14
I last saw Professor Kingston in class on Friday. After everyone left the room, he told me where and when to meet him today, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I changed my outfit three times before finally settling on something I thought was both cute, but not trying too hard. I wanted him to like what he saw, but I didn’t want to be a slut about it.
Once I’m in my car, I recall his directions, and eventually find my way to a park. When I turn the corner, I see cars lined up on a gravel lot and pull in immediately. My eyes scan the nearby area, looking for an attractive, brooding math professor, but I don’t find him.
Farther away, in front of the lake, there’s another parking area, and then even further away, on the complete opposite side is another one.
I spot several picnic tables, a playground, and lots of ducks and geese in the water. A few kids run around on a basketball court, and an elderly couple sit on a bench in front of the water, feeding the birds.
I get out of the car, bringing my notebook and laptop with me, and start walking. I pass several beautiful trees and follow a cement walking trail. I’m too busy enjoying the view of the lake and laughing at a goose chasing after a woman who was trying to feed it, that I nearly bump into the sinfully sexy teacher I came here to meet.
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s okay. Looks like we parked on opposite sides.”
“Yeah. That goose is mean,” I say, pointing at the white bird who continues to harass the lady.
He chuckles. “Yeah, they can be. I don’t bother feeding them. They’re greedy little fuckers.”
I laugh, surprised at the language. Not that I don’t have a potty mouth, but you always think of teachers as non-human. Like you don’t expect to see them at the store or doctor’s office. You don’t think they cuss or smoke or drink. You just see them as the people meant to teach you something, and think they live their lives in the school.
We continue down the path until we get to a single picnic table as far away from everybody else as possible. There’s no playgrounds, ducks, basketball courts, or anything over here. This is where teenagers come to smoke weed or make out. It’s nearly hidden behind a massive tree. He’s probably afraid to be seen by anybody.
“Okay, let’s start with chapter two, section two point one,” he says as soon as we get to the table.
“Oh, fun.”
His lips turn up on one end. “I have some worksheets here.”
He starts talking about finding the slope of a curved line, and something about finding the derivative of f(x)=4x, and possibly more numbers and letters. Honestly, it’s hard to concentrate on his words when he’s leaning over and the muscles in his forearms are bulging, the veins calling me to trace them up under the sleeve of his gray shirt. His eyes are even lighter out in the sun, and his lips are perfectly proportioned and look so soft.
“Do you get it?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s asking me something. I look up into his hypnotizing eyes. “Huh? Sorry. Umm, yeah, let me try.”
It ends up taking me way longer than I thought it would to get through this section. But after I snapped myself out of the daze he put in, I was able to focus a little more. After a million questions, and lots of patience on his side, I was finally able to complete a worksheet without missing more than one problem.
“We have a lot of work to do,” I tell him, making a face. “Sorry I’m so shitty at math.”
He laughs. “You’re not the only one.”
I pout. “You’re not supposed to admit I’m shitty.”
His smile makes my heart thump wildly in my chest. “Sorry, Nova. You’re not shitty.”
“Yeah right. Liar.”
His smile grows bigger, and I realize this is the most I’ve seen him look happy. Now that we’re done with this section, I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want our time to come to an end. So I start talking and hope he doesn’t realize I’m stalling.
“I have a confession.”
He looks worried. Probably afraid I’m going to tell him I’ve had another dream about him. Even though that hasn’t happened, he’s starred in many of my daydreams.
“I looked your brother’s band up. I have some of their music on my Spotify playlist. They’re pretty good.”
He relaxes. “Yeah, they are.”
“Did you know all of them?”
He nods. “Yep. They all practiced in the garage of my house.”
“Wow, that’s cool. Did you ever expect it to go anywhere?”
“Not really, to be honest. I thought they were just kids who had a hobby. Yes, they were talented, but this is a small town. However, they put in a lot of work. They got older and smarter, made demos, put videos on the internet, played locally, then continued to grow.”
“Do you have other brothers?”
“Two more,” he answers simply.
“I only have one sister. We fought a lot growing up, so I couldn’t imagine having more than that.”
“I’m the oldest, so I didn’t really get involved in a lot of the fights as we were growing up. The two middle ones, Royce and Cillian, fought a lot. Merrick, the one in the band, was too young, so he wasn’t caught up in all of that either.”
I nod my head, enjoying hearing him talk, but I sense him becoming uncomfortable. He keeps looking away and clenching his jaw.
“I really appreciate you taking the time to help me. I’m sure you’re busy on the weekends.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have too much going on,” he replies. “And I don’t want you
