The Heart That's Meant to Love You [COMPLETED]

Chapter 6: Task

Lunch, though not satisfying, did fill Kieran's stomach to a comfortable level. His plan had been to ditch the old man after they finished eating. That didn't work out. Now, he found himself in Professor McNally's office, courtesy of a rather long guilt trip. 

Though he didn't feel particularly guilty, despite the rant, Kieran figured he would get out quicker if he gave in to the Professor's whim. So, here he stood. 

The office hadn't changed since the last time the old man called Kieran in. A wall of framed photographs on one side, a wall of bookshelves on the other. In front of the bookshelves, a desk covered in too many papers and pictorial submissions. An off-kilter glass nameplate hovered at the front edge, ready to crash with the right nudge. 

Kieran ran his fingers over the top of a picture frame on the wall. Dusty, as always. The old man had never liked cleaning, unless it involved his cameras. 

"We're studying composition and lighting right now," Professor McNally interrupted Kieran's thoughts. "That should be easy for you. Feel free to take them out on a field day. Photography can't be grasped by staying in the classroom." 

Ah. So they were going to go through the entire list of responsibilities right now. Not what Kieran had in mind, but okay. 

If the Professor stuck to his regular spiel, it should take a decent thirty minutes. Kieran glanced at his phone for the time. He could spare it, but he didn't want to. Better to throw the Professor off his rhythm and get out quicker. 

"Are you working in color or black-and-white?" Kieran asked abruptly. 

Professor McNally stopped mid-sentence. "Color." 

Good. Color had plenty of subsections that Kieran could play with while teaching these amateurs. Plenty of things to pass on to those who would one day take his job, if they were lucky. People didn't go into the photography field to make easy money. They did it because their passion for it overflowed. 

"Now, as I was saying..." 

"Who's the biggest talent in the official roster?" Kieran interrupted again. Maybe the Professor would get the hint. 

"Mr. Colburn, this is not a sports competition. Please pay attention to your phraseology." 

"I'm talking about the class roster, Professor. What else am I supposed to call it?" Kieran spun to shoot a grin at his former professor. Kieran had never met anyone that didn't fall for his devil-may-care grin. 

Professor McNally rolled his eyes, but he didn't mention it again. "There's a young man I'm keeping my eye on. Benjamin Porter. His compositions are decent, emotionally moving. He has a good eye."

Kieran nodded. If this Benjamin Porter earned such high praise from the strictest professor Kieran knew, there must be some talent there. Mentally, Kieran made a note to keep his eyes on this student's photographs. If such a great talent existed, Kieran wanted to see for himself. 

What kind of emotion did the pictures portray? Kieran had always stretched to find emotion in his own photographs, though they were technically sound. Few, since he graduated college, had reached into the true depths of human feelings. 

Kieran missed that feeling in his photographs. 

"Here." Professor McNally held out a key. "To my office. I'll leave the class syllabus and outlines on the desk. Come and go as you please." 

Quite the offer. Kieran had subbed for this professor only one other time, and the office key hadn't been part of the deal. This generosity... where did it come from? 

Kieran approached the desk and tentatively reached out to accept the key. He stopped a fraction of an inch before his fingers made contact. "Why are you being so nice today?" 

"Can't I be nice as a reward for you helping me out?" 

"You can, but I don't believe that you will." Kieran arched his brows, a silent challenge to prove him wrong. 

Professor McNally sighed. "Alright, you've cornered me. I'm under strict orders not to let any official class papers leave my office. You'll have to have the key to teach the class. That's all." 

Part of Kieran still didn't buy it, but as far as excuses went, it passed the bar of minimum satisfaction. He snatched the key from the Professor and dug out his own key-chain to attach it. 

"Thank you for doing this, Kieran." 

Kieran shook his head. "Don't thank me yet. I haven't completed the task. Thank me when you get back." 

Professor McNally, with a smile bright on his face, stood to extend his hand. "I'll do that, then." 

Kieran shook the offered hand, released it quickly, and tipped his fingers in a final wave. No need to say anything else. If he spoke, he'd be there for another hour or more. Professor McNally loved to hear himself speak. 

With nothing on his mind except escape, Kieran vacated the academic offices as fast as reasonably allowed. Warm sunshine and mediocre breeze greeted him as his feet hit the pavement. 

Kieran stopped to tip his head back, close his eyes, and inhale the fresh air. It could be a while before he had this opportunity again. 

Upon opening his eyes, Kieran could only stare instead of moving. 

It was the flutter of white fabric that first caught his attention. A wispy cloud of snow-like cloth that enshrouded her legs and lashed out at the woman walking beside her. White. The color of innocence. 

From there, Kieran assessed. The color didn't apply only to her long, flowing skirt, but also to everything else she wore. A stark contrast to her dark hair. Hair that might have accentuated her face, had it been cut to frame it. A face that didn't need makeup or attention to make it beautiful. It did that all on its own. She was very pretty, but Kieran took note mostly of her bearing. 

She held the aura of money. Only little rich girls walked with the elegance enshrouding her.

The friend alongside her didn't seem of the same caliber, but she could just be eccentric. Either way, the other woman hardly gave her a glance, friendly or not.  

Intrigued, Kieran watched until she and her friend disappeared down the path. If only he knew more. If he only had the time to ask. 

Without the time or ability to do anything about it, Kieran dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number labeled with only a single name. Donovan.