. And I aim straight for the cafeteria.

  Since this morning was in a rush, I didn’t even stop at a bakery or a supermarket to buy food. Usually, I avoid crowded rooms, especially the ones where I could run into my students. I appreciate the scenery of my own non-office. But today, my time is limited. And I choose the Tower Café, situated inside the campus library.

  It happens that I ingest food because it’s fuel for our bodies rather than because of my gargling stomach. This is one of these moments. But I know better than to skip meals and start my lectures with an empty belly. Tower Café is great because of its light snacks’ options and the possibility of roaming among the books Tisch Library can offer.

  Most of my courses are already finished and perfected, but as a doctor and a teacher, I surely know how much the medicine and scientific fields can evolve drastically even in the course of a night. Which is the main reason why I like to eat, reading reviews of the latest science article. I’ve been following Doctor Esmeralda Gorgio’s work intensively for the past four years and social media informed of her newest project concerning the alteration of cells and their possible improvement regarding various aspects of mutations.

  As I sit with my food tray and the magazine in question in hand, my ears faintly catch the sound of my name on my left. My eyes were so glued on the article and the words that I haven’t watched the table that I chose. “Doctor Miller, what a surprise!”

  Six of my colleagues are here, all are either mathematicians, biologists or physicist and teaches in the same sector as mine. The last time that I talked to them was at the meeting. First day of the school year. Well, is not even the appropriate word. I simply nodded. And maybe whispered greetings here and there. But nothing much. As I usually do.

  They all stare and wait. Because, of course, refusing isn’t even an option at this point. The words of my father, Jesse and Elena floats around my brain and besides the relentless urge to snatch the paper, leave my food and quit the room, I do quite the opposite. Their eyes grow bigger and for some reason, I feel pride at their astonishment.

  “Four years and I’ve never seen you set foot in this service area,” says one of them. It’s a pain, having to watch their faces with much concentration in hope a name will emerge from my memories.

  “Do you all come here every lunch?” I ask instead. Spreading my reasons is not part of my plan.

  Emily Arner, physicist (experimentalist?), offers a large smile and sets her fork down. “Almost never. It’s usually the Carmichael Dining Center since Gloria’s gluten intolerant.” She points at the woman sitting in front of her, two chairs on my left. I nod. So, the timing is just perfect. I managed to choose the exact day and hour to bump into them. “What are you reading?”

  “Hum. Doctor Gorgio latest article.”

  The man in front of me lifts his head up, a piece of salad blocked between his two lips. He does grant us with the pleasure of swallowing his mouthful before speaking. “You read her?”

  “I’m a biology teacher, of course I read her,” I answer smugly. He lifts his eyebrows and goes back to eating. I think his name is Nathan.

  “Sorry, we’re just startled by your humanity.” Another woman blabbers from Emily’s right. She didn’t share one glance at me and kept her arms crossed over her chest since her coworker expressed the desire to have me at their table.

  I’m fully aware my reclused attitude and sufficient demeanor might have created resentment toward me. Anger, or straight up hate, even. I mostly gambled on indifference, and that’s what a majority of them have chosen. Well, I imagine. All of them six gazes and Emily finally breaks the silence with an uneased laugh. “It’s just that we barely see you. Some have started to invent that you were a robot.”

  Can I really blame them? No. I’ve made no effort since the beginning of my teaching years because of how tunneled my vision have been, focusing on the end of the road, which was finally having my position in one of the labs of this University. So tunneled, that I had decided that making friend along the way was truly unnecessary and time-consuming. That they would demand too much of me, when all of my energy had to be channeled in the production of my own articles.

  I never presumed they would spend time creating rumors about me. “I eat, sleep and shit like any other human being, yes.” I answer with a tinge of bitterness. It does crack a smile on Emily’s and her friend’s faces.

  “Well, we were worried.”

  “Is there a reason you were so… alone?”

  The question startles me. I could be honest, tell them of my plan, how long it takes, and how exhausting it is, but I would rather pick and tear out my own nails than to start venting on my troubles and struggles here, at the Tower Café, between the books and the students. “If anything, I chose to be.”

  Nathan hums and admits. “That’s too bad.”

  My eyebrows frown. Too bad? Why?

  “I’m sure we would have benefited from your expertise.” Emily adds.

  “My expertise?” I genuinely query, the bite of my pizza interrupted.

  She continues. “We like to debate on various subjects during our lunch break or when we rejoice in the professor’s lounge. And we know that for a young doctorate, you’re very talented. It would have been a pleasure to discuss with you, of your previous and upcoming work.”

  The heat rises on my cheek and I look down to avoid being noticed. Is it coming from awkwardness, shame or pride? Maybe all of the above.

  Suddenly, my pizza doesn’t look so appealing and my stomach churns in a weird way. Before the silence becomes deafening, Emily turns to her right. “Sarah, should we—”

  “Come to the party next week,” the man directly at my left blurts. His name is Russel. He’s much older than I am and has been a teacher forever, it seems. He and Doctor Felandra were good friends. Still are, I guess. She’s not dead, just very close to labor. I often saw him in her classroom when I would brainstorm with her for my replacement courses. Sarah and Emily watch him with wide pupils, but I’m sure for two different reasons. “It’ll be fun.”

  Sarah hisses but nobody else reacts. Nathan’s fingers play with his lips and Russel share my gaze expectantly. We exchanged a few times and they were always cordial. He expresses something wise, careful, astute. And the fact that it’s him, of all people, that decides to invite me to that party, it might be one of the most exciting situations that I ever been a part of. Seeing the look on Andrew’s face when everybody will be expecting me there is surely going to help me sleep tonight.