Slowly, the chaos calmed, first the sound and then the water. As the world returned to normal, her eyes adjusted and she stood, speechless, motionless, dripping from head to toe.
“Are you okay?” He was beside her before her brain fully processed what had happened. “Here.” Maxwell pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Gently, he dabbed the fabric around her eyes, soaking up the droplets that fell from her lashes and splashed over her cheeks.
The water drew back into the sprinkler heads that lined the quad. With the threat of drowning gone, her mind switched gears. It was silly, but with her eyes clear and focused on him, there was only one thought—I must look awful. The neat pencil skirt that had made her feel sophisticated hung from her hips like a croker sack. The cool belted tunic that had her feeling so sophisticated was a thin, tropical-weight wool. Now, the stench of wet animal lifted off her in a nauseating way.
She felt like a wet rat, clawing to get out of a sewer drain. And she hated that she cared so much. But she did.
“Th-thank you.” Talia turned away, wiping a wet finger under her eyes to remove the black that was certainly running down her cheeks. What else could she do? It was then that she saw the enormous orange signs blocking every walkway access on the quad. The same general shape and color of the sign sitting at the library’s front entrance. The sign she had breezed right past—assuming it was warning of a newly mopped floor.
“Maintenance is working on the sprinklers.” Maxwell grimaced as he looked her over. Her chin trembled, not because she was cold, or even about to cry. But because his presence was suddenly unnerving her. And with good reason. She glanced down at her perfect kitten heels sinking into the soaking sod and saw that, in addition to its awful smell, tropical-weight wool did nothing to hide the rock-hard nipples that were basically slicing through it.
“Oh, what am I thinking?” Maxwell smacked his forehead again, slid out of his coat, and flung it cape style over her shoulders. Its warmth seemed to warm her to the marrow in seconds. Covered, and protected from any prying eyes, she felt a surge of confidence flow back into her. Pulling the lapels together at her neck, she noticed the tiny droplets of water pooled on the shoulders. Had he run into the sprinklers for her? Her face flew up to his, and seeing salted chocolate hair matted at his temples, she had to smile. Yes, he had run into the chaos for her.
“I’m such an idiot.” She shrugged and had no choice but to laugh at her situation. “I walked right past the sign in the lobby. I’ve got a million things on my mind, and I—” She bit her bottom lip. “Now you’re all wet, too.”
Maxwell waved a hand and pffted his lips.
“When I agreed to be your mentor, I didn’t know I’d be expected to spoon-feed the basics, too, like how to avoid sprinklers and basic campus safety.” He put a hand behind his head, scratching as he thought. “This is going to be a lot harder than I expected.” His face wrinkled with worry.
“What? I…” Talia fought to find words, but none came to her defense.
“Teasing.” Maxwell smiled. “Scientists can have personalities, you know. I can be silly. I’m not always so serious.”
Wait…was he joking with her? She remembered their earlier conversation.
“Are we really back to that again?” Talia cocked her head and fixed him in a hard glare.
Seconds passed. Smiles teased the corner of their mouths and, somehow, Talia had almost forgotten she was standing in the middle of campus, soaked to the bone. Almost. How had he done that?
“Maxwell!” A woman’s voice called from the edge of the sidewalk. “Maxwell, we’re going to be late.”
His head snapped around. Followed by Talia’s. On the sidewalk, Tamara Kline stood on her tiptoes, waving, in a long, flowy skirt and cropped jean jacket. Beautiful, confident, and dry. Talia swallowed the discomfort that swirled in her belly.
Maxwell waved back and turned to Talia.
“I’ve gotta, um—” He put his hands on Talia’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Are you okay?”
Talia nodded and wiped a droplet from her forehead.
“Keep it.” He pulled the buttons of his coat together, fastening the top one. “I’ll get it later.” An easy smile was the only goodbye he offered before turning to join the perfectly put together art professor. Buttoning his sleeve as he walked, he glanced over his shoulder for one last look, obviously entertained by the situation. “Try to stay out of the sprinklers, kid.”
Kid.
Talia shivered under his coat, the word colder than the wet clothes hanging from her body.
Was that what he thought of her?
A little kid.
One he’d have to spoon-feed.
Chapter 8
Talia
His blazer looked out of place on the padded hanger Talia chose for it. Pink folded satin and heavy brown tweed didn’t exactly go together, but it was all she had. Her lips twitched as she plucked a hair from the collar and hung in on the bedroom door hook next to her work bag.
Balancing the towel wrapped around her head with one hand, she grasped a flower knob to open her dresser drawer with the other. Neatly folded rows ran like a deck of cards from front to back. The thick side of the fold showing to make it easier to find what she wanted. Her favorite comfy pants—a pair of sweats with the two-toned rubberized letters of good ole CHS, barely visible after a million washes. They were feather soft and the threads had managed to contour to her exact shape over the years. She pulled on a T-shirt and slipped into the only remaining pair of Chuck Taylors that hadn’t been donated or packed away.
Flopping down on her bed, she came to rest in the usual position—flat on her belly, knees bent, elbows propped, ankles crossed and swinging slowly from side to side. She picked at a spot of nail polish that had been on her bedspread since the pants were brand new. Sally Hansen didn’t make the color anymore, and that was a shame. The lines of an old henna tattoo on her inner wrist were fading.
She was drawn to henna—a hobby with history. Every design meant something and had for eons—never changing. The design on her wrist had been there since graduation. A lotus blossom to symbolize new beginnings. Her skin was so pale that long-lasting ink lasted forever. With all the transitions in her life, she’d nearly forgotten it was there. She was trying to change, or at least embrace, the idea of it. And in its own small way, the temporary tattoo gave her courage. Or at least reminded her to try.
Grabbing a henna pen from her desk, she settled back down and carefully retraced the design, her shower-softened skin drinking in the ink. When she finished, she smiled at her work, blew on the design to help it dry, and grabbed her phone to start planning the rest of her week.