Portion (Ongoing)

paperball

Present time

I was sitting, shuffling through the papers I had yet to grade, when everytime I would stop and take quick glances at the professor. He was infront of me, really focused on the task at hand and rushing his hand through his dark auburn mane. His jaw muscles tensed every now and then while he would bite his soft-looking pink lips in focus. And then every now and then, he would feel as if someone's staring right at his soul and quickly look over in my direction as I would divert my curious attention back to the papers. As if I never glanced at the man present infront of me.

I would hear his somber sigh break the silence in the room, but it would never cut the tension of the atmosphere.

It has been weeks since I became his assistant, and we have maintained a cordial territory. It would be the same thing each time I was to stay: I stay after class, he gives me my work, I try to ease the tension with a joke (That's I think in my opinion is funny), and he dismisses it with an annoyed grimace on his face as he say his famous words, "Get to work. I rather not spend my whole evening here." I get it; we don't have to be the best of friends, but he could at least attempt conversation with me. I feel as if I can't even relax with him around as his aloofness makes me tense. I looked over at the window as I took a breath, seeing a radiant sun take set.

That's when a paperball smacked me in the face.

I gasped and looked over at the direction it came from with squinted eyes. "What was that for?"

He looks at me in my eye and shrugs as he puts some papers in the draw if his desk.

"First you cussed me out, now you hit me with a paperball. I must say you are abusive Mr. Lockhart." I leaned my head on my hand and asked, "Do you treat all of your lovely students like this?" I saw him stand up and place a folder in a file cabinet, his side profile glamorous, yet bland. His muscles flexed through his white, short sleeved shirt. He quirked an eyebrow. "Not particularly." No emotion present through his tone.

Surprised he even replied, I place my hand on my heart genuinely, "Well, I feel truly honored to receive this behavior." Sarcasm laced my words strongly.

He chuckled slightly then tried to put on a straight face immediately.

I smiled. "Wait, did I just hear a sound other than an irritated huff coming from your mouth."

He rolled his eyes.

I stood up and walked to where he stood by the cabinet and gave him the papers I had finished. I went to his desk, messing with the smallest things when I saw a picture that was held in a traditional frame. I picked it up and admired the little girl that was displayed. Her snaggletoothed smile beamed as her blood red curls were blown in the opposite direction of the wind; she had a tiger painted of her face, and she held pink cotton candy in her hand. Her emerald eyes smized as she looked into the camera. She was a beauty.

The picture was snatched from my hand instantly as I looked back at eyes filled with so many emotions. "Hey, what are you doing?", irritation came from his voice.

"I'm sorry. I was just looking." I looked down at my toes. His intimidation was crawling up my back. I looked back up in curiosity. "Who is she?"

He placed it back on his desk exactly where it was. "None of your business." He walked off to the the tables and canvasses and started to clean up. I walked over to where he was and helped as well. A pregnant pause passed by. "She's my niece." He stated hesitantly.

I looked over at him. To my surprise he was already looking over in my direction through stoic eyes. I could sense he was one of those people who had built walls not even an bulldozer could tear down. I grinned, "She sure is a cutie. Wonder how she's related to you." I tried to lighten him up.

"Hardy har har." He bit his lip. "I have you know she got her good looks from me."

"Hmm. I don't think it works like that." I laughed. He smirked.

Then he coughed suddenly to compose himself. "How about you help me clean the brushes." His stern tone back once again as if it never left.

"Okay sir." I marched over to the sink, still wanting our light conversation to continue. I grab a few brushes and started to hand wash them as he stood by me doing the same thing. "Soooo..." I nudged him with jumping eyebrows.

"Look Ms. Haynes, I'm trying to get done here."

"I want to also. But I was thinking, if we are going to be seeing each other like this on a basis, we might as well get to know each other."

He sighed. "Just because you made a joke that I thought was a tad bit comical, don't think that we are friends."

"Wow, that stick up your ass must be real deep." I whispered, trying to scrub off this stubborn piece of dry paint.

He stopped his actions and quirked an eyebrow as he stared at me. "Excuse me, what did you say?"

My eyes got big, and I quickly said, "Oh well, i said that I'm having a blast and that you are sweet?" I didn't even convince myself.

He turned his whole body towards me and stood closer as he towered over me. "Don't talk to me like that again." The authority that sparked from his eyes made me breathe harsh. "And if you're going to say something, make sure it is heard. Might as well not lie about it." He stared into my eyes a little bit more before he turned back to the sink.

I was turned on. At a bad time at that.

We moved on in silence. I never felt this awkward in my life. I also never met a person that I couldn't break ice with no matter how hard I tried. So stern, closed, and grumpy.

For some reason, I was compelled to break him down. Break those walls down, so I could see the true him.

But I wasn't going to dwell on that for long since I had a upcoming date with Nathan, and I could tell it would probably be like no other.