28 Anna Hours
"Yes, I am a talented man, but on paper, it is not my expertise. And I would prefer keeping myself mysterious," he finished pointedly, looking at her.
She rolled her eye. "You stand out as it is. And I guessed you would know a thing or two about radical religion, seeing how you move with people in cults," she sniffed.
He raised a brow. "I think the Crusades are a better example of why I know so much about it," he snapped back.
She didn't pay attention to his nonsense. "As long as you are advising me behind the scene," she demanded. "The entire thing is about religious cults and I won't find another expert—"
"Well, I can put you in touch with the cult woman you saw me with. She is particularly talented in brainwashing people."
"I don't need to hear that," she said immediately, raising her hand. It was bad for her to get curious.
He chuckled and it sent a shiver down her spine, settling somewhere in her stomach.
"So much for being formal with me. You made such a show of respecting me during lectures that I forgot what an ill-mannered brat you are. Peeking into rooms and prying into other people's business." He relished his words as he advanced on her and came to perch on the desk.
This time, the shiver carried danger.
"Professor Forrester. Professor Forester who works with cults…" the words rolled out of her mouth easily as she stood up from her chair to throw her paper cup in the trash.
He rolled his eyes and sat down in his own chair. Finally, she was safe on the other side.
"Don't call me that outside of this office. I hate cults with a fiery passion. If you do, I will stop helping you." There was petulance in the words which surprised Anna.
She considered him silently and he lifted his brow in question. So far she had seen him react in three ways: amused, sarcastic, curious. Was there anything else he felt?
"Why are you helping me?" she asked him after a few minutes. "I was sure you would decline."
She thought about the coffee and the boxed lunch. "You pity me?" she asked directly. She did not want to be seen as some kind of weak child in need of his help.
He grinned. He was pleased with himself. "I'm interested in you, Miss Dunn," he said simply.
It sounded like a profession of love, but to Anna's ears, they were the most dangerous way to form a sentence.
- - - - -
And so it continued. Ladislas had office hours.
Predictably, Anna completely disregarded it much like he suspected she disregarded rules in her daily life and routinely showed up purposefully a few minutes after his hours. She brought annotated notes and extensive research in tow. The fourth time it happened, he sighed in frustration.
"Miss Dunn, my office hours exist for a reason."
She tilted her head and watched his expression as she thought about her answer. "We decided on doing this behind the scenes. I would not want to encroach on the hours of the other students."
"But you are encroaching on my time," he groaned.
"Well, you have office hours and Anna hours now." She paused. "They are different."
Ladislas noticed her lack of certainty at the joke, so he accepted her bravado and said nothing more on the matter. He didn't have anything fun to do after grueling hours of work. Better talk to her than anything else.
Besides, it was less of him helping her write the thesis and more of them debating on various points within it. She, predictably, didn't listen to his directives and argued tooth and nail until she was satisfied that his was the best idea. He loved it. It was so much better than marking papers.
Within one week, Anna had achieved greater progress than any of the other students. She had even roped in another professor, a female professor who gave her the direction and support she needed. Anna was busy enough to stop coming to Ladislas' office every day.
But she didn't stop.
On the days she was a minute later than she usually was, he would stare at the door longingly. Realizing the charm of her presence was like noticing how your blood rushed through your fingertips when it was clenched for too long. He was painfully aware of every time his blood pumped through his body no matter what they were talking about. Indeed, the entire hour with them arguing, legs crossed, hands cupping the mug of coffee… He knew that the caffeine tasted much better with her confident and bright presence.
He had thought that getting to know her would disillusion him… make him bored of her. But it didn't happen. Some of those times, he was beyond busy and needed to rush home. But he didn't. Their arguments deviated from the main topic soon. It went from the thesis to law and politics… to crime and governance. Eventually, world issues blended into food, music, and fashion.
They never spoke informally or in a way inappropriate between a teacher and a student. Sometimes she would slip a word or two about a nugget of information on him she had found to throw him off guard. She always spoke those sentences slowly, the words seemingly comfortable coming from her tongue. The sly injections should have made him think her clumsy, but instead, he was captivated by her determination to goad him on.
- - - - -
She received the call at midnight. The ringing of the phone came from the locked drawer in her room and she padded to it and pried it open quickly. This phone was especially for her work. If she missed the call, she would never get another one.
She pulled the phone to her ear and heard silence on the other end.
She got her cue. "The book was good," she prompted.
