[soundtrack inspired for this scene: White Lies- To Lose My Life]
A cool gust of wind hits my face as Hannah and I step out of our bus. We are on one of New York's busiest streets; Times Square and 42nd Street. Hannah Grabs my arm and pulls me towards the direction she's walking in.
"This place has the best coffee in town."
After a quick walk down the block, we stop at a street corner where a big a visible crowd is gathered inside a café.
"Welcome to The Coffee Cup!" Hanna says with enthusiasm. She opens the glass door that has a welded iron design around it and steps inside. I can hear music playing and people chattering while Coffee Cup employees are busy bustling about, preparing orders. The café is very beautifully decorated in very earthy tones; soft yellows and pastel greens, accented with espresso chocolate chairs and leather booths. The flooring is a dark wood panel, which is waxed and clean and the window panes are large, with a beautiful decorative design in the ceiling.
The room smells of fresh coffee beans and cinnamon, an intoxicating aroma that is very comforting to my senses.
"Let's grow old together, and die at the same time!"
I turn my head and laugh at Hannah as she sings along to the music.
"What band?" I holler over her off pitch singing.
"White Lies-To Lose my life, I have their entire album! Love those guys. Come on let's sit down over there."
She points to a small table that is miraculously empty. Everywhere I look around, there seems to be occupied seating. We walk over to the table it and sit down. I notice a few pink daisy's inside a tiny glass vase. Cute.
A waitress walks over to us shortly after and takes our orders. Hannah orders a Frappuccino, while I just stick with a regular Columbian coffee.
"Try and cheer up a bit hun, soon your man will be here and everything will be much easier. If he didn't love you, he wouldn't be moving here." Hannah reassures me.
I sip my coffee and manage to show a hint of a smile. "I know, maybe it was one of his roommate's friends after all." Am I seriously trying to lie to myself? I shake my head slightly and drink more coffee.
"Let's talk about something else why don't we? It should get your mind off everything distressing you. How was your first day at school?" She asks me.
That question distresses me. I take a deep breath and smile at my friend.
"It wasn't so bad. I have this super uptight English prof; Professor Velonce. She's seriously scary to look at it."
"Oh my god! I heard she's going on a date with some hot shot new guy in the school faculty. I forget the old man's name."
I watch Hannah attempt to unscramble her brain, but she eventually gives up.
"Oh well, it'll come to me, I know it will." She shrugs her shoulders and bites into her banana muffin.
"My other professors aren't too bad, except for this really annoying prof I have."
I watch Hannah place her mug down, giving me her undivided attention.
"He seriously humiliated me in class Han, I hate his guts already."
Her eyes widen in shock, as she waits for the juicy details.
"He curses in class; out loud… he cussed at me!"
"What!? What did he say to you?"
I hesitate a bit. Well he didn't technically curse at me. It was more a reference to my body part. "He told me to move my ass."
I hear Hanna laugh out loud.
"But that's not the worst part, the guy is totally prejudiced. He started talking about Belgian people halfway through class. Well actually it was lame Belgian jokes, but still."
"That sounds better than the professor I have. Professor Reese. He looks like a short version of Mr. Bean."
I almost spit out my coffee from a laugh attack.
"I have to see this guy." I'm feeling in better spirits already.
"Trust me you don't, he smells of old gym socks and cigarettes."
I'm laughing more hysterically now. "Hannah you're too much!"
"What? It's the truth."
I take another sip of my coffee and continue on about the notorious Professor De Boer.
"He's such a huge thorn in my side. I just-"
And then Hannah interrupts me.
"Whoa! Wait! Did you say Professor De Boer?"
I nod in confusion.
"That's the guy who is rumored to be dating Velonce in secret!"
I gape at Hannah. This can't be true. No way! I laugh inside myself.
"That's highly unlikely Han."
She cocks her head to the side and looks at me.
"Because-" I'm about to answer her, but I can hardly believe my eyes. How did I not notice him standing there!?
"Well?" Hannah looks crossed with me.
He's staring right at me now.
"Because that's Professor De Boer." I break the eye contact and look at Hannah.
"Don't turn around! Not yet!" I'm careful to keep my voice down, even though he's without earshot distance away from us.
Hannah rolls her eyes and waits 20 seconds before turning around.
"That old fat guy standing in line over there?" I meet her eyes and glance behind her. Of course she's going to assume it's the old man. This is going to be a world of annoyance to explain. I brace myself.
"No Hannah, not him, the young guy in the black leather jacket over there, waiting on whatever it is he ordered."
I'm about to feel mortified again as she twists her body around curiously.
"Not yet!" I hiss.
She whips her head around and glares at me. "Who cares? It's New York, people are used to rudeness. It's expected of us New Yorker's." and then she winks at me.
I sigh and quickly turn my face towards the window as she checks out my Dutch Professor. God, this is going to be an earful.
I exhale and fidget with my coffee cup as I endure the next few minutes of Hannah's shock and latest crush.
"Do you need a bucket for your drool?" I tease her.
"Are you insane!? You have a hunk for a professor! What the hell are you complaining about? I swear Mina, if I ever hear you complain about that Dutch class, I will register in to that class myself and annoy you a thousand times worse."
I can't help but laugh out loud at her comment.
"No way sistah, you're the one who is clearly insane, and I see what you mean about the impossibility of him hooking up with Velonce. The rumors are definitely put to rest." She raises her hands up in a surrendering gesture and smiles.
I can't help but feel his eyes on me. It's seriously unnerving. Don't look up. This sentence is on repeat like a broken record in my head, but I finally give in and glance over at him. Our eyes lock, no…it's not like I want to lock my gaze on him, it's like his eyes are demanding my attention, as if the rest of his environment fades out and he knows he's got his prey in his grasp, all he needs to do is pounce. The big bad wolf indeed Professor De Boer. Touché.
"He's looking at you isn't he?" Hannah gushes in excitement.
I quickly avert my eyes and stare down at my empty coffee cup.
"What? No, don't be silly."
"You've been staring in that direction for like a full five minutes while I've been talking to a wall." She shakes her head and gives me an all too knowing look.
Past five minutes, seriously? I didn't even realize so much time had gone by since I peered up at him. This is disturbing me now. I'm just shocked that he's here, that's all. I try to convince my conscience as it feels a deep pang of guilt. Hans wouldn't like that.
"I don't blame you though, he's major eye candy, a total A+++," she giggles. "I love his style and did you check out the muscles on him? Wow."
He isn't wearing the same outfit he wore in class earlier. I notice that he has a black leather jacket on that is unzipped all the way down, and underneath he's wearing a black shirt, followed by dark blue jeans, from the looks of the style I can tell the brand is Diesel. The silver buckle on his belt really stands out on his slim waist. I start to picture a pack of abs underneath, but that image quickly disappears when someone stands in front of me.
I look up and notice the familiar face.
"Taylor, hey-" With a polite smile, I introduce him to Hannah.
She smirks at me, gloating inside, and I know why. This is the same guy she pointed out today on campus, saying that he's perfect for me.
"I was just picking up some coffee for some friends and I noticed you sitting here, so I thought I'd come and say hi."
"Well don't be a stranger, sit down!" Hannah insists.
"Cool, thanks." Taylor quickly drags a chair over and sits astride on the open end of the table, resting his arms over the top of his chair.
Oh god Hannah, why? I'm not sure why I'm irritated all of a sudden. My eyes find their way back in the direction of my professor. He's still standing there and I stare at him long enough to see him finally receive his cup of coffee, but there's someone else with him now, a friend possibly? The other man has darker and longer hair than my professor and is maybe an inch shorter than him. I watch them take a seat at a booth not too far from my table and they begin to chat.
"Mina you've got to come to the frat party next weekend." Taylor says.
I turn my gaze and look at him. "Oh, yeah, sure sounds like fun."
"Why do you always get all the admirers?" Hannah whines and pouts playfully.
"Hey, I'll gladly give you all of mine." I reply.
Taylor chuckles and starts talking about one of his buddies with Hannah, I assume he's trying to set her up with his best mate.
"He doesn't smoke does he?" I hear her interrogating him as I observe their conversation for the next 15 minutes, laughing along and being social, all the while staying committed to keep my promise; I solemnly swear to not look at him even outside of school premises. I feel a short satisfaction at my steel self-discipline. He probably loves all that attention from the ladies. I don't want to make his ego bigger than it already is.
"So I'll pick you ladies up at 8 on Saturday?" Taylor asks me. His eyes are a smoky blue and his skin is pretty tan for mid-September. Probably uses the tanning beds.
"Sounds good to me, we'll see you then." I smile genuinely as he gets off his chair and says goodbye to us.
"See I told you!" Hannah boasts again, "he totally digs you."
I smile and laugh quietly. "I'm totally unavailable." And without realizing that I'm doing it, my eyes search the same area my professor was seated at. He's gone. Where did he go? How did I miss his departure? Because you vowed not to look at him dummy.
I swiftly survey the crowded café; he's not here.
"Looking for someone?" Hannah teases.
I'm about to answer her when the loud sound of a motor engine comes to life.
"He rides a bike!? Way cool!" Hannah beams as she stares at the sexy black motorcycle parked outside on the street, only ten feet away from us.
I watch Professor De Boer mount his bike, placing a black helmet over his head.
"Can this man get any sexier?" She says in a dreamy voice, resting her chin in her hand, swooning over him.
I can't pull my eyes away from my professor; it feels like he's staring at me, even though his eyes aren't visible through his dark helmet visor. He twists his wrist up and down on the bike handle, revving the engine as loud as possible before turning his head away from my direction and finally speeding away into oncoming traffic.
I hear Hanna sigh and faint over my Professor. "I still can't believe he's a professor at Yale, he can't be more than 25."
With a loud exhale, I realize that I had been holding my breath for quite some time. God, what the hell?
"We should get home, early day tomorrow for the both of us." I change the subject and pull my chair back.
Hannah and I throw some cash on the table and leave the café. What are the chances of running into the professor you despise at a coffee shop? That's my last thought regarding him, before Hannah and I step onto our bus and head home.
[soundtrack inspired for this scene: Moonlight-Electric Cello-Beethoven (The Piano Guys)
The door handle attached to suite number three begins to twist open as a chubby short grey haired cat rushes to the door to greet his owner. The pudgy little cat rubs itself between the legs of his master and purrs relentlessly.
"Hey Gizmo, how are you little buddy?" He picks up his cat and grunts. "Someone is getting heavier by the day now isn't he?" The cat just looks at his owner with curious glowing, green eyes and lets out a quiet little meow.
"Okay, okay, let's get some food in that bowl, you spoiled little brat." He places his cat gently back on the ground and takes off his jacket. The apartment is large, designed in a loft style with an open wall concept, leaving the kitchen and living area unrestricted of walls. He walks into his living room and turns on the stereo.
In seconds, a familiar melody begins to play as the tunes collide in a dark innovated composition of strings from the cello. This pleases him as he turns towards his kitchen and washes his hands in the sink.
He slowly winds down and relaxes from his busy day as he boils some water and throws some spaghetti in the steaming pot. He gathers some ingredients for his sauce from the cabinet and picks up a few tomatoes, cilantro and basil leafs from the fridge. Pulling a knife out of the drawer, he begins to cut away and chop the basil leafs like a professional culinary chef. He's so hypnotized by the sound and speed of the blade as it swipes down on the cutting board, that he completely ignores the fact that his finger has been cut and is bleeding, a deep gash on the side of his left index finger.
"Well, that's annoying." He says out loud. Had it not been for the blood dripping out of his finger, he wouldn't have stopped.
I never feel pain.
He maneuvers his way to the sink and washes it off, then bandages the cut.
I need to change into something comfier.
Gizmo follows him into the bedroom and lays on the bed while his owner changes into a pair of grey sweats that ride low at the waist, accentuating the inverted triangle that forms his perfect waist and midsection as muscles ripple across his chest and shoulders over his perfectly constructed biceps.
He then walks over to his door and clutches the metal bar bolted between the door frame and begins his nightly routine of 60 chin ups, 70 push ups and 100 sit ups. His mind begins to wander to places he knows it shouldn't go, and this makes him push harder into his exercise routine, desperately trying to escape the sexual frustration he feels as it creates tension further down his waist and into his groin.
He wipes his sweat off with a white towel and walks back into the kitchen, which displays an assortment of stainless steel appliances. Careful to turn the knob down on his steaming pot of spaghetti sauce, he turns and walks back to his bedroom, soon entering his bathroom.
The sound of water begins to pour out from the shower head as steam begins to fog up the mirror and shower stall. He takes off his clothing and tosses it into the wicker laundry basket before relieving his aching muscles under the hot water. Quickly washing himself, he shuts off the water and steps out of the stall, wrapping a white towel around his chiselled lower waist.
He dresses himself in a fresh pair of black pajama bottoms and eats his dinner, while sitting on a stool around the marble kitchen island. He washes the dishes, then reclines comfortably on his brown leather sofa and laughs at some funny skits of Little Britain on his 60 inch plasma television screen.
Man I'm tired, bed time for me.
He shuts off his T.V. as the program ends and re-enters his bathroom.
I need to buy some more floss, fucking cheap ass piece of shit, I better start buying that expensive brand, maybe then it won't break so much every time I pull.
Gizmo trots into the bathroom and meows at his master. He looks down at his cat and chuckles. "Maybe I don't know my own strength huh Gizmo?"
The cat stares up at him in curiosity and meows again for attention.
"Not right now little guy, got to brush my teeth."
Gizmo finally gives up and leaves the bathroom.
He grabs his white and blue tooth brush and cleans his teeth. Turning the tap on again, he rinses his mouth and shuts off the water once more.
Something peculiar is happening as he leans up and stares at his reflection in the mirror. Seconds go by, minutes, and yet he doesn't turn his gaze or blink for an instant. It's as if the person in the mirror is staring at the person facing the reflection on the other side, not the other way around. His heart rate begins to pick up, as his reflection stares back at him through demonic black dilated pupils that spread into the whites of his eyes.
It's making him panic as he grips the sides of the sink.
No, no, not again, no...
His breathing is jagged and he feels as though the person in the mirror is smiling at him…because it knows…it knows who he is.
"No!" He smashes his fist into the mirror in one blow as it shatters, shards falling into the sink. His right hand is bleeding profusely, yet he feels no pain, he doesn't flinch or move a muscle, not even a gasp or a sigh escapes from his lips as stinging pain sears into his skin and nerves.
I don't feel a fucking thing. He flexes his hand quite comfortably as it bleeds.
His breathing is heavy from the shock of his sudden panic attack, but he soon relaxes while facing a hollow mirror.
After bandaging his hand and cleaning the mess of glass, he slips inside of his king sized bed. The mattress feels so good to lie on after being on his feet for long hours. He shifts around, feeling restless, tossing and turning before he finally finds his comfy spot and dozes off. But his momentary slumber is quickly disrupted when the phone rings.
With a groan, he pulls a pillow over his head.
"Fuck off!" He yells at the mysterious late night caller, but the ringing is relentless.
"For fucks sake!" His temper is splintering into pieces as the phones rings a fifth time before going to voice mail.
"You have, one new message…" The automated female voice plays back.
"Hey Jeremy it's Pierce calling, why the hell is your cell turned off man? Anyway, I I'm calling to remind you about next week; the job…are you still going to do it? Look man, I really need your help. I can't find a single guy that that's willing to do the job because they are money motivated. I just need you to give that asshole a scare, you know, the usual. Please give me a call in the morning bro, have fun educating the American youth tomorrow Professor De Boer."
The answering machine beeps and shuts off.
plz check out our official story site on our links page located in our profile