“Hi. I’ll have two ciders, and I’m wondering if you can help me with something. I’m looking for an English lit professor who lives around here. His name is Paul Davenport, and I’m trying to get in touch with him for an article I’m writing about the university.”
The man pauses for a moment, astutely looking me over as I pray that my performance was convincing. A few seconds later, his shoulders relax as he reaches for two pint glasses.
“Well, Paul lives a ways down the road. Maybe fifth house on the left? He has the white fence and the big garden.”
Did that just happen?
“Wow, that’s amazing. Thank you so much,” I all but sputter.
“Of course, you won’t find him there now if you go looking.”
“I won’t?” I ask, feeling a quick stab of disappointment. I knew it couldn’t be this easy. “Why not?”
The man slides me my ciders with an expert push.
“Because he’s sitting just outside.”
18
“Act normal,” I tell Liam, stepping so close in front of him that we’re only a foot apart. “I need you to act completely normal, because Paul is sitting right over there.”
Liam’s eyes bulge for a moment before he trains his features back to a relatively neutral expression. “Sitting where?”
“Behind my right shoulder, reading a book.”
Liam instantly looks over my shoulder and keeps his gaze there for several seconds. “He seems very studious. He looks like the type that writes math equations on library windows with chalk. Is that what they’re using when they do that in movies? Chalk? I never really thought about it before.”
I grab his hand to get him to refocus on me. “I don’t know. I was a theater major, Liam. I didn’t exactly hang out with many genius mathematicians.”
“Of course not.” He gives another glance over my shoulder and then back at me. “So, what’s your plan of attack? Are you going over?”
“Yes, I’m going over. I’m just taking a second to get my bearings. I don’t want to blow it.”
“Shall I go over first? He might be more trusting of me since I’m a fellow Englishman.”
That gets my attention. Fearless as I like to think I am, I suddenly feel intensely apprehensive. “If that’s what you want to do, then sure.”
“Really? I honestly only asked because I thought you’d say no.”
“No, I’m good with you going first.”
“Right,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “Okay, no problem. I’m taking Ollie over with me so I seem more relatable.”
“A wonderful idea.”
“Excellent. Here I go, then.” Liam readjusts his grip on Ollie’s leash and walks around me with a deep breath. I casually turn to look off to the side while clandestinely keeping an eye on him.
I watch as Liam boldly approaches the picnic table. I watch as he gestures hello. I watch as Paul looks up. And then I watch as Liam turns on his heels and walks away as if he’s confused and is now looking for someone else. I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t too busy silently laughing at how perfectly on-brand a move that was for him.
I can’t believe I’m falling for such a weirdo.
That last thought sends a panicked jolt through me, strong enough that I walk directly over to Paul instead of standing still to think about what it means.
So that’s how I end up in front of the picnic table, looking down as Paul slowly gazes up from his book. The sun is facing me, going into my eyes a bit, but I can still make out his gray/auburn hair as well as his deep brown eyes. He’s wearing a light blue button-down shirt and khaki-colored slacks, looking every bit like the professor enjoying his downtime that he is. He’s handsome but not overly so—handsome enough that if a movie was being made about his life, he could possibly play himself.
“Hi,” I squeak out, inwardly hoping that he likes me.
“Hello,” he answers. His voice is soothing and steady, and I immediately think he’d be a marvelous audiobook narrator, which is my latest addiction in consuming fiction. I just stand there then, grinning like an idiot as Paul goes on. “Can you I help you with something?”
