Chapter Eleven

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Zoe POV

I waited outside Professor Grahaem's office; looking at the terrible artwork which had been completed by some of the art students. I mean, if they were good enough to get into a University course, shouldn't they have some idea of what a good painting should be? But, what would I know? I'm not an artist, I've only ever been to the Louvre twice in my life. 

I began to pick and bite the skin around my cuticles. Waiting always made me nervous; but this reminded me too much of high-school. 

I heard footsteps down the hallway and saw Professor Grahaem walk briskly towards me. He was tall, around six feet. He had short but wavy, dark, black hair, his eyes were a bright emerald green, his voice was husky; the one thing I didn't like about him was his wolfish smile.

"Good morning, Zoe."

"Good morning, Professor."

"Please, let's drop the formalities, call me Peter." He grinned, wolfish and predatory. 

I smiled back; awkward and uncomfortable. 

"Well, Peter" the word sounded foreign, and didn't roll of my tongue. He nodded, coaxing me to continue, 

"Shall we discuss my results?"

"It's definitely too early in the morning for that type of discussion, how about a coffee?"

"I already had one."

"Nonsense, was it from the place down the road?"

I nodded.

"They make terrible coffee. Terrible." 

I made no movement or comment.

"Let's go somewhere else for coffee, maybe a little Parisian cafe." He continued.

I noticed that he used the word 'Parisian' instead of 'French'; he was more acute than general. 

He waited for me to stand up before leading me down the hallway, his hand hovered at the small of my back; not placing his hand there, but just enough so that I could feel the warmth of his hand. 

We glided next to each other and began to fall instep with one another; if I was single, I would be flattered and giddy, but because I had a Daddy, I could feel nothing but nauseous and intolerable. 

His hand still hovered by the time we left the campus; if anyone saw us together, they could easily assume we were an attractive couple. Other women looked me up and down when I walked with him; the same way they looked at me whenever I walked with Luke, except this time, I didn't have a collar on. 

I stopped walking and he moved his hand away, I got my black beanie out of my handbag - which Luke thought looked very cute on me - Peter offered to hold my bag for me whilst I put on my beanie; I took advantage of this opportunity to ask him to hold my compact mirror for me too.

"Does the Queen need her lipstick too?" He asked jokingly.

"She's a princess, and yes, she does." I replied, my lips curling upwards. 

I realised instantly that this was the same coy smile that I saved for Luke, the same smile that used to get me into trouble with other men. 

My smile vanished as he handed me the lipstick; I applied it with care, my hands began to shake, Peter grabbed the lipstick out of my hand and applied it for me. I gave him another awkward smile and he handed me back my handbag with everything in its correct compartment. 

"You have a very sexy smile, especially when your upper lip curls." He remarked.

"I get told that a lot."

"Really? By whom?"

"My boyfriend." 

He never even flinched. He reached his hand up to my face to move a strand of my brown hair out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ear, 

"He's very lucky." 

"He knows." I responded.

He chuckled and gave me another wolfish grin. I groaned inwardly.

"Shall we get coffee now?" He asked. 

We walked off together once more and continued to let his hand hover behind the small of my back. I told him that I had a boyfriend, I had done the right thing, hadn't I? I had made it clear that I was taken, but I guess I hadn't made it clear enough. 

We reached his idea of a Parisian cafe; the seats out the front were similar to the ones in Paris, but the croissants definitely did not look as good. 

"Did you want anything to eat?" He enquired. 

"No, thanks."

"Come on, Zoe, you can't possibly not eat anything, a girl like you cannot possibly survive on bad coffee alone."

I had to forget myself and giggle for just one moment. 

"Are crepes ok?" He asked.

"That will be fine. How much do I owe you?" 

"Don't be so ridiculous, just sit and enjoy yourself." 

I opened my bag once more and got out a cigarette, lit it and took a deep inhale of tar and smoke. 

He looked at me in disbelief, "you smoke?"

"Evidently so." Was my response.

Our food arrived and I suddenly realised I was ravenous; I ate all of my crepes within record time of six minutes.

"I like a girl with appetite." 

I laughed, "So does Luke, my boyfriend."

He smiled politely. 

"So, your grades, Zoe, they're generally pretty good." 

I nodded solemnly. 

"But, they're not the best I've seen from you; you need to try a lot harder."

"I will, Peter." 

"Because, the next time we have breakfast together, I want it to be about something more special."

"The next time?"

"Well, maybe if you can convince your Luke that you can go out with a friend."

"Maybe this isn't entirely appropriate."

"Why not? Is he your father?"

"Actually, Peter, he's my Daddy and you're my Professor."

"You're one of those girls."

"I sure am."

He looked me up and down once more.

"Don't ever confuse your role with me." I continued. 




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