The only person who noticed her huge yawn was sitting in the first row. Sam Randall. He shook his shaggy blond head of hair and matched her yawn with an even bigger one. Then he rolled his eyes at her.
Looking at her graduate assistant, she decided he needed to eat a cookie or two. Maybe she’d buy some and give them to him as a Christmas present. He was so thin from running marathons and so naturally pale, he looked like a skinny white wraith sitting in the front row. Each new school year, at least one student would do a double take when they walked into class and saw the gifted programmer sitting in his customary front row seat.
Once, when a student had come to her office and complained about Sam creeping him out, Dallas had lectured the kid on how the grad student was smarter than the entire anthropology department put together and that if the kid didn’t like it, he didn’t have to take her class. And furthermore, Dallas told the kid, if Sam had wanted to, he could probably be filthy rich right now working for some tech company, but instead, he chose to sit in her classroom and help her out.
Then Dallas made the offending student sit by Sam as she lectured the class about a powerful new cartographic mapping system that allowed archeologists around the world could enter writings and recordings found at any dig and the computer would plot out what the civilization looked like on a map. The program also estimated what tunnels and caves and temples might have existed and provided a map of what they looked like, as well.
At the end of her presentation, she pointed to Sam.
“And he played a major role in developing the program. We are so lucky to have him here helping us.”
The student had looked at Sam wide-eyed and was in awe of him the rest of the semester.
Now, as Sam rolled his eyes at her, she looked exaggeratedly at her watch and then nodded toward the door before making gestures as if she was guzzling beer.
Sam laughed out loud and several startled students looked up. But only for a few seconds and then dipped their heads again to their online imaginary worlds.
Soon, the hour was over.
In her office, Dallas tidied up some papers and books and checked a few emails glancing frequently at the clock. She couldn’t wait to leave for the day. She was celebrating the last day of the semester by attending the reading from the two archeologists who’d discovered the sunken city artifacts.
She’d googled the two men, but there was a surprising lack of information about them online, only a few research papers and a technical article or two in the European press.
While the exhibit had been utterly mind-blowing, Dallas was even more excited about the reading and talk. She wanted to ask them archeologists about the search for Cleopatra’s tomb.
Nobody had come as close as they had. They’d been the first people to unearth huge pieces of the sunken city of Alexandria. And yet, the literature at the exhibit had said that they’d only found an approximate ten percent of what was there to be found.
She retrieved a few protein bars from a drawer in her desk and scarfed down two of them. She planned to go straight to the talk. She’d told Colton about it, but he’d said he had plans.
Her heart had sunk a little. Did he have a date? He was so vague about it. Dallas tried not to let her thoughts go there but she had to admit she was jealous.
Only a few more minutes and she’d leave. She glanced down at her outfit. The cargo pants, heavy sweater and combat boots might be a little unconventional for a professor, but she’d somehow made it work. At least none of the higher-ups had ever complained about them.
Even though she’d worn what she considered her “dress-up” clothes today—her tight black cargo pants instead of her baggy tan ones—she still looked like she’d just stumbled in from a dig. She was uncertain how the look would go over at a fancy museum talk.
Leaning over, she reached into a box on the floor and pulled out a wadded-up black blazer to throw on. She stripped off the heavy sweater, revealing the tank top underneath and tugged on the blazer. She unlaced her hiking boots, tossing them in a corner. After rummaging around through half a dozen boxes on the floor, she found what she was looking for. They were still boots, granted, but these babies had a three-inch-heel. They said, “I’m sexy and I can kick your butt!” she thought.
After taking her hair down out of its signature ponytail and finger combing it into submission, she swiped a slash of pink lipstick onto her lips. Looking into the bathroom mirror on the way out of the building, Dallas smiled. She was ready to go.
She closed her office door with a thud. She’d return the next day and straighten up the small tornado that she’d created over the past semester. It was her ritual during break. She’d finally have time to get organized. Usually as soon as she did, the new semester was ready to start up again, but that was okay.
The reading was held in a small room on the second floor of the museum. She was directed to the elevator, but she took the stairs. Always take the stairs! She reminded herself. Then she suddenly grew sad. Would she always feel like the overweight girl who had to be on guard and give herself pep talks? She pulled her shoulders back. No. She was powerful. Strong. Healthy. Taking the stairs kept her that way. That was all.
Traffic had been hellish and she
