Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Even He Feels It
Her eyes bounced back and forth between the student and the professor. He appeared to be as puzzled as she was as he held his chin and watched the blonde dash out of the classroom. Why was she afraid of him? Chloe felt like she could relate, as he was making her breathless just being close.
But it wasn't from the same kind of fear.
Could someone that good-looking and worldly ever find her ... cute? She told herself that she was being ridiculous. He could never be interested in a person like her.
She'd never been out of the U.S. even for a brief visit much less lived away from here.
Despite her doubts about her experience, however, Chloé left the classroom knowing that he was going to consume her thoughts for the rest of the day into the night. She couldn't help it. How could a man like that be her professor? At least she had found the motivation she'd require to get to class when it was cold out!
In the back of her mind, she wondered about the interaction with the other student, but her attraction to him quickly swept that way.
***
As she drove home to her apartment she wondered where he lived. After parking, she rushed inside to get online. She had some research to conduct.
Doctor Kemal Hakkan had been in her home state instructing at the university for two years. There were numerous peer-reviewed articles he had published including topics about bipolar disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). She wondered if perhaps he had one or both of those, then felt a twinge of compassion for him.
The more she found out about him, however, the more intense her crush became. Not only was he physically captivating, but he was brilliant. What would the next class with him reveal? Chloe wasn't sure if she could wait that long.
***
Wednesday could not come fast enough. Throughout the day, while attending her other classes, she had to repeatedly tell herself to be patient. She didn't want to get too fixated. But it was far too late.
Finally, the time came. As she opened her notebook, she found herself drawing romantic stick figures and a plethora of hearts. Why was she already feeling this way about him? She flipped onto a new page after retrieving her book, then began to take notes as a distraction attempt.
When he walked by, it was by the same route, which was through the door and up her aisle. As soon as he was at the front of the class, he spun around and locked eyes with Chloé. She felt her chest and throat tighten with excitement. He had to feel a little something for her, right?
She touched the collar of her shirt wishing she could be one of those temptresses worthy of siren lore, captivating him, sensually removing her tight ...
'Ugh! Why am I thinking like this? This is so intense! I've GOT to calm down.'
As he slipped on a pair of thin, green-framed glasses he appeared more scholarly. Chloé attempted a quick read on him. Perhaps, the glasses were a chance to distance himself from anyone seeing how he felt. Or maybe he was just farsighted.
'I'd be the worst therapist.'
When her internal argument nearly took away her concentration, he spoke. All the static and negative self-talk was cleared. His voice was now her focus and schoolwork kept her centered. She began to fervently take notes.
Most of the topics he spoke about were from the first few chapters of the book. She had read it multiple times before coming. If he ever called on her for an answer, she'd be ready. Until he asked for her opinion.
"Chloé? Did you find the section about post-traumatic stress disorder interesting?"
Chloé tried to hold back her blushing response. After all of her obsessing Monday night, she knew he was an expert on that topic. She finally nodded before finding her voice.
"Yes," she answered nervously, pulling on a pink strand of her hair.
"And what did you find the most interesting or surprising?"
"The fact that the hippocampus tries, but usually can't help you calm down when experiencing an attack?" Her voice had a questioning inflection at the end, an audible indication of her insecurity.
"Excellent," Professor Hakkan said. "I bet you'd never guess that, would you class? With PTSD, a triggering memory comes on, or a reminder of the trauma experienced, like a certain scent, causing alarm, which becomes a feedback loop when the amygdala is overly excited, and the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex cannot inhibit excitation. But," he paused, pointing at the ceiling, "there are methods, thankfully, to combat triggers."
A close-lipped smile and a tiny nod from him filled her with elation.
Again, like on Monday, class ended earlier than the set time. It was making her feel sad, having to leave. There were nearly five whole days until the next class. As she packed up her bag, she lingered, hoping he'd ask her to stay.
'Am I out of my mind? Why would he?'
She double-checked his office hours on the syllabus. She could barely hide her disappointment when she was reminded that they were on Thursday. She had no other reason to come to campus, but to be with him would be worth it.
She watched as he stood up and put his laptop away. When he slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, he had plenty of other aisle space to go down, but he chose her row. When he brushed against her slightly, he turned to her and apologized. She was prompt with a smile as she gazed into his unique eyes.
"That's okay," she said.
He flashed her a grin and continued to walk away. She observed his energetic pace, watching him pull out his keys. She wondered what kind of car he drove, what he liked to eat, and what he wore at night when he slept. Did he have some kind of clothing that he draped upon his beautiful body or was he in the nude?
As she imagined him head to toe, she had to stop herself, feeling giddy bashfulness overcome her. She giggled out loud and then shyly covered her mouth. She'd better leave before she scared her fellow classmates. A few were staring.
He was already changing her, and it was scary. Or was she delightfully fearful? It was exciting and new. What would Thursday bring?
***
The next day she made her way to campus looking forward to their office meeting.The weather was uncharacteristically warm. September was just around the corner and the backdrop of partially turned leaves made for a beautiful day. It was a good sign.
As Chloé walked into the Paxton building, she made her way down to the psychology department. His office was listed as room "302", however, the layout of the department wasn't intuitive. She used to know this place by heart, but having been gone so long, she was lost.
There were a few voices that she heard coming from the offices and hallways. She tried desperately to see if she could decipher whether he was among them, but was unsuccessful. As she traveled toward the back of the building, she realized the office numbers were out of order. She sighed in frustration, about to turn around when she saw him step out of a side room directly in front of her.
She nearly gasped audibly, not only from him surprising her but his appearance. He was in a vividly orange short-sleeved polo shirt with thin white stripes on the chest and soft light blue worn-in jeans. The colors made his bronze-shaded complexion stand out. He jumped but then held his chest, smiling.
"Hi," Chloé said with a nervous wave.
Chloé thought it was cute that he had Converse sneakers on. Seeing youthful clothes on someone older and intellectual like him was endearing. She was melting as her eyes continued to scan him. His shirt was slightly open, and she could see the raven-colored hair climbing nearly to his neck. It matched the exposed hair on his forearms.
Desperately avoiding the need to close her eyes, she forced herself to look at his face.
"Hello, Chloé Masters. Are you in need of assistance?" he asked, his voice and accent so charming. Whatever product he used in his hair had a pleasant aroma. Again, like in class, she was unable to speak coherently, at first. Finally, she spit it out.
"I am," she said. "I mean, your office hours are now, right?" Sudden irrational fear overwhelmed her. Was she bothering him? Did she get the time wrong?
"Yes," he smiled at her. "I'll be right back. You can have a seat inside."
Chloé smiled back and walked to the chair in front of his desk. The room smelled sweet and musky since he'd probably been sitting here with the door closed. Maybe, if she were lucky, she'd find out what the scent of his skin was like. Nervously, she glanced around the room, investigating.
She was afraid of being caught but was itching to discover more.
There were pictures of him with the same woman in a few and others with a man. Her heart sank. What if he were taken? Her fantasy about the two of them would be quashed. And she needed the fantasy right now.
She tried to figure out how she should pose when he came back. Would her chin in hand seem more scholarly? Did he think the pink highlights in her hair were outdated or childish? When she heard his footsteps coming down the hall, she remained in her signature slouch.
Speedily, he entered. When he sat down, he appeared frazzled.
"Are you okay?" she asked, spontaneously. He tilted his head, and his mouth opened a bit. Perhaps that was too much prying. Or was he pleasantly surprised by her concern?
"I'm under a little bit of stress," he admitted. Then he shook his head and smiled. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that."
"It's okay," she assured him and smiled warmly. "Stress can do that." He returned a relaxed grin and then clasped his hands together.
"So, Chloé, now that we're both here, what can I do for you?"
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone