The Professor

Chapter 4: Tom

Keeping my mind focused on my job and studies has been tougher than I care to admit lately as memories of my day out with the professor often slip into my thoughts. He was so kind and gentle. I close my eyes and can almost feel his long fingers delicately brush my arm in an attempt to soothe the burns. His hand grips mine as he leads me to the table, his own agenda replaced by concern for me and my wellbeing. My heart races recalling him carrying me in his strong arms as he threatened to toss me into the ocean. I bite my lip as I remember his smile at me from across the table at dinner. I can't believe it's already been almost 3 weeks since then. Our relationship has continued to grow- the late nights have grown later, the paperwork- more abundant, and the time spent- exponential. He exhibits such great care but balances it with the need and desire for me to excel in my studies. He even encouraged me to apply for the Foreign Exchange Program- which I was accepted to but haven't had the time to tell him yet- mostly because I didn't want to leave him.

"Earth to Y/N," John says just as hot espresso overfills the cup I'm holding, scorching my hand.

"Shit!" I yelp, dropping the cup causing it to shatter on the floor. "I'm sorry, John." I shake my head and apologize to the customer before heading to the back to get a broom and mop.

I finally, at the advice of Mr. Thomas, sat down with John the day after we got back. We cleared the air and he has been much more supportive. He still is not overly fond of Mr. Thomas but he tries. I've been picking up a couple shifts throughout the last few weeks which has helped our friendship improve. If he has noticed me being somewhat distracted, he has not mentioned it.

"What has been up with you lately?" John asks as I walk out to clean up my mess. (Well so much for not mentioning it.)

I shrug in denial, "What do you mean?" I bend down as he stoops as well to help pick up the large pieces of the broken cup.

"You haven't been yourself since about the time you took off for your American Thanksgiving..." his hand brushes mine before I pull back slightly.

"Come on Y/N, I just want to make sure you're alright," he offers that small smile I have missed so dearly.

"Thanks, John, I'm ok. Really! I promise," I rest my hand reassuringly on his large shoulder.

He nods, "I'll take care of the rest of this." He nods to the counter, "You help the customers."

I smile and spend the remainder of my shift working the counter. When the coffee shop closes, I hang up my apron and pull on my jacket. I pull on my cap and gloves as London decided to bless us with a flurry of snow today and yesterday.

"Bye, John! See you next week!" I call out, making my way to the door.

"Hey wait! Mind if I walk with you?" He asks, jogging to catch up.

"Come on," I smile. I really don't mind. He's walked me there almost every time I've worked since we made up.

He rushes to put on his own layers before we make our way out into the windy, snowy day. The wind is so ferocious, it whips my hair and stings my face. I can see the tip of my nose growing red as we quickly cross the quad. As usual, we cut through the Business building that offers a short reprieve from the harsh weather. Making our way back outside, I feel John slip his arm around me and pull me closer to him. I can't even object as every part of me is shivering and his warmth is most welcome.

We finally make it into the Arts building, and every part of me is almost frozen. I tremble lightly as the heat from the building slowly starts to seep through my clothes and into my skin as we walk. John has loosened his grip but allows his arm to remain around my shoulders as we walk.