The Professor I Shouldn't Want

The Girl Behind the Screen

POV: Henry

I couldn't keep my eyes off my phone. No matter how much I forced them back to my laptop screen, they kept drifting back to the device like a magnet. Damn it, Henry, focus! I still had a mountain of police reports to review. My phone buzzed, and my eyes snapped to it again. Just a bank notification. I let out an annoyed sigh.

I was obsessed. We’d only been talking for two weeks, and I couldn't think about anything else. Somehow, the highlight of my day had become waiting for a text from her. I was acting like a damn teenager. The worst part was that I didn’t even do this stuff when I was an actual teenager. I don’t remember ever liking someone this much back then; I had more important things to worry about...

And now, here I am at thirty-two, acting like a fifteen-year-old kid. I couldn't explain what was happening. There was nothing inappropriate about our conversations, not yet, anyway, nothing that justified this pull I was feeling. We talked about our days, the good, the bad, the funny, and yet it was addictive.

From day one, I felt something different, an inexplicable spark, a drive to get to know her that only intensified over time. Now, I had it bad; her messages literally dictated my mood. How could a woman I’d never even met in person have this much power over me?

The only thing I knew for sure, the only clear thought in my head, was that I didn't want to stop talking to her. In fact, I wanted a lot more than that. But right at that moment, I just wanted her to reply to the damn text I’d sent, because otherwise, I wasn't going to get a single thing done in this office. My phone buzzed again. It was her. A smile tugged at my lips. Damn it. I couldn't even control myself anymore.

"So? How’s the review coming along?"

Of course, Dave had to walk into my office right then.

"Not done yet.", I replied, forcing my eyes back to the laptop screen with a heavy dose of effort.

"You seem restless. Something wrong with the file?"

"No, I just want to finish up and head home."

"You? Wanting to go home?", he laughed. "That’s a first. I bet this has something to do with that i********: girl, doesn't it?", he leaned in with a smirk. "What’s up? Is she waiting for you there or something?"

I wish, I wanted to say, but instead I just smirked, and that was enough for Dave. He started laughing so loud I had to tell him to shut the hell up.

"Don’t you have anything to do?"

"I’m doing it.", he replied, trying to contain his excitement. "I’m witnessing a miracle. Henry Anderson is finally interested in someone!"

"It’s not the first time."

"Okay, fine, the first time since I've known you."

"It’s no big deal. I haven't even seen her in person yet."

"So what are you waiting for?"

For her to reply. There was this traditional Italian place I really liked, one of my favorites. I had asked her if she knew it or had ever been there. That was going to be my lead-in to ask her out. I didn't want to be too blunt; my strategy was to ask about the restaurant, see what she thought of it, and then ask her out. But of course, Dave had to show up right when she finally messaged back.

"I was thinking about having dinner with her on Saturday."

"Tomorrow?", he asked, and I nodded. "Have you asked her yet?", I shook my head. "Then ask her already!", I gave him an impatient look. "What? You're not waiting for me to leave, are you?"

"If you wouldn't mind.", I said sarcastically. He chuckled.

"Alright, alright! I’ll leave you to it.", he winked and headed out.

The second the door closed, I grabbed my phone.

Anne: [I’ve heard of it]

Anne: [But I’ve never been]

Anne: [I hear it’s a really beautiful, cozy spot]

Anne: [And that the food is amazing]

Henry: [That’s definitely true]

Henry: [In my opinion, it’s some of the best Italian food in the city]

Okay, she hadn’t been there, but she liked the sound of it. This was it.

Henry: [Would you like to go this Saturday?]

Nothing. She was taking a while to reply. Damn it, was I too forward? Dave always said I had that problem, but I didn't think that was the case here. I didn't ask out of the blue; I gave it some context, at least a little. Too soon, maybe? I didn't think so. We’d been talking for two weeks, basically every day. I’d already gotten used to falling asleep and waking up to her texts. I needed to see the woman behind the screen.

And it didn't make sense to stay strictly online if we lived in the same city, unless there was some kind of catch. That’s when I started wondering if this was all too good to be true. The girl was perfect for me: she was smart, funny, independent, came from a small town just like I did, and had worked her ass off to make something of herself. And, based on the one photo I'd seen, she was gorgeous.

No. There had to be a catch. I wasn't usually this lucky. I tried to replay our conversations from the beginning, looking for anything weird, anything that might be a red flag. And then, she replied.

Anne: [Yes, I’d love to]

Anne: [What time should we meet there?]

Reading those two messages was all it took for every single doubt to vanish.

Henry: [8:00 PM?]

Anne: [Perfect!]

Henry: [Okay, see you then]

Anne: [😊]

I locked my phone and leaned back in my chair, unable to hide my satisfied grin. I was finally going to meet the girl behind the screen.