FERVOR

Ch. 9

Layla

Briskly walking with the late voucher in hand from Mr. Davenport, Layla came face to face with disappointment.

Unfortunately, the sign pasted on the door reading 'Due to Ms.Theodora Clarke's absence, Art 102 is dismissed. Thank you' , explained that there would be no Art class today.

Ms. Clarke had been out on a personal day. Apparently, her son was getting married in the Bahamas. Theodora had showed their class endless pictures of her son, Brandon and his fiancee, Chad. Good for them. And while Layla was genuinely happy for the couple, the fact that her favorite class was nonexistent today, was a bit of a bummer.

She figured that the rest of her class decided to ditch and leave campus. So, without any other plan, Layla took a seat at the campus coffee shop. Being that she wasn't much of a coffee fan, Layla chose a cinnamon bun from the display case. She never could refuse a sweet treat, especially when they looked and smelled as good as that one did.

Getting comfy in the plush purple loveseat, Layla set her sketchbook on the table, simultaneously tearing small bits from her cinnamon bun. She took a moment to date the bottom, right corner of her paper before continuing, succumbing to a new journey. The decadent, rich spices swirled throughout her mouth, inspiring her hands to move on their own accord. Subtle notes of clove encouraged smooth lines created by her pencil, yet it scraped the paper with every chance it got. Layla had fallen into a trance. Her eyes closed and she gave all trust to her skilled fingers. To anyone else, she must have seemed unhinged. But this was exactly what made Layla an artist. A very talented one at that. She didn't have to rely upon her eyes to create a masterpiece. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She put her entire being into each one of her pieces, regardless of whether it was a grand painting or a simple drawing. Rarely did she create with open eyes. She trusted her body far more than judgment by vision. Centering her energy around the paper once again, Layla allowed herself to summon everything she held within. At this point, she didn't even know what was on that paper. But it didn't matter in the slightest. It was part of the journey.

After several minutes of navigating around the paper, her hands had finally stilled. With little notion of what she had created, she finally opened her eyes. Sketched on the crisp paper, was a man. Mr. Davenport to be exact. Some may have deemed it as strange, but Layla thought little of it, as she liked to draw beautiful things. Though he exuded an "asshole vibe" upon first meet, she couldn't deny that he was intriguing. And with a beautiful physique and complex features, Mr. Davenport was an artist's muse.

Deciding she'd better get to class early, Layla signed the bottom of the page and headed out.

The hallways were bare. Completely void of any human presence. And as she stepped into Mr. Davenport's room, like she had almost two hours ago, Layla found it quiet and desolate like everywhere else - with the exception of her teacher and the familiar blonde woman at the center.

She took a seat at the back. Far, far away from whatever matters they were discussing. It didn't even seem as though they noticed her, which in this case was probably for the better. Layla didn't want to be a nuisance or interrupt them, but the bell was only a few minutes away from ringing aloud. So, she sat quietly and put in some earbuds. She didn't have any right to know of their personal business.

It was going swell. They hadn't noticed her and seemed to be working through whatever it was they were talking about. But just as she thought it was clear, out of the corner of her eye Layla saw the woman marching up the stairs, a scowl masking her Barbie-like features. And when she made it to the exit, even the earplugs couldn't save her from the harsh slamming of the door.

Damn.

As Layla winced at the sudden noise, she watched her English professor take a graceful seat at his desk. He rubbed his temples and ruffled his hair. He even began loosening his tie, along with a few buttons of his shirt. This man looked as though he was enduring pain. Emotional and mental pain. It made Layla want to reach out and comfort him, like any empathetic person would. She had been there before, stuck in a familiar turmoil that haunted her. But with each passing day, he never ceased to throw her off guard.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that. Things are a bit rough between us right now. We don't seem to be able to communicate like the civil adults we are, not that it's any of your business. But I realize that students often come here in search of peace and quiet, and that was far from it," Mr. Davenport spoke from his desk, startling Layla. Of course he knew she was there. She wasn't exactly sly. But he didn't really mind. Though, it seemed like she was always catching him at an unprofessional time. Layla took her belongings and moved a few rows closer, so she wouldn't have to scream in order to talk to him.

"I'm really sorry, sir. My intentions weren't to eavesdrop or be intrusive. My previous class was canceled, so I thought I'd just come here. And though I know it's none of my concern, I hope the issue gets resolved." She paused and measured his reaction. He didn't seem bothered by her comments, so she continued. "And if I may ask, are you okay?" Layla asked carefully, unsure of how he'd react.

Expecting him to blow up, it surprised her when he remained in his seat and simply stared at her. She watched as his eyes scanned her face and Layla began to fidget. She never liked being under one's scrutiny. But as she focused on his vibrant, blue eyes, she saw them soften. Quite honestly, she preferred them that way, as opposed to his usual sharp glare. For a slight moment their souls seemed to connect. But as soon as the bell rang, the loud ding brought him out of his vulnerable state. He shot out of the chair and proceeded to straighten his appearance. Before scurrying to his office, he turned to face Layla once more.

"I'm fine," Mr. Davenport bit out sardonically, clearly bothered.

...

It would be another fifteen minutes before their English professor returned. Meanwhile, Layla busied herself with some doodling. By the time he came back, each corner of her paper was sporting a unique design.

The remainder of class consisted of working independently on their argumentative essays. Layla had been making significant progress when her phone began to buzz from the depths of her bag. Fishing for her cellphone, she finally accessed the device. Nobody besides Jesse or scammers had ever called her. This number was unfamiliar, but the pit in her stomach was enough to make her answer it. She answered her phone quietly, attempting to go unnoticed. But as soon as the woman on the other end spoke, she was running out of hall 519-E at the speed of lightning, dropping her beloved sketchbook in the process.
______________________________________

Hehe finally an update! Sorry for the long wait. School is almost out and this past week has kicked my arse. But more is soon to follow!!!!!
Xoxo,
_phantom_writer_vl