For The Love Of History

Chapter 9

▪️G R A H A M▪️

Around 10:00pm, I finally got a chance to sit back and relax.

With a rough first week behind me, I chose to spend this Friday night indoors. I had declined to go out for drinks with some of my friends, wanting to have some peace and quiet instead. I wore a black, short-sleeved cotton pyjama set while sipping on some Irish coffee from my favourite mug. It was a simple, white beaker that had the words, Did ye, Aye? written on it in black cursive.

I laid back in bed with my mobile phone in my hand, scrolling through Octavia's Instagram. I was thankful that her profile was public so I did not need to send a follow request in order to view her content. I noticed that she uploaded a new picture at least once every other day, sometimes more than that.

The last post, earlier today, appeared to be a picture taken from her dorm room. Her window was closed and it framed the Edinburgh Castle like a portrait, under which she had written a caption. It was a quote from Buddha, "We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves." I found myself smiling at the post as the quote, coupled with the picture, was quite deep and thought-provoking.

As time passed, I continued scrolling through snippets of her poetry, illustrated beautifully in eloquent pictorial designs that she had created herself. They were all very expressive and full of emotion. One of them, written five months ago, caused me to pause. It wrote:

"I pleaded for you to come
Closer as I laid my heart out for thee,
Into the darkness you left me
All alone with myself to be.
Feeling as though all my joy was theft
By a being I knew not where from."

The unexpected slight wave of jealousy I felt surprised me and against my better judgement, I found myself wondering who she was writing to. Perhaps an old boyfriend, or worse, a current boyfriend?

To be honest, I had not stopped to consider that Octavia may not be emotionally available on top of being off-limits since she was my student. I really did not want to be in another relationship with a taken woman, those days were long over. My eyes narrowed as I slammed my phone down on the bed, my hands coming to rub my temples.

"Get a grip, MacAllister, stop acting like a loon! Ye aren't a wee laddie!" I muttered while looking up at the ceiling.

Taking my time, I slowly scanned the sunken part of my bedroom ceiling, admiring the artwork. It was an originally restored piece, created and decorated during the Renaissance period. Each stroke of paint seemed to tell a story, a tribute to the natural wonders that adorned the Scottish landscape. Thistle motifs, their regal purple hues bursting forth, stood tall amidst the verdant greens and muted browns of Bog Myrtles. Gorse flowers, their vibrant yellow petals like rays of sunlight, danced in harmonious contrast.

Being a lover of historical things, I wondered how Octavia would react to seeing such a thing. I envisioned how her beautiful amber eyes would glaze over before closing as she—Oh great! I silently cursed while stopping the thought from further taking shape.

Now I was fantasizing about my student being in my bed. This really could not and should not be happening. Confusion washed over me as I did not understand how Octavia elicited these feelings. There was just something about her that intrigued me.

"Perhaps she is a witch and has cast a spell on me," I sighed, before groaning inwardly.

As I picked up my phone once more, a sense of anticipation and hesitation lingered in the air. My thumb hovered over the screen, poised to break the silence. With a deep breath, I opened the messaging app, greeted by the familiar sight of an empty chat box with Octavia's name at the top.