profpreston

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

Esmeralda felt like she was thrown back to high school, with her colorful cue cards that she carried everywhere she went. She read them in the subway, on her way to her class, while waiting at the history department to meet with her professors; she did all of that until she finally learned the words by heart. A greeting, a compliment to make his daughter feel at ease and smile and then she would recite the special order and assign them a table as if it was a fancy restaurant. In her mind, everything would go well: she would get along instantly around the kid, she would make the most delicious grilled cheese and she would control the butterflies that were running around in her stomach like a tornado ever since they ended their coffee break. Her heart started racing when he sent a formal email reminding about the homework and every time she walked passed the café they went to, the memories would hit her right in her face: his smile, his eyes, his voice, his interest.

Unlike most professors who, which was comprehensible, did not care one bit about their students or anyone they had to talk to whose IQ was half of theirs, James was interested. He listened to her awkward rambling, he made sure she was not crumbling under the weight of her bags, he responded to her clumsy attempts at flirting. He was interested in being there with her and all she hoped was for him to still be interested in her, but certainly in her meeting his daughter. Because, the dark haired girl was. She loved kids and she was already convinced his would be the cutest. Something was overshadowing her excitement, however. It was a big deal, right? Or was it something casual? She had to keep an eye on one of her professor’s twin sons last semester, but it was just to help. She never met with him outside of the class after that one time he was arrogant towards her, so the experiences were not even comparable. Still, meeting kids were a big deal. They seemed like it in movies and books and she wanted it to go well. They planned a third meeting the week later and she was already looking forward to it, so blowing up the chances of learning more about him was not an option.

One of her co-worker, Jenni, bumped her gently when a man and a small girl holding his hand stood in front of the counter. Esmée was not the type to expose her personal life and acquaintances to all audiences, but she made sure no other employee would get in the way of bringing what she rehearsed to reality, as if it was the last time she’d ever have to speak that language she loved so much. “Bon matin, mademoiselle!” She went on the tip of her toes so she would lean on the counter far enough to look at the girl and not be too high for her. “Je m’appelle Esmée et je vais vous servir aujourd’hui,” So far, so good. She looked up at James and he seemed fine, on the outside that was for sure. “Tu as une très jolie robe!” Suddenly, her compliment sounded stupid: complimenting a child on her outfit, that felt so wrong, but not as wrong as saying she had her father’s eyes. One, that would prove Esmeralda paid way too much attention to his features and two, she probably heard it a hundred times. “La rumeur court que je fais de très bon grilled cheese. Et que… I draw cute bears on hot chocolate too.” Her cheeks flustered when she gave up on the fancy, French accent. The kid was actually responding well to her almost overly enthusiastic voice tone. “Would you like to have that and a giant cookie along? Only if the dad’s fine too with such a delicious breakfast, of course.” Portia nodded, shyly and looked up to her father, the student did the same.

She had a hard time reading his expression: was he happy that she took this informal homework so seriously, was he proud, perhaps? Or was he embarrassed by the fact she spoke to his kid the same way she would do to a tiny baby? Was she doing too much, not enough or did her rehearsals pay off? Esmeralda smiled at him with all the warmth and courage she could gather, trying to hide the fact she was so nervous of ruining this. She handled nerves well, usually, but those nerves never involved meeting someone’s child, and definitely not someone she appreciated that much. It only started and it felt like it would not be a Saturday like any others that she spent greeting random clients. “Attendez-moi tous les deux à la table au fond. The one with the coloring book and crayons.” She stretched her arm over the glass platter of carrot cakes and lemon pie slices, so she would point at a table for four that was not completely in the sun, but not in the darkness either. “I’ll be there with your food right after I take your dad’s order.”

Raising a child wasn’t something that James had thought would be included in his life. Of course, then he met his wife and having Portia was definitely on the table. It was when she was born that he realized how much he loved children, how much he wanted more of them, and how insanely fulfilling being a father was. Portia had grown into a smart, silly, outgoing little girl and it was the pride of James Preston’s life. Many would guess that his PhD would top it, but it didn’t even come close. The wily monster he called his daughter simply made everything make sense. He lived his life for her, created a comfortable habitat for her, and never once did anything that might put her in danger. Harmless flirting with a student aside, every decision was for Portia. It was just the way he lived. When her mother passed away, it gave an entirely new layer to their relationship. Poppy and James were now a power duo who took on anything that came their way with wonder in their eyes. 

In the back of his head these days, though, Esmeralda’s gorgeous visage sat on replay. Memories of her laughter, of her delicate presence and their undeniable chemistry seemed to haunt him with every action her took. A ghost he’d welcome any day of the week. How many times had his hands itched to send her a single email just to talk about French homework or ask if she had any questions for him? There was just not a chance for him to give her his phone number and he wasn’t quite sure that doing so was appropriate, but alas, it was hard to hold his thoughts back. Still buzzing with the idea of buying her a new perfume to wear when she thought of him, James had to force himself to hold all of these things back. 

“Portia,” James called over to his daughter, who was running her tiny fingertips over flowers that lined the outside of Peet’s Coffee Shop. The little girl was easily distracted, she was young and it was Saturday, James wouldn’t fault her for admiring the world’s creations, he was just eager to see Esmeralda again. So eager. “Papa, do you think I could get an espresso?” the little girl asked as they entered the shop and James chuckled softly. “An espresso? Are you suddenly 18 years old?” he joked with her, holding her hand as they approached the counter, James’s breath hitching at the sight of Esmée, even if only from behind. When she looked over the counter at Portia, he simply let the two interact. It wasn’t a test, there was no grade she’d be getting on her French and James just smiled. Her French wasn’t bad at all, but her eyes pulled him in even more. “Tu es si jolie!” Portia gasped excitedly, looking up at her father before tugging at his hand and looking back at Esmée. This caused him to laugh a little and shake his head at the girl. “You can draw a bear on my chocolat chaud?” the little girl dramatically dropped her jaw and bounced excitedly on her feet. This was almost a little too adorable. It seemed that Portia became a little embarrassed by herself as she got closer to James. 

“A cookie? Only if you share,” James spoke for the first time, tapping her nose lightly and nudging her to go to the table that Esmée had pointed to. “Allez, maintenant.” He spoke softly before turning to Esmeralda. He could already smell her perfume, which only made his desire to kiss her all the greater. It was hard to hold back when she was just standing there with those perfectly shaped lips and that passion to do everything at her best. Licking his lips, he smiled slowly. “You’re quite adorable when you speak French to my daughter,” he spoke softly, looking into her eyes. God, those eyes. “If there was a way to pay for you to sit with us, that’s what my order would be, but an Americano will wake me up enough to not just stare at you from my seat,” James spoke honestly, his need to look at her grew each time he saw her. “You look exceptional today, Esmeralda.”

Un samedi pas comme les autres

#ftf: 002 #ftf: un samedi pas comme les autres

[profpreston]

If They Only Knew

#(( this is SO FREAKING CUTE )) #ftf: 001 #ftf: if they only knew #ftf: 001 end

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

“Oh?” That was the only sound she could make when he blatantly stole the words out of her mind. She knew from the first words they exchanged that he would be sticking around in her thoughts for quite a long time, but she did not even consider the idea that it was a mutual thing. He was out of her league, as one could say. And it had nothing to do with the age issue, although it was really not one for her, he was simply too good for someone like her. Once Esmée convinced herself of that, she swept away the chances of having any reciprocity going on. Indeed, he was there, with her, but it was still a surprise.  His attraction to her, this was a concept she liked. “Only a gentleman would lie to defend a girl, it’s appreciated.” Though, he would need serious innate acting skills to make up for the fact that she would turn into the most awkward person if she was asked about him, about them. If there was even a them, at such an early point. “Let me be honest, the only thing you would learn is that I did not work hard enough in kindergarten to remember the alphabet in the right order, let alone telling it in a third language.” She added a soft chuckle. The alphabet was easy to most kids, but she had to learn on her own most of the time and on the rare occasions her parents could help her out, they would do it in Spanish, so reciting twenty-six letters became a little more confusing when she had to play around with three languages.

Esmeralda was already excited to meet his daughter, but even more now that it seemed like another opportunity for her to show what she knew, or what she would learn by heart as many times as possible so she would get it right when they would show up to the counter. “I didn’t know I would get extra assignments!” She pretended to act offended, but it did not last for very long. The forced frown switched back to that same, big smile she probably had on from the moment she recognized him standing by the front desk in the class. “But this is for the best of cause so I’ll do my homework, professor.” It was her time to give him a flirtatious wink. She put the emphasis on the last word of her sentence in a joking manner, because, it was now clear that there was more than just a scholar bond between them. She believed it was possible to grow a friendship out of a strictly scholar relationship in which a teacher would work as a guide and adviser to a student, but they did not even start that way. And they probably would never be like that. There were few differences between their conversation now and the one they shared yesterday, it was easy and lovely. She caught herself hoping it would never change.

“I bragged about being honest, so it would make me a hypocrite if I denied that, right?” She moved her hand up as she spoke. “Anyone could objectively point out your attractiveness, after all, as a fact.” Knowing her, it could escalate quickly into the awkward zone if she kept bringing up the topic of his looks. James was handsome, but this was not a good reason to act like it mattered more than any other thing about him, than his interest in whatever she was saying and than his glow of happiness when he spoke about his kid. To her, these two things along made the feelings of fireworks in her stomach grow bigger. She could not deny that she was complimenting him, but she could not deny that she would have loved for her hand to be in the place of his cup of coffee…

Thank God, she let out an inaudible sigh of relief when he asked her about her schedule for the week. It drifted her mind away from her sudden urge to figure out what it felt to have his hand in hers, like the couple who were sitting a few tables away from them. “I’m trying to fit in thirty hours this week, but…” She made a wiser choice this semester: she would work hard on the first two or three weeks so she could keep some hours in bank for when the deadlines will come at her like an angry client who found his iced latté too icy. “Friday night sounds perfect.” And he could cook too? There had to be a problem with him somewhere, he simply could not be that big of a deal… Or he just was, compared to immature boys in political science and her coworkers at the café. “I have a French history class on Wednesday afternoon, we could meet here again around noon, if you’d like. And if you’re available, of course!” She was looking forward to this day due to this class about the government of Vichy when France was under the nazi dictatorship, but the thought of seeing him again, even if it was for a couple of minutes only, made her look forward to it even more.

She forgot about time, about the dishes waiting for her in the sink and the empty fridge that needed to be filled. She forgot about it all until she noticed that he looked at his watch. Esmée had no idea for how long they had been there, sitting and chatting, but it was not long enough. It would never be long enough. “We could get going, if you have others things to do.” She assured him, giving him a warm grin. “I’m sure there’s a little girl who’d be happy to use the caffeine rush to create a wonderful story with her toys and dolls,” she nodded firmly, trying to prove him that she did not mind if he had to take off. “And there’s another girl right here who has a date with Google Translate to learn the formalities of a French speaking barista.”

Sitting in front of a young woman with as bright of a future as Esmeralda’s was possibly one of the best parts of being a professor. You work so tirelessly to inhale the knowledge you’ll need to know forever over a course of five years to get your PhD and the best part is not being knowledgeable. The best part is watching. Watching young women and men grow into these intelligent, self-aware, self-sufficient human beings. Watching this young woman – this brilliant young woman, grow into an even more miraculous version of herself. That’s why he did this and well, his apparent feelings for her weren’t helping his desire for it either. “Perhaps Portia can refresh your alphabet,” he laughed softly, wondering how Esmeralda could be getting more adorable by the minute. Kindergarten was quite some time ago, but the story was still relevant. Something he’d noticed the night before was how the two just moved from one topic to the next, never quite needing much to propel them forward. James was a sucker for a girl who made it easy. “A third language?” he asked – he could have guessed that she knew Spanish, but what kind of gentleman, as Esmee would say, did that?

The most genuine chuckle left James’s mouth, hand moving up to cover his mouth. What sort of joke was the universe playing on him? This girl was beyond miraculous – her commitment to working, her commitment to school, and apparently her commitment to fauz-freaking out. The humor was something he’d missed. His wife had been particularly wonderful at making him laugh so hard he almost lost control. There were moments of his life that felt so dark and despondent, but with women who could make you laugh so purely – who could complain? Not James. At least, he wouldn’t. When his wife died, Portia slipped into the humor role. The little girl was beyond hilarious and she made him smile so much, sometimes thoughts of his wife dissipated completely. Benefits to having a kid willing to put chopsticks in her mouth and be a walrus. “Trust me, Portia is better than I am at French, and that’s saying something,” he spoke easily, thumb running over where his mouth had just been on his coffee. “If you keep looking at me like that,

“So, you’re telling me you’re flirting with me, but that anyone could easily do so?” James was simply teasing the girl. It seemed to him that she might be easily flustered and doing so twice in a row was probably a bit much. He couldn’t help himself, though. She was so entirely amazing at pulling him in.

Schedules were probably messy for each of them. He taught often and advised a few PhD students – nothing too crazy. But when you add in having a child who craves your attention and then meetings with coworkers, it only got crazier. He could only imagine how Esmee’s must look with trying to fit 30 hours of work into a week while being in school full time. It was definitely one of the most attractive things about her. Pulling his phone out, smile ever present on his face with the younger woman around, James pulled open his calendar, adding Friday night into it. “Wednesday at noon…” he spoke aloud, narrowing his eyes at the phone. “12:30? I could do 12:30,” he smiled, looking up at her before adding it into his calendar. Not that he wouldn’t remember. He was pretty certain that anything to do with the woman would cause him to remember it. Already having three more times where he’d get to see her made him feel giddy inside.

James ran his fingers over his beard as he smiled, eyes looking up to meet hers. Did he want to leave? Not at all. Should he? Probably. There was a faculty meeting he’d need to be at in fifteen minutes and he could easily sit here for a few more hours with her. “Believe me when I say this,” he paused, reaching forward to lightly touch her hand. “I’d much rather be sitting here and enjoying your company than venturing to this meeting, but duty calls,” James pulled his hand back, slowly rising to stand and adjust his shirt. “Don’t blindly trust Google Translate, Esmeralda. I had a student write his paper in English and just google translate the entire thing to French… that was an interesting grading experience,” he laughed, moving to pull his bag onto his shoulder and take his cup of coffee. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. The last thing. “Je ne te dirai jamais au revoir, seulement à plus tard. Prends soin,” his French poured from his mouth, eyes lingering a little too long before he turned to leave and find his way to his next meeting. Had they been anywhere away from campus… he just may have kissed the girl.

If They Only Knew

#ftf: 001 #ftf: if they only knew

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

“I might be playing strategic, but at least I am doing it with honesty. That way, no one can blame me!” Playfully, she shrugged her shoulders. Historical essays were far from being the easiest idea she could suggest, words had to be chosen carefully to avoid subjectivity and English terms rarely matched with the French ones. The modern era was the best example of it. Her professor was a French historian, specialized in the kingdom of Spain during the 1500s and 1600s, and whenever she tried to categorize events and time into specific periods, it never made sense. There were differences in English between the early era and the rest that did not exist in the other language and it only made the researches harder. It would be a lie to admit Esmeralda loved this extra challenge, and loved the grade she got later on. It was one of the only classes she could keep up with, but it paid off. “Expect nothing else than that. But, let me tell you I am pretty sure I have nothing to teach to, well, a teacher.” Of course she was not the worst student, but she still had a lot more to learn than he did.

“I work at Peet’s coffee shop, not far from the faculty and on most evenings and every Saturdays. I’ll make her the best grilled cheese sandwich with some brie and green apples. And she’ll definitely get the cutest shape of bear on her hot chocolate, unless mademoiselle prefers a double espresso. Anything but yelling.” She looked towards the windows for a short moment, hoping the view of yellow taxi cabs and other cars would stop her from thinking of… It was too late, she was already picturing the moment when he would step in the restaurant. The sun would be slowly falling down, leaving shades of all the colors on the sky instead. The place would be almost empty before the evening rush and the other employees would be busy outside, smoking or chatting in the kitchen so it would only be the three of them. This movie scenario was hard to brush away only with the view of cars at a red light. “Never in my life a kid has been in a bad mood around me, so I am pretty sure Portia will not be the first with all the food she’ll get.” She was looking forward to meet her, to see him again.

Esmeralda swallowed the sip of coffee a little too fast when she heard his comment, surprised that he, too, seemed to look forward to meeting again. “And I would definitely not mind to bring that to life.” At the exception of paying bills, she liked to live one day at a time. She liked to enjoy what the present held and be surprised by the next day, but it was different with him. They were not even done with their coffee that she wanted to make him one. They were not even done with their conversation that she wanted to talk about hundreds of other things. Why did he choose this subject, this city, this college? Why was he so nice with her, why did he remember her? Why was he spending time with her and not doing whatever a professor with a child did on a free afternoon? On top of all of those questions that were better left unanswered for now, she wanted to know if he enjoyed their moment as much as she did. Something was so captivating about him, not just his looks, but his story, his words, his voice. It could make all of her worries disappear for a moment, actually, it did.

She was far from expecting him to explain some personal stories. He could have given her a short and simple answer to express that this topic was not welcome, but the opposite happened. There was a sparkle in his eyes that made her feel like butterflies were being released in her stomach. He spoke with excitement and joy about his daughter and she listened closely. At some point, she leaned her elbows on the table and set gently her head on her hands that were being crossed. Her smile only grew bigger when he apologized: why was he doing so, after all? There were very few things as pure and adorable as a parent speaking about their child. It only made her want to stay longer, to learn more about him and to see his face light up the way it did. “As if you had to fear of being unattractive…” Esmée chuckled lightly before sipping from her cup that she set down so she could take another bite of the croissant. He was sculpted by Zeus and which made Apollo look like any average guys around, and this was something she could not get out of her mind. “In fact…” She marked a short pause so she could clean her fingers from the crumbs of buttery bread. “It has the opposite effect.”

Working in public meant she came across plenty of strangers who were blessed by the gods to work the sunlight, or even the neon lights of the shop, perfectly, but they could never compare with James. When they arrived to the counter, they were either rude of impatient, while he was kind and wore a smile on his face. The clients never bothered talking with her even if she was cleaning the table only a meter away, while he made sure she spoke more than he did during the previous night. It only took the older man two short days to make her feel like she was a little bit special and, deeply, she was glad he was the one who managed to do such a thing. “The night was not that rough, but… I don’t really remember telling you that on our way out yesterday, but it was one of the best evenings I’ve had in a while. A long while. And I wanted to thank you for that, and for now too.” Esmée let her fingers run around the lid of her cup, which was pretty much empty. She cleared her throat quickly, narrowing her eyes a little when she glanced up at him. “If complimenting my perfume isn’t that inappropriate, does that mean hoping to spend more time with you soon is acceptable?”

“Should anyone accuse you of taking advantage of my attraction to you, I will happily lie and tell them you didn’t,” James winked. It wasn’t that he was serious, nor did he think anyone would ever be ballsy enough to point out any sort of connection between the two of them, he just wanted to point out that he was, indeed, attracted to her. The thing about being a professor was that others thought you were well rounded. Sure, his specialty was in the French language. It wasn’t in anything else that had to do with France – he did have knowledge of the history and things of the sort. Often he’d get questions from students asking him about the English language and how American history lined up with that of the UK’s and he’d just look at them like they were stupid. Sure, he was a French teacher, but Esmeralda could teach him about almost anything, as far as he was concerned. “You could recite the alphabet in French and I’d learn something new,” he winked, unable to contain his desire for her.

“A very French grilled cheese. I’ll have her order in French, too. It’ll help both of you learn a little more of the language,” James grinned, his thumb moving over his jaw for just a moment. Habits die hard when you were his age. Or well, when you were old, as he often got from his students. “We will see you on Saturday, then,” he couldn’t help himself. This girl seemed to think that life was just full of the best things and his flirtatious nature wasn’t going over her head. He hoped she knew he didn’t do this with other students. There was no reason for him to risk his passion for teaching and French for a girl. At least, he didn’t think there ever had been. But maybe now. Maybe… Was this how it started? The cliché professor and student? With chemistry and a mind connection? He wasn’t sure.

Watching her intently, it was clear that she was a calculated person. Wiping her hands off, slowly her speech when needed – so different from other women her age – girls her age. And much different from the wife he’d lost a few years ago. She had been wild and free, always forgetting her wallet and driving to the wrong restaurant. Maybe that’s why it was so comforting to him. Esmee seemed to have herself organized and more together. Something that would forever keep him interested. “Are you flirting with me, Ms. Trevino?” James joked softly, he’d been doing the same since they left the classroom. It was interesting that she found him to be handsome enough to not have to worry about his looks. That he was good looking to such a young woman was shocking to him.

“It’s easy with you, Esmee,” he admitted, shifting slightly in his chair as he took another drink of his coffee. There was something so free flowing about their conversations. In fact, he didn’t feel like he had to try to be anyone but himself for a change. The smile on the professor’s face couldn’t be masked. She’d just asked to see him again, which was one of the only things running through his mind. Saturday would be fine for a momentary drop in with Portia, but maybe… “What is your work schedule like this week?” he wanted to be mindful. “I could make you dinner on Friday night – if you’re comfortable with that. We can also meet for coffee once more, if that’s easier. Ton choix,” he quipped, setting his coffee down before taking a glance at his watch. He could always use more time with her.

If They Only Knew

#ftf: if they only knew #ftf: 001

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

When James said it would be more difficult, she could not help but press her lips together as the thought of not understanding a single word haunted her. It seemed like she did well previously, but during the short periods of time where she was not staring at him and daydreaming about their encounter, she did notice that the level of the class was higher. Higher than what she could expect from herself, considering she only recently learned this language, compared to most students who already spoke it. She knew she would have to work hard to keep up with them, and with him, and it was that exact challenge that made her go through quite a process only to trade an optional class for a language one. He added that would include to his class anything she wanted, he said, and obviously this would make her feel so much better if it was something she knew about. “We’re going to write in this class too, huh? So how about a writing task that involves historical content? At least I’ll be sure to get that one right.” She had plenty of teachers who were forced to include history to their context or explanations and struggled miserably, as they only based their five minutes long research on the first lines of Wikipedia articles and were made fun of in front of the entire class. “I’d help you figuring something out, if you’d like.” She offered, out of generosity for sure, but also hoping it would be a decent pretext to spend more time with him.

Esmée chuckled softly at the mention of another occasion to run. To the question of what she was doing for a living, she simply answered she was trying to keep up with running from point a to point z all in one day. She did not expect him to remember that, which was no surprise as she believed he forgot about her until the very last minute when he said her name. “I’ll keep my run for later tonight, if you don’t mind. But, I would not be against a little help on the way back.” As she spoke, she shrugged one of her shoulders lightly. She was the type of person to help and not be helped, but he was impossible to resist. She always had a hard time saying no, but the fact that she was standing in line with him instead of working spoke by itself. “If you turned it to a certain angle, it was a bear, I swear!” It took her a little while to get what he said after the animal. His daughter? Maybe he mentioned about her the day before and this information faded away in her memory due to the quantity of alchool she had drunk, but she doubted it strongly. “I’m sure I could make a bear again for her, if you ever stop by while I’m working. I’d love to do that, actually.” She simply accepted it, there was nothing shameful in having a child and talking proudly about it, she saw his eyes sparkling when he brought her up. She was, in fact, glad to see he was comfortable enough to talk about her.

Her tooth bit into the inside of her cheek as his voice dropped of a few octaves. Esmeralda should have expected it when she replied, but she did not, at all. And the surprise of his voice and his desire to keep saying things like that was more than pleasant. “I think it’s worth the risk.” She leaned to the side, so she was a little closer to his ear to say, a grin on her lips, that before she went on with her order.She furrowed her eyebrows when she saw his arm, stretched towards the cashier before she could do the same to give out her money. Her eyes followed his hand as he took back his card and looked all the way up to his eyes, as if to make sure this really happened. “Thank you.” She mouthed, the gesture meant so much more than the casual behavior of a gentleman or the basics of treating any girl right. His offer would help her in more ways than he knew, although she would probably never tell him about her struggles. He complimented her humour, her perfume and smiled widely from the second they left the class room, she would, in no way, ruin that with small talk about her situation. She thought a little thanks would be enough.

“Tu n’es pas obligé.” Esmée told him, before she felt chills run through her arm as their hands touched when he gave back the coins. She felt his finger tips on her skin and this caused a stronger reaction than what she would have wanted. And it was probably showing, as the blushing from earlier had transformed into a goofy smile that she would struggle to get rid of. “I’ll keep in mind to spray some more next week to get your attention.” She dared to give him a small wink as she finally recovered the hability to move, which was unavailable from the moment their hands were in contact. She dropped her belongings on an empty chair besides them and sat in front of him, her hand holding firmly onto the cup of coffee like they did on the glass of cocktail less than twenty-four hours ago. She waited for him to settle down as well so she could start pulling on her croissants, unwrapping it gently like it was a present. It was the only way she would control herself from eating it in a few bites due to how hungry she became.

 “So, your daughter loves bears? Out of all the animals, she chose that? I like her already.” She was not sure why she came back to the bear conversation, although she had a feeling it was to distract her mind from that low voice again that would make her drop her coffee on the floor easily. But she was sure of wanting him to know it was not much of an issue. Her girl friends had a deep fear of children and used to make fun of guys on dating apps who would brag about having a family, but it was not her case. She liked kids and it made her feel almost special that he informed her about the existence of his daughter, something he did not mention in class when he was introducing himself. It was a difference, as she usually dealt with long speeches of her other, older professors who could not help but describe their family dynamic for a little bit too long, like knowing their teenager gave them a harder time than grading over than a hundred of essays within a week. 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Trevinos,” James spoke with a far from apologetic tone, pausing for just a moment. It wasn’t a true apology, it was him trying to be funny. “Are you trying to get me to pick a topic that will adhere to your strong suits? So that you’ll get a better grade?” he raised an eyebrow. He’d ace her right this second, but she didn’t have to know that. Besides, he knew that he had a teaching assistant and most of the grading went to her unless she couldn’t decide on a certain grade. French was a challenging language to learn at an older age. It was why he’d been teaching his daughter French, English, and Spanish since the day she was born. The larger the arsenal of linguistics, the more powerful you were. At least, that was how James felt. The challenge of his French course, he knew, was that he made them write earlier than most others. A full paper by the end of the semester. “I’m sure your strengths could make me a better professor, though your writing assignment’s content and topic are very much up to you. I’ll be expecting a history lesson,” he chuckled softly, running his hand over his scruff covered jaw.

“You know I’d be happy to stop by every time you’re working,” he admitted softly. Sometimes he wondered how she made it through life without every man stopping and staring. How did Esmee make it through a shift at the coffee shop if every person who ordered was mesmerized by her? James knew that the girl was attractive, but it just took him over when she talked. Intelligent, beautiful… something had to give, right? Something other than her age had to be problematic in the end. “I’ll bring Portia by, but if I promise her a bear, she’ll be yelling at you if you don’t give it to her,” he smiled, laughing softly at the idea of his six year old jumping up and down and begging for a bear. Any bear. The fact that the young brunette seemed okay to be talking about his daughter comforted him. There weren’t a lot of people, let alone his students, who seemed to be normal when talking about her.

The girl’s swift French response and ease seemed to take James’s breath away. Their meeting the night before had been happenstance and now, well, he hadn’t thought they’d be going for coffee after finding out she was in his class. Alcohol hadn’t contributed much to their conversation, that much was indicated by their current ability to be around one another with more to speak of. Sure, she was more intoxicating than the scotch he’d been partaking in last night, but today she was just as enlightening. Just as smart and witty and able to hold herself in an attractive manner. There was no way she was as young as most college students, right? He’d never get over that.

“Please do,” he whispered out as she spoke of continuing to wear her perfume. Maybe he’d buy her a new one someday, just to know she was thinking of him when she wore it. James internally chastised himself. It was far too soon for him to be thinking such a thing. The professor set his bag down beside him, coffee in his free hand. There were plenty of people in this coffee shop that he could be distracted by, yet here he was, warming his soul with the presence of Esmee and a little bit of caffeine. Taking a seat, he pressed the cup to his lips and took a sip, humming softly. “I wouldn’t mind knowing what you making me one of these would taste like. Somehow, I think it’d be even more delicious,” James flicked his eyes over the cup, making eye contact with the girl just briefly. Such gorgeous eyes, an even more phenomenal presence.

“The story is actually kind of ridiculous. Little girls have their own, hard to understand minds,” he used his hands as he spoke, sighing softly. “Portia first fell in love with gummy bears and then moved on to decide that bears were even better. Real bears, stuffed bears, cartoon bears. My house is a bear cave, according to her. It’s really rather adorable,” he smiled as he spoke about her, knowing that sharing her was just like sharing a piece of himself that he never would have been able to otherwise. James smiled to himself, shaking his head before speaking once more. “I’m sorry. It’s probably not the most attractive thing for me to be talking about her this much,” he mentioned, knowing that this was part of him he usually kept very secret. Portia was his life, but if he mentioned her, then it was usually not far behind that his wife dying seemed to follow. And that wasn’t something he wanted to get into.

If They Only Knew

#ftf: 001 #ftf: if they only knew

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

Esmeralda could not help but chuckle at what he said, of course she was trying to show off her very limited vocabulary that still managed to take her in an advanced French class. “Guilty as charged.” Her free shoulder shrugged slightly as she felt her face turning even more red by now.  “I have to admit I’m running out of things to say now. My expectations are high for next class.” They already were, she took this class so she could understand the history of France better and, in order to do that, she had to know more than how to say the basics hello and goodbyes and asking for the restroom. But they moved one step higher now that she had the desire to learn more words so she could tell them proudly, so she could impress him for real. “Oh no, thank you, that is so nice of you!” Her head shook softly, brown strands of hair moving from one side to the other as she declined his offer. “They say exercise help get better results on tests, so I’ll be keep m only workout.”

“There’s always the exception as opposed to the rule and I guess that’s exactly me. I’ve grown out of the one picture of a cup a day keeps the doctor away phase.” Spending most of her time near ceramic cups and coffee beans numbed her to barely any source of surprise at that point. She had many jobs in her life, but they all implied to work in restaurants, whether it was in a mall or, like she was doing now, in a place dedicated to coffee addicts. “Animals, huh? My co-workers have not reached that level yet. Someday, I got close to making a bear, though!” The timid tone in her voice that made it sound like it was shaking instead of speaking normally had quickly disappeared. She could see why it went away effortlessly, he made her feel comfortable. It did not happen often, not that she had no friends or something of that sort, she simply did not feel good around many people as they rarely managed to change her mood or make her think of something else than the school days she missed.

The simple action of holding the door open for her made her heart skip a beat, again. It was minor for anybody else, but it only proved her that his gentleman manners of the previous night were not a façade. He acted so kindly and respectful the day before, and he did not stop at all. Boys her age, she had to phrase it that way, did not act like that. Yet, this thought played with her heart again. The line was not long, only a family waited ahead with a group of friends and she took place behind them, not paying much attention to how tired her muscles were getting. The smell of coffee was enough for her to keep holding them up, but not strong enough to stop her from take an almost crimson color. A smile grew wider than ever on her face as she looked down, trying to blink the effect his compliment had. She sort of managed to remain decent until now and she did not want to turn into a softie so quickly, although, she probably already did. “You should keep being inappropriate.” Esmée told him, as she turned her head so she could capture a glimpse of his face under the sunlight that was entering from the large windows. “Although…” she marked a pause so she could step forward. “Our evening was way more amazing than the cheap scent of my perfume.”

They, once again, moved closer to the counter until it was their turn to order. She went first and asked for her usual order, a typical Americano with a hint of caramel syrup in it and she added a croissant with it, so her stomach would not start growling like it did at such an hour and set an awkward silence between them. As the cashier pressed on the screen to enter the elements she said, she showed no difficulty in pulling her wallet from one of her bags and finding the money, mostly in coins, to pay it up. She mastered the multi-tasking skills when it was her turn to be the barista, but always carried a small clumsiness along, except for that day.

James had grown up looking very similarly to how he did even now – he was used to women blushing in his presence, but that didn’t change the fact that his mind was so entranced by this girl. Her flushed cheeks only made him want to be around he even more. Perhaps that was the problem for them. Maybe she’d be better off trying to win over someone else, but he was glad that she was there. With him. “The next class will be a little more difficult,” he nodded, trying to recall what they’d be talking about in the next session. Sometimes his courses ran together and he didn’t know until the night prior. It was part of being a professor. That was something he was certain of. “Tell me what you want to learn about and I’ll make sure it makes its way into class,” James smirked, trying not to show how much he actually favored the girl. She was magnetic and it was unbearable for him to feel like he would have to reign it in when they were in the next class. It was already too far away in his mind.

“Maybe you should let me carry your bags and you can go for a run instead. Surely you have time to do at least that,” he mentioned, knowing she was a busy girl. It was something that had come up in their conversation the night before. This radiant lady had slipped the fact that she was always running around into the conversation a few times and he picked up on it. James was nothing if not observant. In this world, a struggling college kid could easily be busier than a single dad. He was certain that was the case, with the vibe he’d gotten from many of his students over the years. “You’re funny,” James laughed for a moment at her joke before nodding. There was definitely a chance that many millennials felt that way about their lattes. “A bear? That’s my daughter’s favorite animal. She’d be impressed,” he mentioned casually, silently criticizing himself for mentioning his most favorite human. It could easily make this weird.

“I should continue being inappropriate? Be careful, Esmeralda. You just might get your wish,” he spoke lowly, shaking his head as a smile appeared so easily across his features. Scratching his scruff as he looked at the menu, he heard the girl order and instantly pulled out his wallet. It was him who had asked for her to come get coffee, by all means he’d pay for both of them. When she fumbled with her wallet, James easily slid the barista his card, adding to her order. “I’ll have a cappuccino and add another croissant and one of those flower cookies to it, too, please,” James spoke politely, the cashier nodding in agreement and swiping his card before Esmee could resist. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she needed to worry about paying.

“Mon Cherie,” he spoke lightly, sliding the coins off of the counter and into his large hands. “Je vais toujours acheter ton café,” James licked his lips before moving towards the end of the coffee bar, holding his hand out to her. There was something far too adorable about her needing to pay this way and he was attempting to figure her out. Who was she? What was she doing at a coffee shop with a ridiculously bland professor like him? “For the record, it doesn’t matter how cheap your perfume is. I like it,”

If They Only Knew

#ftf: 001 #ftf: if they only knew

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

“A coffee? J’aimerais bien.” Esmée looked down for a second before lifting her eyes back at him. “A coffee is exactly what I need right now.” The man could have suggested anything, to help with the chairs or erase the blackboard, to help him arrange neatly the books in his office or even to walk towards his car, it would have been impossible for her to decline spending more time with him. “And besides, caffeine does not sound like it’ll have me hungover tomorrow, so I’m definitely in favor of it.”

Her knees felt weak under her weight when she heard him say her name. She always went for her complete name, just by habit, except for when she introduced herself to the team earlier and even then, she did not say as beautifully as James did. The accent surely played a big part in this feeling, but it was the fact that he remembered her that made her come from unsure to almost defenceless against his charm. An undeniable charm she noticed at the seconds their eyes met the other night, a charm that helped in making her hungover bearable and that made the class go faster than any others. First classes were liked by students, it seemed that only History professors had the conviction it was the greatest opportunity they would ever get to drown people in the deepest confusion. The only confusion she experienced was about the knot that made its way to her throat when he confessed he was staring, too.

So, she was apparently not hallucinating, nor was she being a creep. He had been holding her gaze the entire time. She could imagine she was not the first one to notice how handsome he looked, under the dim light of a bar but also under the bright white neon light that hurt her eyes when she first rushed in the classroom. It seemed to be a common thing for students to discuss of the physical appearance of their teachers, but she never thought this way. Maybe she would have never done it if they had not meet in a different context like they did, or maybe she would. Something attracted her towards him, yes, his looks and his smile, but also his intelligence and with or without a few shots, she would have admired it anyway. It was probably the first element she noticed about him, the first element that makes her hold onto their conversation and want to learn more. There was lots of good sides about being curious, mostly for a history student who would never be done learning more about the past and the ways to interpret both the present and future, but there was a bad one: Esmeralda would never be tired of talking with someone and hearing about them, curious to learn more about them. So the simple idea of them having to spend more time together satisfied her curious self, too.

“I am not responsible for the bruises I will cause by hitting you accidentally with my bags along the way.” Her bags, her schedule, her job: she finally remembered all of them. The class ended way earlier than her shift, which was the goal of the several hours she spent arguing with the manager so she would get hours that match her classes withing having to skip one all the time like she did previously. In fact, she had three hours to spare. A small voice in her head could have told her to arrive earlier and get some extra hours in the bank, but the only thing she heard at the moment they started walking out of class was the sound of her heart who beated faster. It was probably due to the weight she was carrying and not the fact they were standing next to each other, again. “One more thing: latté art does not impress me anymore, s’il te plaît, don’t be offended if I don’t take a dozen of photos for my instagram of a leaf shape made of milk.” She tried to express a genuine laugh, but she only had the impression she was messing up. There was an easiness to her speech the night before and her light jokes were seemingly appreciated. On the other hand, they both had all of their senses and she doubted judging coffee designs was a topic as interesting as what they spoke. “Can I blame my randomness on the lack of sleep? I think I can.” She felt the shyness rising up to her cheeks, and her nose that became as pink as the rest of her face, hoping this excuse could make it up.

“Using your French to impress me, eh?” James raised a curious eyebrow, smirking as he did so. This girl was beyond adorable and it was likely that she’d get him into a little bit of trouble. But maybe that’s why she was so magnetic to him. Running a hand through his hair, he adjusted the strap of his bag once more as they began walking out of the classroom. A nice day – nice enough for some coffee and a gorgeous view (that being Esmee, of course). “It may actually take the edge off of that headache we both likely have. Coffee is never a bad idea,” he noted, the light smile on his face never fading.

In all of the time he’d been teaching there hadn’t even been one part of him that had been tempted to cross this line. Plenty of young women were attractive and made advances toward him – usually grad students who needed him to give them the best grade possible despite their lack of effort. James wasn’t one to fall into this trap. Most men in the profession would turn a blind eye to others who were partaking in inappropriate relationships with their students. Of course, Dr. Preston did his best not to care and mind his own business as well. To think that he’d be in the exact scenario that so many men who were professors fell into- well, he was beside himself. His mind was reeling. Thoughts of Esmeralda and her beauty, their ability to talk endlessly – it wasn’t okay. James couldn’t trust himself with her, he knew that much already. So why was he letting himself even take her to get coffee? That would remain a mystery.

“Would you like me to carry something?” he spoke, laughing lightly at the idea of her bags flailing everywhere. Each student of his was so different and Esmee was no exception – though, he had to admit that he wanted to get to know her even more. That bubbly, sweet girl from the night before was just far too attractive to him. He checked his watch briefly, another smile creeping onto his face at the thought of his daughter in art class. There were times when he’d go back to school and visit her if he had time to do so. Ever since his wife had died, it was important to him to make sure that she knew he was there for her. If there was one person in his life that meant everything to him, it was her. James would change the world to make her happy.

“So you’re meaning to tell me that you won’t be snapchatting every second of your day? How odd,” James smirked, each moment spent with her making him grow fonder. It was like she knew exactly what to say to make him want to get to know more about her. “I have to say, I’m impressed by latte art. Especially if they can make some kind of animal,” he nodded, chuckling as they spoke. It was once again easy and smooth, feeling like he could say anything and everything to her. This was why it was so dangerous to get to know a student – because James could feel himself being drawn to her. “If that’s what you’d like to blame it on. Mais t'inquiète pas,” he spoke, reaching to open the door to the coffee shop. As she moved in through the door, her perfume overtook him. Once they were in line, he leaned in closer, whispering to her. “Again, I’m being inappropriate, but you smell absolutely amazing and it’s just reminding me of last night…”

If They Only Knew

#ftf: 001 #ftf: if they only knew

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

Esmée was always told disturbing stories about bars and clubbing, so even when she actually went to these places, it was never to stay there for several hours to take someone home, unlike her friends who were always excited to tell all of the details about their unlucky encounters. The night before was not different in that way, she was told stories about a newbie in biochemistry who put more efforts in making jokes about his majors than making the evening pleasant, and apparently the friend of her friend met her prince charming. Those stories were quite an entertainment, but she had to admit it, she did not care about them for one second. Despite the headache and the bittersweet taste in her mouth that lingered through the night and until she emptied a bottle of mouthwash, she tried her best to remember the details of her story, her own little dreamy night.

Those details, the smiles, the laughters, the silences that were in no way awkward added to the deep conversations they shared made of this evening one of the greatest she ever had. It was almost as good as when she learned she was accepted into College. This said a lot. James appeared to her as clever, perhaps an erudite. He did not speak like those young guys who made of the Internet slang their daily vocabulary. He did not speak like a drunk uncle who told more inappropriate things than appropriate ones. He spoke smartly, he listened carefully and he spoke French heavenly, not that she knew about it last night.

Esmeralda could hardly take notes about the evaluations and the expectations about this class, not that she was not ready: her laptop was open on a blank page and she had a notebook and colorful pens arranged in a perfect order, but they were all left untouched. She was drown to his eyes, to his smile and she wished that each of the quick glares he did her way would last longer, that each grin that appeared on his face would last forever. At multiple times, she tried to shake her own shoulders, well mentally at least, hoping to remind herself that this was all wrong. And it was. She got her hopes up over one potentially meaningless night and there she was, staring at him to the point he surely felt uncomfortable. Anyone would if someone stared at them that way, mostly if said someone was basically a stranger.

The loud noise of chairs moving and the view of people standing up to join their friends woke her up and made her confused for a minute, which only confirmed that she had been paying no attention at all to what he was saying, even though she was listening closely. Listening to his voice, to his accent that sounded like the historians in French documentaries. Luckily, she noticed the people sitting behind her seemed as confused, so she just went in and joined their small team. Esmée remaine silent, but as the professor started walking closer, she suddenly found enough courage in herself to open her mouth and speak among those language students. They were only introducing themselves, so she did the same. “Je m’appelle Esmeralda et je suis en histoire depuis un an.” Her voice sounded unsure, a little higher pitched than usual for a reason ignored, but when he encouraged the team to keep going, she talked with more confidence. In her mind, his compliment was only meant for her and this was enough for her to join in their conversations and pretend she was enjoying the exchange, that was drifting to the homework. She might have been bored by them, but because of them she knew what she had to work on.

She cleared the table and put everything inside of her bags, which she pulled on until they reached the edge of the wooden surface, once she forced herself to look away from him. She was about to step down the final stair level, as the class was built on a staircase of a couple of levels, but she turned on her heels and cleared her throat. Esmée breathed in, then out, then cleared lightly her throat. Would it hurt if she came to talk to him? Probably not. He could simply confirm that he forgot about her and they would both move on and she would overthink how strange she might have seemed to look at him for the three long hours. “Excuse-moi,” she let out when she turned over to his desk. “For staring at you, I’m sorry. I guess I was just a little… tu sais, fatiguée? And I zoned out several times. I’m really sorry for that. I’d do better next week.” That was all she could manage to say: short sentences and three French words. If he did not recognize her from last night, he was convinced now that she was not the girl he remembered. Her confidence, her easiness, they were all gone and replaced by a racing heart and a shaking voice. 

A common theme for James on his first day of classes was to take note of certain students and the way that they spoke or how they presented themselves. However, if someone had asked him any of those details about the class today, he’d only be able to tell you about one of his students. The young woman in the front who had to be older than the rest of the students in class. Who was neat and organized, prepared, and god, her eyes were something to get lost in. You see, if someone asked him about any of his students, it’d be so obvious that he’d been thinking about kissing  Esmée since he said goodbye to her the night before. James certainly couldn’t help himself.

As he collected his things, he let his mind wander to their night together. They’d easily found common ground and spoken without much of an issue whatsoever. He hadn’t felt a connection like this since, well, his wife died. And while that all felt incredibly heavy and deep, it was also comforting. Another person in this world was able to make him laugh, to make him feel like he didn’t have to try so hard. If he hadn’t needed to relieve his babysitter the night before, he gladly would have talked to the girl all night. Her ability to understand what he was trying to say and their shared desire to listen to one another was something out of another world. Despite being young, she wasn’t checking her phone every five minutes or asking him how much money he made. She was respectful and kind – her focus seeming to be right where his way; in the moment.

James looked up just as the girl he was thinking of seemed to be making her way out of the classroom, though her next move changed that instantly. The smile on his face was, once again, unavoidable. He looked back down to close his messenger bag before hearing her clear her throat. If there was a fly on the wall at the current point in time, he was certain it would be able to tell exactly what was going on. “ Esmée,” he stopped her, using her name to show that he knew exactly who she was. It wasn’t hard for him to do so. If anything, she was much more beautiful and much less generic looking than he was. Not that it mattered all that much, but how could he forget her?

“Maybe I should be the one apologizing here,” James admitted, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he spoke. “If you’re feeling anything like I am this morning, your behavior is completely normal. Besides, you weren’t the only one staring,” he spoke easily, winking at her about the staring comment. It wasn’t anywhere near a lie, though he didn’t want to come off as being creepy. Tapping his fingers on the strap of his bag, he posed a question to  Esmée. “As inappropriate as this is, do you want to walk with me to grab a coffee? If you have the time,”

If They Only Knew

#ftf: if they only knew #ftf: 001

[profpreston]

esmeraldatrevinos:

Finding the classroom was one big task on its own. Usually, History classes were held in amphitheatres, in a very specific part of the faculty. Languages courses, however, were given in another building that she took a while to find. Once she was inside, still panting from the run she had to jump on the bus while carrying her bags and then to walk down the small hill to find the right faculty, she had to put a smile on her face and ask for help. It would be easy on normal days, but with a headache caused by the alcohol she had the day before and the sleepless night, it was suddenly harder than she expected.

Esmeralda rarely went out, it was not that she did not enjoy it, she always did. Nothing felt as good as dancing, drinking, talking and laughing once in a while, but when she started college a year ago, this habit became impossible to perpetuate. She had to hurry to her classes, than at work and she spent half of her night awake to do her course work. Sometimes, she travelled back to her home town, but that was only when she could ask for a day off. In a year, it happened twice. If she could not make time for her family, she did not have any to party. Except for last night. Her friend, Marissa, convinced her to celebrate the end of the summer and she agreed. The café she worked in was closed due to some renovations inside so she saw nothing wrong in spending her only day off doing something fun. She expected this night to be quite normal: a round of shots or two, intense dancing to electronic music she usually hated with a passion and a walk of shame back to her tiny apartment. But that night was different, thankfully.

As she increased the speed of her walk in the hallways, she regretted taking a class in another field of study. Yes, French would help her pursue her studies about what interested her the most, but suddenly it did not seem as cool as when she read the syllabus online. It was far, it was a brand new method to follow with the homework and it was going to be stressful. She heard from her friend, who travelled to France a couple of times in the past, that French people could be harsh and impatient, in short: nothing to reassure her. The student in history knew the basics of that other language, it was a prerequisite for the test that took place before her acceptance, but it would be even bigger of a pressure if she had to deal with one more impatient professor. She had it rough, last semester, the last thing she needed would be to get disliked by people from another department.

Esmée finally found the code of the, quite small, classroom she would spend every Monday morning in. She moved her way through the door so her bags would not hit the frame, but they ended up making a very loud sound when she dropped them heavily, by accident, on an empty table. “Désolée”. She whispered, definitely not loud enough to be heard by anybody. It was only when she was close to pulling the chair for her to sit on it that she dared to look in front of her. Even if she made it up to class late, professors always arrived after and the front desk was most of the time empty. Except for today. She glanced over to the blackboard, on which was written the professor’s name and the title of the class, and then she looked down to the man sitting behind his laptop. It can’t be him, she thought, her brow arching of confusion. But it was. It was the man who, yesterday, made her little party evening with her girl friend different, perhaps better, yes definitely better than any other. She stood still, for an awkward moment, giving him a shy smile as she felt herself getting lost in his eyes, once again. There was something mesmerizing about him. And there was something illegal about thinking of a professor that way. As this flashed through her mind, she clumsily sat down and cleared her throat. Maybe he did not even remember her, maybe the previous night meant nothing as they both had a couple of drinks up their nose, but suddenly, she felt more confident about the idea of taking a French class.

Now, James Preston wasn’t exactly one to be proud of himself for things – especially not rendez-vous-like behavior with a student, but he had to admit, he’d done pretty decently. How he had entranced her to no end the night before was just pure luck. In fact, his pounding head reminded him that he’d decided to stay for a couple drinks longer than he usually would have. The woman was intelligent, well spoken, and made him laugh – no one ever made him laugh anymore. At least, not in the way this mysterious woman had. Of course, seeing her near the front of his classroom was probably more unexpected than anything else. The entire situation caused the nausea already flipping through his abdomen to increase, guilt settling in. This was why he probably needed to avoid flirting with beautiful young women at bars. Particularly women who looked young enough to attend one of his classes. Yet here they were, him standing in front of this class with a stupid grin on his face and a fluttered feeling in his chest.

That small smile she was sporting was not helping. 

“Attention,” James spoke in flawless French, accented perfectly– one he was not born with. Despite his American roots, he was still able to fool most anyone. Clearing his throat, he smiled at Esmée before shifting his gaze over the rest of the class. Taking two pieces of paper out, he handed one to each side of the class, instructing them to simply write their names down. All of this was done, of course, in French and the looks on his students’ faces should have been framed for the rest of eternity. The two who had been handed the sheets of paper simply looked like they had just been told to cut off their neighbors heads. “Quoi? Vous pensiez que je serais facile avec vous?” James asked, leaning against the podium at the front of the room, a grin plastered across his face. He waited a few moments, as the whispering grew. There were a few smiling faces who understood him. 

“Oh, come on,” he spoke, the relief in the room audible. “I’m just having fun with you. Sign the paper with your name and pass it along. Attendance is required by the university,” James moved to sit on the table he’d been seated at before, the PowerPoint on the screen reading the name of the course and his own. “I’m Dr. James Preston, this is French 102 – so you should at least know some of what I was saying. Welcome back to NYU from what was sure to be a much more eventful summer than mine,” the man attempted not to let his eyes drift over to Esmée too often, but he almost couldn’t control it. She was beautiful and he was drawn to her, that much was true. 

Throughout the first class, James discussed the syllabus and what he expected from them and had them turn to the people near them and discuss as much as they could in French as possible – switching to English when needed. He walked around, listening in – correcting when asked and joining in when feeling obliged. As he walked by the dark haired young woman’s group, he smiled, licking his lips absentmindedly. His arms crossed over his chest as he listened to them speaking. “Très bien,” he nodded, walking back to the front of the room.

“Well done today, class. Don’t forget your first assignment is due tomorrow evening online. Email me if you have any questions,” he grinned, watching as everyone began to pack up and he moved around the table in the front to do the same. His eyes shifted upward and his gaze met hers once more, attempting to tell her to come see him. Though, he wasn’t sure if that was a great idea.

If They Only Knew

#ftf: if they only knew #ftf: 001

[profpreston]

If They Only Knew

“Portia, s’il te plait,” James plead with his daughter, begging her to just let go of his hand and walk into her classroom. He was too hungover and too busy to handle this in stride today. It had been a struggle every day since she started first grade two weeks ago. Today, though, was particularly hard. Whenever he went back to work, it got harder. Contemplating on whether or not tricking her into letting him leave would be a good idea, he didn’t even notice that his 6 year old had released his hand. Angrily, the blonde girl trudged into the classroom, huffing softly. Her father waved to the teacher with a smile before moving on his way. Sometimes he wished he could angrily walk away, too.

As he walked to campus, James took in the usual sights. The large buildings, the bustling city, and the various noises. He never understood how all of the kids on campus had earbuds stuck in their ears all of the time. This place was music all on its own. Running fingers through his hair, he sighed softly. New York City was the only place he’d ever felt this way about. It gave him new life after his wife died and he was fairly certain it had done the same for Portia. The girl loved having her dad by her side, but her teacher always gushed at how happy she seemed in school. It was the only thing that kept him in check when leaving her behind.

The first day of classes wasn’t exactly anything new for James. Sure, each cohort of students was a little different than the last, but they all were doe eyed, nervous students. His favorite part of the first class, in fact, was starting out by speaking only French. It usually excited one or two students in the room and initiated panic in most of the others. Pure bliss, it was, scaring the hell out of these kids. It never got old. Except with his upperclassmen. They started to be able to talk back to him - especially when they were majoring in French as well. Of course, his first course of the day was a introductory course, making him all the more excited. 

James entered the small lecture hall that he was teaching in, setting his bag down on the table in front. There would always be a minimal amount of nerves involved for him. College kids were judgmental and, most of the time, kind of annoying. Noise started to build as the classroom filled with students and James connected his laptop to the console at the front of the class. Looking up, his eyes caught dark orbs that he’d recognize anywhere. Sitting in a seat near the front of the classroom. Swallowing, he tilted his head, a confused look on his face before he shook his head. That couldn’t be the same woman (@esmeraldatrevinos) he’d met and so easily fell into last night, could it? They’d agreed to meet up for coffee later in the day and- this was too early for coffee. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he made himself look away. 

#ftf: if they only knew #ftf: 001