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Alarik's expression returned to the one I was used to seeing. Calm, warm, inviting...

He took off his glasses.

“You don't have to be sorry,” he said, smiling wearily. “I'm the one who can't handle compliments. But maybe that's because I usually keep my poems to myself and leave the field open for the students.”

Wait... He had a hard time accepting compliments?

I tried not to look too confused, to hide my disbelieving smile.

“That's a shame,” I said, wondering if he wrote regularly. “This poem is really beautiful.”

Alarik stared down at the poem, swallowed almost imperceptibly, and rubbed his temple.

“Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, he got up to put the essays in a folder.

“What brings you to me?”

I felt the blush rising to my cheeks, unsure if it was really a good idea to drag him into this.

“You're busy.”

The right corner of his mouth moved up as he looked down at his leather bag, into which he was trying to squeeze his folders, and I knew just by watching that some of the essays peeking out would get creased.

I fought hard against the amused smile.

“And you seem to have something on your mind.”

I quickly smoothed my expression. Then I finally plucked up the courage.

“Do you have a moment?”

He took his time answering, slung the bag over his right shoulder, and looked up before the corners of his mouth turned upward.

“As much time as you need.” Relief, followed by a new wave of nervousness. “Let me just quickly take my things to the office.”

Revolving Door

Abel Korzeniowski

“What are we doing here?” I asked, staring through the overgrown and somewhat dilapidated courtyard where I had discovered that werewolves existed.

“Are you ready for a little adventure?” Alarik said with a smile before turning his gaze away from me, pushing his long brown felt coat back with both hands to slip them into the pockets of his navy-blue suit pants, and eventually striding across the courtyard into the open colonnade that surrounded it. He came to a halt in front of a wall overgrown with ivy.

At first, I stared at the man with the tousled brown hair and three-day beard. Then I looked at the wall, confused, and stepped up beside him.

“Depends on whether I come back alive.”

The amused smile that played around his lips as he looked at me deepened. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“Do you trust me?”

If there was anyone on this godforsaken island I still trusted, it was him. He was the only one who hadn't lied to me, disappeared out of the blue, or dragged me into all kinds of trouble.

I loved Larissa, but sometimes I wished I had a schedule telling me what reckless adventure I was going to get myself into next.

“Do I have a choice?”