The Weight of Words (The WORDS Series) (2 page)

The room was already crowded, but I scouted out an empty aisle seat near a heating vent by the door and made myself comfortable. The air blasting from the heater smelled faintly of wet gym socks. I wrinkled my nose but stayed put, prepared to suck it up. I was way too cold to switch seats.

A flurry of movement at the front of the room signaled Professor Brown’s arrival. I craned my neck around the people sitting in front of me and watched as he settled in behind the podium, smiling at the assembled students. I’d taken two of Professor Brown’s courses in the past, and we’d always had an awesome rapport—a definite bonus. His smile always made me think of my grandfather—a combination of cheekiness and unquestionable wisdom. I couldn’t think of a better way to round out my course load as I neared graduation.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, moving over to the oak door and peering at his watch. “Or should I say
good afternoon?
I gather you’re all here because you have an immeasurable love for the Bard and his works, and if that’s not true, best make a speedy retreat now. I’ll close my eyes for thirty seconds so you can run for it.”

He made a show of covering his eyes. The class laughed politely as he peeked through his fingers.

“No takers? Excellent!” He closed the door soundly. “My name is Martin Brown, and I’ll be your guide as you pursue your own passionate inquiry into some facet of the great Master’s work. We will read some of his plays and sonnets together, but you will also chart your own course, studying an aspect of this unparalleled dramatist’s work which most appeals to you.”

Around the room, many of my forty or so peers smiled and whispered to each other. During this brief interlude, we were interrupted when the door reopened and a young man with a now-familiar head of dark messy hair flew in and headed straight toward Professor Brown.

“So sorry I’m late, sir,” he murmured, moving past the professor to drop his bag on the table at the front of the room.

Professor Brown turned back to the class with a warm smile and gestured toward the newcomer. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to my graduate teaching assistant, Daniel Grant.”

At that point, Dean Grant’s son turned around and I saw his face for the first time as he scanned the room. He had the most glorious blue eyes I’d ever seen.

Shakespeare who?

Chapter 2

Playing the Fool

The fool doth think he is wise,
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
(
As You Like It,
Act V, Scene 1)

P
ROFESSOR
B
ROWN
M
OTIONED
F
OR
D
ANIEL
to take a seat at the wide table at the front of the room and then continued his introduction to the course. He might as well have been speaking Egyptian for all I heard. I was completely distracted by the young man sitting behind the table, appraising the students before him. He seemed tense, probably still reeling from his earlier argument with his father.

I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from his features. My first impression of him earlier that morning had been right on the money. Unlike his father, he had a complete disregard for his appearance. Half of his collar was tucked inside the neck of his shirt, and there was an enormous hole in the knee of his jeans. If he was going for the absent-minded professor look, he was on the right track. Yet despite his shoddy grooming, his glorious eyes, defined cheekbones, and full lips tipped the scales completely to the other side. Simply put, he was gorgeous.

As he tossed his head to flick the hair out his eyes, I found myself mirroring his gesture, my own headshake an attempt to make myself focus on Professor Brown who was gesturing toward Daniel and suggesting he go through the tutorial process. Daniel stood and pulled his bag toward the podium.

“Yes, as Professor Brown said, I’ll be the TA for this course. I’ll attend classes along with you, and I’ll be responsible for evaluating some of your term work,” he explained. “You’ll each participate in one tutorial a week. The class will be split into three fairly equal seminar groups, and part of your course mark will be a result of the effort you put into these tutorials. I’ll post these sign-up sheets outside the seminar room downstairs tomorrow morning at quarter to nine.”

He gestured to three crumpled sheets. Were those the papers he’d mashed into his bag earlier? I suppressed a smile. He really was a hot mess.

“It’s up to you to get here early tomorrow to secure the tutorial spot you’d prefer, and the first session will be on Wednesday,” he added, casting his eyes around the room. As his eyes flickered over mine, my stomach flipped.

What the hell?

“Are there any questions?” he asked. I saw movement in my peripheral vision. “Yes? Go ahead, name first, please,” Daniel said.

“Hi, I’m Cara. Cara Switzer.”

I stifled a groan. Of course. When I leaned forward, I noticed her D-cups—her best asset—commanding the attention of all the males in her general vicinity. Even a couple of females looked suitably impressed. Having taken a couple of courses with Cara in the past, I remembered her inability to string together an intelligible phrase and braced myself.

“I was wondering,” she said, her inflection going up at the end and making the statement sound like a question. “If we, like, need
extra
help, will you be available in your office to meet and stuff like that?”

Her inane question along with its suggestive undertone aroused a few muffled titters. I glanced at Daniel, interested in his reaction. A muscle in his jaw twitched before he looked at Professor Brown, who merely waved his hand at his TA as if to say, “You’re on your own with this one.”

“Well, I don’t actually have an office of my own, but it’s incumbent on me to be available at certain fixed times to discuss any questions or difficulties you might have,” Daniel said. “Of course, you could make an appointment outside of those times as well.”

I peered around at Cara who was making a show of nodding innocently, her
genuinely intelligent inquiry
answered. She didn’t fool me. I was sure she was racking her brain to figure out what the word “incumbent” meant.

Daniel took his seat, and Professor Brown proceeded to deliver an introductory lecture, which I did my level best to pay attention to despite the epic distraction sitting at the front of the room. After a thirty-minute spiel, Professor Brown gathered his papers into a neat pile.

“Okay, folks, we’ll leave it there for today,” he said. “You know from your reading list that you’re to have read
Hamlet
before Wednesday. It’s a whopper to start with, but ‘
though this be madness, yet there’s method in’t
.’”

He looked around the room, one eyebrow raised. This was a challenge. Among those who took his classes, Professor Brown was known for quoting Shakespeare from time to time and expecting someone to be able to identify the play, the character, or the scene. He continued to look around, but no one was biting, perhaps not realizing what he was waiting for.

I raised my hand reluctantly.

“Miss Price! Nice to see you again. Taking a stab at it, are we?”

“Yes, sir.” I saw Daniel lean forward at the front table, perching his chin on his clasped hands. “The speaker is Polonius in act two of
Hamlet
, reacting to the strange behavior of King Claudius’s nephew,” I said, confident in my knowledge of the play.

“Nicely done, Miss Price.” Professor Brown’s smile was complimentary. “I see you haven’t lost your impeccable attention to detail. I’m eager to see what topic you select for study this semester.” He nodded to indicate he was done for the day, and people began to gather their belongings and move toward the door.

I snuck a glance at Daniel. He’d relaxed back in his seat, rubbing his chin as he appraised me. I held his gaze boldly, and he tilted his head forward, as if to commend me for impressing Professor Brown. I averted my eyes, stomach somersaulting again.

What, now I’m in grade nine?

When I looked up again, Cara was flouncing past the table at the front of the room with one of her ditzy friends. “Have a good afternoon,
sir,
” she purred, sashaying toward the door, and then giggling at her dopey girlfriend beside her, mouthing, “I know, right?” She wasn’t even remotely discreet.

Daniel nodded at the two idiotic girls, remaining seated and busying himself with his wrinkly papers. I was pulled out of my reverie by a sudden noise behind me—a girl clambering down the aisle and then throwing her arms around my neck.

“Aub! It’s so good to see you!”

“Julie? I’m so glad you’re here!”

My enthusiastic greeting was entirely genuine. Julie Harper and I had taken several courses together over the last three years, hanging out between classes and sitting together at lectures. We’d been in touch on Facebook over the past few months, but we’d both been busy and struggled to find time to meet in person. I was happy to see we’d be able to rekindle our easy friendship.

“I didn’t see you when I came in,” I said. “Where were you sitting?”

“I was at the back. Normally I don’t care if I can’t see anything as long as I can hear, but I was kicking myself today,” she added, her voice dropping to a lower register. “If you know what I’m sayin’.”

She raised one eyebrow and gave her head a subtle bob toward the front of the room where Daniel was doing his best to iron out the three wrinkly papers. I put on a face of mock horror. “Julie Harper, I am shocked and appalled at what you’re suggesting.”

She laughed. “I’ve missed you, girl,” she said. “We’ll get caught up later, okay? I’ve gotta run. Rehearsal in fifteen minutes on the other side of campus.”

“Rehearsal,” I said, pointing to the tightly coiled blond bun perched on the top of her head. “That explains it.”

“I know, right?” she said. “Super attractive. Look, let’s grab a coffee or something after we sign up for the tutorial tomorrow.”

“For sure.”

She smiled and squeezed my arm before pulling on a striped toque and racing out the door. I gathered my belongings and made my way out into the corridor in time to see Daniel heading down the stairs. It was the second time in as many hours that I’d seen him walking away from me, and this time I checked out his ass. I cursed the wrinkly untucked shirt, but I must say, from what I could see—it was a very fine ass indeed.

At the bottom of the stairs, his phone rang. He fumbled in his pocket, answering as he walked.

“Penny!” he exclaimed. “What a coincidence. I was about to call you. How are you, love?”

Love? Damn it!

I clenched my teeth in disappointment, but really, what the hell was I thinking? I’d been aware of his existence for all of two hours and somehow I felt as if I had some claim? I scoffed at how ridiculous I was being. But did that stop me from following him?

Hell no.

On the contrary, I found myself listening in on yet another one of Daniel’s private conversations, but whereas the first time I’d tried to remove myself, this time I did the opposite, picking up my pace so I could stay close behind him and eavesdrop. Though I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, I could guess what the girl had told him based on his reply.

“Miss you? Ha! Completely inconsolable is more like it,” he said.

We were almost at the exit when he stopped and leaned against the wall near the large double doors. Worried he’d turn and see me following him, I spun around to face the giant bulletin board on the wall, feigning interest in the flyers and ads attached to it as I listened.

“Well, rest assured, I’ll be taking you out for a lovely meal on Valentine’s Day, so prepare to be wined and dined,” he said, laughing gently. “All right…I love you, too, Penn. Okay, I have a ton of shit to get done. I’ll call you later?” After a brief pause he added, “Will do, love. Bye for now.”

He hung up, quickly punched a number into his phone and waited. I stood, rooted to the spot, and listened to yet another one-sided conversation during which he spoke to someone named Geoffrey and made a dinner reservation for two for seven thirty on February fourteenth. The boy wasted no time.

At the end of the call, he jammed his phone into his pocket and strode toward the doors, completely oblivious to my existence.

After he left the building, I opened the door a crack. He was crossing King’s College circle near a row of cars parked bumper to bumper on the other side of the street. I leaned against the building’s stone entryway as he approached a spotless black BMW, unlocked the car, and threw his bag in the trunk. Within moments, he’d hopped in and was off toward University Avenue.

I let out a shaky breath which became a snort as I got a sudden objective view of my behavior. What in the living hell was I doing? I was like a junior high student following around my latest crush like a puppy dog, trying to figure out his class schedule so I could conveniently
appear out of nowhere
at the most opportune moment.