「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(233) Professional Pretender

Lynn's POV

The luxury of spins was not one we could revel in back in our initial days as paraplegics. Certainly, Charles would love to, but the technologies back then, and even Hank, could not make that come true.

Sometime later, it was made possible by Hank's persistence and creativity but the businesses of the school came to dominate all our time and the regular routine prior to our days in Oxford had unwittingly been cast aside. Even after the total reversion of Erik's doing, it was only sporadically that we had been granted the opportunity for such an indulgence between the dealings of more imperative issues.

Unmistakably, it had been a while since I had the privilege to ride alongside Charles, with the trip to JFK being my first since my return to the mansion and it was absolutely pleasing to find his driving still prudent, yet swift and smooth, without having to dawdle.

Evidently, he had accustomed himself to the operation of all his precious automobiles without any use of his legs and even when they were working now, he was more comfortable manipulating the various components without them. Not to mention the sheer satisfaction radiating from his fulfilled smile as he confidently manoeuvred the gears and brakes with just his hands.

It was, undeniably, a delightful sight, to observe him utterly enjoy the simple endeavour amidst the soothing classical tunes resonating from the recently added CD player as the passing sceneries transformed from green landscapes to towering skyscrapers, albeit with the unfortunate drawback of not being able to have my hand together with his throughout the entire journey.

Eventually, Charles pulled up the sleek coupe into the multi-storeyed parking lot of the airport and readily unloaded our luggages from the trunk. Jean had meticulously separated our respective belongings to reduce their size and facilitate their permission onto the plane as carry-ons, resulting in several pieces.

As I briefly adjusted my attire proper, Charles casually slung his olive canvas messenger bag over his shoulder and securely locked up the vehicle. Sliding the keys back into his pocket, Charles extended the trolley handles of the our roller suitcases and began to wheel the pair of them, identical models polished in contrasting shades of jet black and hot pink, towards the terminal.

"Honestly, I could get that, Charles," I offered as I stepped in front of him, deliberately obstructing his path and keenly gestured to take over the one that was clearly mine.

"It's alright, love. I can manage," Charles declined graciously, beaming with a kind expression.

"I know you can. But I want you to hold my hand," I requested, looking at him pleadingly.

Charles stunned for several moments, his smile gradually faltering as he stared blankly into my desperate eyes. Progressively, his cheeks began to blush as he bashfully realized his inadvertently negligent behaviour to be the source of my peculiarly explicit demand.

"I'm sorry, Lynn," Charles mumbled, a slight chuckle of amusement escaping his teeth, as he leaned down to peck my lips.

"Don't say that. Just hold my hand," I appealed sincerely, stretching mine to his and despite the cumbersome procedure to manually intertwine our fingers, he enthusiastically obliged.

With Charles gladly chaperoning me into the building and me grinning perpetually, we excitedly proceeded towards the counter to get our tickets issued as instructed by Jean. The transaction was quick and fuss-free, giving us some allowance to randomly wander around the quaint selection of shoppes within the restricted area and relish in a nice cup of tea and a light lunch at the exclusive lounge for larger-spending passengers.