Dusk till Dawn

2 | Lectures and Nicotine

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Ethan

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Stop staring at me.

I mentally screamed at the dreamy eyed blonde seated in the first row. But composing myself, I cleared my throat, bringing her out of reverie.

"The spinal cord stimulates..."

A hand up in the air, broke the continuity in my lecture. "Yes, Ms..?"

"Davis, sir."

"Yes. Ms. Davis?" I asked promptly, leaning back on my desk and crossing my ankles.

"Professor, is this sort of surgery possible in reality?"

Her question brought up a laugh within me. "Is it not all upto you?" I shot back. Her face flustered and she looked down instantly. I flicked my fingers at her, motioning her to take her seat.

"I mean that the success of a surgery depends on the expertise of the surgeon after all. If you ask me if this surgery is risky, then yes, it is. But is it impossible? No, definitely not. Given a clear history and the necessity of this surgery, sure why not?"

"But Doctor, if instead the tissue is tilted another degree upwards, it would end up in the patient being paralyzed for life, will it not?" A red headed boy asked, raising his hand.

"Exactly Mr. Montgomery. But hell you should be confident of yourself and know the s**t you are supposed to do. If you enter the theatre and then chicken out, mark my words, you will have your license stripped off."

The bell went off, signaling the end of the lesson. I pushed myself off my desk, stretching myself slightly.

"I do not know why all of you all chose this field. Medicine. Specifically, neurology. But whatever you major in. Whoever the big shot you become, you should want to save your patients' lives. When he, she or they enter the theatre they are putting their lives in your hands, trusting you with their priciest possession, it isn't something to be played with for fun. You should crave the need to make the surgery a success. That craving," I paused, looking around at the fifty eight curious heads in front of me.

"That craving will get you into places you never dreamt of," I told them. Their eyes all wide open, hanging on to my words.

"Anyways, that is it for today. Let us wrap it up and don't forget to hand in your assignments before midnight tomorrow. I don't want any of you to call me at two o'clock in the night and blabber about your cat getting a stupid cold," I gave all of them a pointed look before shutting my laptop close.

"Oh and if the assignment is not handed in before the deadline, be ready to pick up your class dismissal letter from the office on Monday morning. I am sure Dr. Hemings will be quite willing to take in students for her radiology class. Class dismissed now, folks," I said rapping my table twice as they all slammed their books shut and started zipping their bags.

Within minutes, the students began to pour out of the class room, a few holding back to take a final note of something.

I signed a couple of library permission slips to borrow some books and another form to check out the laboratory.

The dreamy eyed blonde stayed back as usual.

"Yes, Ms. Hathaway?" I raised my eyebrows, bored.

"Sir, I was just wondering whether you were also in need of an assistant. Most of the other professors have put up their names and I have definitely signed up to be one. I was just wondering whether-"

"Miss. Stop. No, I am not looking for an assistant right now and if I do I will make sure to pick someone who knows how to follow the dress code and the disciplinary code," I said in a low tone. Her cheeks reddened as she took a step back.

"Sir- uh doctor.." she stammered for words.

"Ms. Hathaway, I strongly suggest that you should take a hint and concentrate more in your studies or else I would be way too ecstatic to report that you would be indeed dropping my class. If you would like to avoid that sort of a situation please do wear something more appropriate to class next week and don't try to flash at me and most definitely don't try to slip your number on my desk," I tilted my head to the right, pursing my lips and pulling the scrap of paper she had managed to slip under one of my books and handed it to her, much to her dismay.

Her eyes turned glassy as she grabbed her bag form the nearby bench and literally ran out of the classroom in her red stilettos.

Taking in a sigh, I pulled my briefcase off the table and wandered off to my office.

En route to my office, something caught my eye. A familiar ombré haired brunette stood facing the notice board in the mid of the hallway.

No it couldn't be.

I could hear my heart thumping against my rib cage. My palms grew sweaty as I gripped the handle of my brief tighter.

She was donning a pair of skinny black jeans and a olive green shirt that fell loosely around her frame. She looked about five eight.

The exact height of a certain someone and I found myself walking in her direction.

Her feet were encased in a pair of white doc martens.

The sound of my shoes hitting the stone flooring reechoed in my ears.

Her back was to me.

Her hair fell loose around her face, blocking my line of viewing. I halted right behind her. As if alerted by an invader's presence, she turned back.

Instead of the very familiar blue green eyes I was expecting, another pair of deep brown eyes met mine.

The girl stumbled back against the notice board as the breath I was holding in escaped me.

"Can I help you, sir?" The stranger in front of me asked.

I shook my head back pathetically. I told her that I thought that she was someone else I knew. She blushed before nodding understandingly. With a curt nod I headed to my office, avoiding further distractions.

Sinking down on my chair, I put my head in my hands.

Good lord.

Eight years. More than eight years.

Goddamn it. I was almost twenty seven now.

And yet when I see a familiar ombré head or sense a vanilla lemon scent or hear a known voice, my palms go clammy and my heartbeat races in my ears.

Almost nine years since I last saw her.

I heard recently from Mikayla aka Mikki that the said person was now running her own construction alias designing firm.

I silently wonder whether she still likes those warm donuts rolled in icing sugar. Whether she still does not take any cream in her coffee. Whether she still scrunches her forehead when she gets pissed. Whether she still eats sandwiches with pickle.

Whether she still loves me.

Whether she still remembers me, at the lest.

Who the heck am I kidding? She is not the type of person who forgets. She is not the type of person who is never forgotten too.

It takes a certain impact to still have fresh memories of the person whom you saw eight years back. But here I am, wondering on how she likes her coffee.

I would be lying if I said that I had not looked at another woman after her in my life. That's literal batshit. It took me about three years to finish my accelerated undergraduate degree in medicine, during which I avoided the opposite s*x at all costs.

After graduation, med school was with on and off fun. Neither I maintained abstinence nor I played around.

A couple of casual flings. Well, more than a couple. Tried a relationship which was utterly ridiculous because I knew my heart belonged to another girl, who never gave it back to me.

Never got attached emotionally with anyone. Just had some fun physically, you could call it and ended things. It sounds like I am a douche bag. Well, maybe I am, but I seriously did not see the point of being in a relationship that was of no value to me.

My phone pinged a text.

"Drinks. Tonight?"

It was from Kai.

"Have to grade some papers."

"Boring ass." Followed by a couple of eye rolling emojis.

"It's a f*****g Friday night, dumpster."

"Fine, fine." I texted back with an annoyed emoji.

"I know you love me. Btw, tab is on you, bae" he texted back with a couple of kissing emoticons.

Shaking my head at my phone, I slipped it into my jacket pocket after I shrugged it on.

I headed to the parking lot, while a few students in the hallway acknowledged me. Getting into my Range Rover, I powered it up.

Pulling into the parking lot of a retail store, I halted the car and got out of it. My jacket is in the backseat of it.

I took a sharp turn and leant on the sidewall of it. The sharp click of my lighter lit the cigarette dangling on my lips.

The hard push of nicotine and carbon monoxide revved up my adrenaline rush.

My mind fell rapidly at ease as I focused on the swirl of smoke rising.

My eyes fell on my Rolex, which showed me that it was almost six in the evening.

Mom would be in her office focusing on her upcoming fashion show. Eric in his college dorm or at soccer practice or at some party with loads of booze. Emmy, of course, would be in her room preferably doing her schoolwork or texting that douche bag boyfriend of hers.

A vintage car skidded to its halt nearby to me and a guy got out of it, running over to open the door for his girl. Both of them in their early twenties.

She groaned. "Jake, you know it's fine, I can open my own door. We have been dating for more than two solid years now."

"I'd always want to get it for you, baby," he replied, swooping down for a kiss.

"Anyways, could we get some frozen yogurts?" She said, giggling.

"I thought you were on your diet," he gave her a wryly amused expression as he locked the car.

"A lil dairy won't go wrong," she smiled sheepishly.

"Whatever you wish, babes. The usual brownie chunk and dark chocolate raspberry, right?" He laughed, slinging his hand over her shoulder as she nodded excitedly.

"Flavor?" I raised my eyebrows twice questioningly. "Brownie chunk, or if it is not there, then dark chocolate raspberry."

Does she still like that brownie chunk frozen yogurt? I wondered idly and let the cigarette drop to my feet, reflexively stepping upon and crushing it. Running a hand through my hair, I pushed myself off the wall and headed inside the store. As the store was in my neighborhood, I knew the ground like the back of my hand. Pushing the cart aside, i picked out some groceries for the upcoming week.

Placing the groceries on the kitchen counter, i crouched down to pick the thick white envelope left on my doorstrep. The paper looked too expensive to be just a bill. Unloading the groceries, i put those away before freshening up myself with a leftover slice of pizza. The evening was silent as the rush of waves chasing each other to hit the sand was clearly audible. Noting that i had time to kill, i pulled out some assignments i had to grade that weekend. Thumbing through a couple of papers, my attention snapped to the new mail sitting on the couch.

The lazy calligraphy marked the words 'Barbara' and 'Dwayne'. A wedding invite?

Barbie was getting married. The date was dangerously close to the high school reunion. Birchmont High recently emailed all the past pupils in our grade. The reunion Kai had been meticulously bothering me to accompany him. Although my high school experience was not exactly terrible, it ended on a sour note, which i did not want to revoke.

My phone lit up with an incoming message. A text from my mom.

'Call me when you are free. Kai told me about the reunion.'

Fucking asshole.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I put my phone aside for a later reply. Running a hand through my hair, I got up to pick up my keys and leave. After a short drive to our usual bar, I caught sight of Kai's convertible in the parking lot.

"Where's Steven?" I slid into the barstool beside him. "Hello to you too, mate," Kai grinned, slapping my back.

"He is getting off late tonight. He will join us probably," Kai added, a doe eyed look passing over his eyes as he thought of his husband.

"You talked to my mom?" I asked, beckoning the bartender closer.

He shot me a nervous look as he turned to his drink, letting out a yelp as I punched his bicep lightly. Ever the drama king.