The Professor

Chapter Two| Regrets

I make Nicole and I blueberry pancakes and coffee, figuring she'll need substance if she's to make it through today's lectures. Our kitchen is the perfect combination of rustic and modern, and I absolutely adore how it's stocked with all the essentials. The white marble counter tops provide the perfect space for cooking and give off a premium vibe. It's open plan, and the only thing separating the kitchen from the living area is a breakfast bar with two stools on either side.

"I'm never drinking again," moans Nicole, emerging from her bedroom like a hot mess.

She's still in last night's dress.

"Uh-huh. I've heard that one before."

"I mean it this time. My head is banging."

I flip a pancake and retrieve a packet of paracetamol from my purse. "Here. Take these."

"Thanks," she says, downing the prescribed dose, minus any water. "Ugh. How did we even get home?"

"I called your brother."

She cringes. "Which one?"

There's more than one?

"James."

Her face relaxes. "Well, at least you didn't call Freddie."

"Why? What's so bad about Freddie?" I ask, dishing up our food and handing her a fork.

She immediately recoils, but I stand my ground.

"Eat!"

She relents, stabbing at the pancake. "He's a police officer."

Oh.

"Jamie wasn't pissed, was he? He may be better than Freddie but he's still overly protective at times."

I don't know why, but that particular personality trait thrills me.

"He was fine."

She chews on her mouthful for a while, and eventually leaves her plate practically untouched. "I'll call him before he starts work. He'll worry otherwise."

She slides off of the stool and slumps back towards her bedroom. I don't say anything, but it's becoming routine for Nicole to leave her food. I know she's suffering from a severe hangover, but I worry she's not eating enough. If anything, it's important to eat more after a night of heavy drinking.

I quickly gather the plates and pile them into the sink, hearing Nicole's muffled voice. I wonder what James is saying to her? I imagine it's a combination of brotherly concern and a well intended lecture. He strikes me as the type who choses his words wisely. I haven't managed to get the image of him out of my mind. And I know I shouldn't, but I'd give anything to be back in that car with him. My track record with boys is pretty lame, due to the fact I lack any social skills. In fact, come to think of it, I've never clicked with anyone like that. James brought out my flirtatious side, and that's massive seeing as I normally shy away from that sort of interaction. Perhaps it's because he's older? Or perhaps it's because he quoted Laurence Carter? 

Thoughts of James disappear as the sound of my phone rings. I run to my bedroom and answer it, smiling upon seeing it's my dad.

"Hey!"

"Hey, post-grad."

I laugh.

"How's things? How's Mum?"

"All good," he assures. "Lara misses you."

"Is she there?" I ask. "Put her on."

There's muffling on the other end, followed by my sister's sweet greeting.