Page 35 of Scarred King
“Is everything all right?” he asks and I blush.
“Everything’s great.” I enter the room before he notices the dramatic change in the color of my face.
He sits down next to me and I’m sickened by the horror show that is unfolding before my eyes. These smart, impressive women are actually tripping over each other in order to get a seat next to his. An attractive woman who looks in her forties wins, and sits down next to him, blushing. She introduces herself and starts talking relentlessly, and I squirm in my seat with embarrassment at her behavior. I’m starting to worry that one of these women will attract his attention. For a moment I allow myself to think of a small chance that he will notice me as a woman, and not just a student blinded by admiration for her teacher. But I'm aware that this is nothing but a sweet illusion.
“How about we go to a café this evening?” She plays with her bangs. “I’d love to consult with you on a few questions I have, and apparently it’s really hard to set up meetings with you this semester.”
“I’d love to,” he answers, and I feel as if I’ve just been punched in the stomach. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to during the conference,” he continues casually. She looks so disappointed, which makes me do imaginary backflips in the air. “I’ll be spending my evenings making sure my research assistant has understood all the topics discussed here,” he explains, and the backflips turn into a dancing. He pulls out a business card and hands it to her. “Talk to my teaching assistant, she’ll set up a meeting on campus during the semester break.” The woman takes the card and nods, she doesn’t say a word to him after that.
We leave the last panel and I rub my eyes.
“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” he smiles as we walk to the elevator. "Do you want to eat in the dining room, or would you like to freshen up and go out to eat at one of the cafés in the city in about an hour?”
His question catches me off-guard. I stare at him awkwardly, trying to figure out if I’m imagining things or if he really just asked that question.
“Elena,” he wrinkles his forehead in concern, “are you all right?”
“Yes, yes,” I pull myself together. “I’d be happy to get out of the hotel for a while.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he laughs.
“Should I bring my laptop?”
“No!” he cries. “We need to clear our heads after all that information that was thrown at us today.”
“I thought you wanted to make sure that I understood everything…”
“I’m sure you did,” he cuts me off and winks.
This is absolutely perfect.
We decide to meet in an hour by the desk in the lobby and I enter my room and go straight to the shower, washing off all the day’s tension. I come back out into my room and find myself looking at my body in the mirror yearning to feel more like a woman and less like a little girl. I have no illusions; his invitation is only an innocent and kind one. But I do have a chance to spend some time alone with him now. Completely alone. And this is a great opportunity to find out whether he is really the ideal man that I’ve constructed in my head.
I brush my long hair and braid it, put on the tight pink maxi dress that Johanna shoved in my luggage and slip on some ballerina flats. My voluptuous, womanly body doesn’t match the girlish look of my long braid. I wind it into a large bun above my neck and fasten it with bobby pins. Now my neck looks long and feminine, my cheekbones stand out. It’s amazing how such a small change can create such a different look. I outline my eyes with black eyeliner and put on some transparent lip-gloss. Not bad. I smile at myself and leave the room to the lobby.
“I’m ready,” I say smiling to the handsome man in a black button-down shirt and light jeans.
He looks at me so surprised, as if he is seeing me for the first time.
“Am I overdressed?” I ask and blush.
He shakes his head no. “You look wonderful.”
His compliment makes my head spin. I feel as if I’m floating in a sweet dream. We take a cab downtown and every once in a while, I feel him studying me.
The cab driver stops in front of a small café, and the professor places his hand gently on my back and steers me towards a small table on the patio. His touch is so delicate and pleasant, and I nervously wait for the shivers I feel every time Scarface comes near me. It’s coming, I tell myself confidently and sit down in the chair he’s pulled out for me.
“Elena, I think this would be a good time for you to start telling me about yourself,” he leans back in his seat and looks at me curiously.
“There’s nothing interesting to tell,” I say while I look at the menu.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
The waitress approaches and he points at the wine that he’s selected from the menu.
“OK,” I give up, “I was born and raised in Houston, Texas. When I was about fifteen, I discovered the world of physics. Since then that’s been my whole life and as you may have noticed, I‘m very objective-oriented.”
He pours the wine that the waitress had brought into our glasses. “And what exactly is your objective?” he asks.