It was on the eve of my half birthday when I was invited to join his world. By noon the next day, not only would I be halfway to twenty-one years of age, but I'd also be mere hours from investing myself in a job that would change everything I thought I knew about my simple life.
It's an unusually chilly late August day as I walk to class. I pull down the sleeves of my favorite maroon sweater, clamping the material inside my closed fists. The wind picks up and the dark sky warns me of an approaching storm. These are my favorite type of days; the ones that could so easily swallow you up and spit you back out. The ignorance of it all. Any minute clouds could open up and pour their contents down on me, but I wouldn't mind. In fact, I'd probably stop and absorb it all in, letting it cleanse me in some metaphorical sense.
But sadly, I reach the building door before they can even place a drop on me.
I walk up the two flights of stairs hastily because, despite my love for this weather, I am going to my favorite class of the day. Well semester, really, since it is the only class I have left to take before I graduate in the winter. Opening the door, I see the classroom is full. I am always the last one in, excluding our teacher, Professor Harris, who prefers to make somewhat of a grand entrance. He demands we call him Harris because he simply hates the idea of a distinction in superiority between us and him. It feels odd calling a professor something so informal and it isn't easy to get used to. Sometimes I still slip up and refer to him as Professor Harris and he laughs when I do, but never corrects me.
I take my usual seat in the second row and slip out my notebook from my bag. I feel a tap on my shoulder and when I turn around I see it is Matt Edwards.
"Hey Olivia, would you mind if I ran my notes by you after class? I'm freaking out over my presentation Monday." He flashes his classic charming smile to follow his plea.
"Sure, Matt," I smile back, "But I don't know why you're asking me, I'm horrible at giving criticism."
"So you're saying you already know it will be bad?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.
"No, no, no," I shake my hands in front of me and my eyes grow wide. "That's not what I meant at all."
He laughs, "I'm only kidding Olivia, I already know it will be bad." I laugh too, thankful he didn't take offense even though I wasn't trying to offend him in the slightest. But even if I had, Matt would've still laughed. He's just that kind of guy, the type who never gets hurt by anything, just makes a joke of it all. And if you ever did say something really stupid, he wouldn't judge you or laugh. Well, he would laugh but then bring up a story of a time when he said something just as stupid. He was always looking out for others and trying to make everyone happy. A quality I find appealing and one I wish I had.
"But I'm asking you," he continues, still a natural grin on his face, "Because everyone knows you're the best in the class. You know this stuff like the back of your hand. You could probably go up there be the teacher."
"I'm not that good," I blush, nervously fiddling with the notebook I unknowingly moved down to my lap.
"Yeah you are," he lightly hits me in the arm. "And I think your Harris' favorite student." He smirks at me and I blush again.
"This stuff just come easily to me I guess," I shrug it off, "A lot of things don't, but this does." I smile at him and he laughs.
"I'm sure many things come easily to you." His eyes meet mine and his smile grows. "In fact—"
He starts to say something, but the door swings open and the professor walks in, "Hello class," he bellows loudly.
"Hello Professor," the class chimes together. It's almost an unspoken rule, saying hello all at once. It's also the only time we called him "Professor." No one really knows how it started, but everyone goes along with it. We don't reason with it, we just do it.
