“Jeez. Are you going to zone out like that all year?” Katelyn laughs beside me as she squeezes her notebook into her beige tote bag. She has it decked out in pins that describe her to her core. Judging off her bag alone, you’ll know she’s a Fleetwood Mac-loving, raging bisexual, who adores black cats and mushrooms.
“I hope not,” I admit. I slowly pack up my things as the rest of the students in this auditorium do the same around us. “It’ll take some getting used to this long-distance thing.”
I’ve always been stellar at schoolwork. I can’t let it slip now. Not when he’s so proud of me. I love making him proud of me.
…dammit.
There goes my mind again.
“Thorne. A word?”
My stomach drops at the sound of my name being spoken by none other than Professor Flux. With a curl of her long, dark burgundy painted finger, she beckons me down to her desk.
I gulp, looking back up at Katelyn, who shares my sentiment. With a worried look, she shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll catch you in the quad for dinner?” She asks, shuffling past me.
“Yeah, I’ll text you later.”
I squeeze out of my seat, shifting my bag properly up on my shoulder. The lecture hall is now empty leaving Professor Flux and me, alone.
I make my way over to her desk and awkwardly shift on my feet once I stand there for a couple of seconds without her saying anything. Instead, she clicks on some tabs on her desktop screen.
I take this moment to look at her. She’s honestly a striking woman. Her short blunt black hair has grown to her shoulders since the last time I’ve seen her. She resembles a panther with her sharp feline eyes. I watch as her eyes scan the screen. She must be no older than mid-40’s, maybe late. Incredibly, she has accomplished so much at such a young age.
She clasps her hands together on her desk, making me swallow harshly. “Mr. Throne. I’ve been hoping to get a chance to chat with you.”
“Oh?” I breathe.
Did I do something wrong? It’s only been a week.
She gives me a once-over with her piercing eyes as she taps the back of her hand with her long nails.
“I’ve been excited to see you again since the art show at your high school. You impressed me a lot that night.”
I blink rapidly, trying to piece together what she’s telling me. “Yourememberthat? I feel like I was just a kid then.” I scratch the back of my neck underneath my hair, suddenly feeling hot.
She gives a soft-hearted laugh. “Take it as a compliment. It’s not usual that a piece of art speaks to me like yours did. To communicate such depth at such a young age. It was impressive.” She leans back in her chair, eyeing me over again. “Most students would never think to stitch their own face into the art like that, butyoudid—and it worked. You took a risk and it paid off.”
A breath of air leaves my chest. Such an intimidating woman feeding me so many compliments? I can’t believe it. This can’t be real.
“This type of experimentation is what pushes art forward, and you knew how to do this at the mere age of onlyseventeen. It reminds me a lot of…” A flicker of something passes over her face. It’s gone before I can capture it. She looks back at me, emotion suddenly in her eyes. “I’m interested to see what you’re going to bring forward in this class.” She nods.
I open my mouth, but no sounds come out. I’m stunned. Speechless.
“Professor, I–”
“I called you down here today because I want you to know I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.” She props her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and turns back to her computer. “I’ll be looking for an assistant in the coming few weeks and I truly think you’d be a strong contender for the position.”
My eyes go wide. “Wow, Professor, I’m so honored that you…” My voice trails off as I realize she’s begun typing.
Well.
Guess, I’m dismissed.
***
I close the door to my dorm room and throw my book bag on the ground beside my desk before flopping face-first on my bed.
Taking a mini moment to just scream excitedly into my pillow, I pull out my phone and press my top contact.
