At Cambridge

A lot of things happened while I was at Cambridge. There were way too many thoughts and feelings and events and to simply note down, so I guess I'll tell the whole story. That's the only way it's going to make sense.


4. Four

I go to one of the libraries that afternoon and I stay there for hours. It's so huge, there are so many books it's unbelievable. Plus, I just like the peace and quiet of it. I'm not a huge fan of staying in my dorm room because of my roommate (who I've discovered is called Lucy which doesn't seem to suit her) hating me. I just sit in the library in one of the arm chairs (that's so Cambridge I found it a little hard to believe) reading The Great Gatsby. I begin the last chapter just as it's starting to get dark and just as people are starting to drift back to their dorm rooms and just as Mr Feyson walks in. He raises an eyebrow at my almost finished book. 

"You're a bit far ahead aren't you?" he asks. 

I just shrug and he walks off into the library and I carry on reading. He returns a little while later just as I'm about to start crying about the book and he sits on the arm chair right next to mine. I stare at him. 

"Could I be left alone, please?" I ask. 

"Well, no." he narrows his eyes a little. I can see this little light inside them. And then I try to pretend I never thought something like that. "See, I sit here and read every single day."

"But you're putting me off reading the book that we have to read for the course you're teaching." I narrow my eyes back at him.

"Oh I wouldn't want to put you off reading. After all, an unread book is a great injustice and all that." 

"Okay, first of all, quit mocking me." I say. "And secondly, isn't a little bit unprofessional to be flirting with me?" 

He raises his eyebrows. "First of all, I can flirt with whoever I like, dating students technically isn't against the law. Secondly, I'm not flirting with you either way."

"Okay." I say, standing up. "Well. I'll see you on Wednesday, I guess."

"Actually, you'll see me tomorrow." he says. 

I frown. "What?"

"You're taking History, right? Well I teach History too."

I sigh. "How old are you?"

"Twenty three."

"You're a bit too accomplished." 

The corners of his mouth quirk upwards. "Thanks."

I roll my eyes and walk out. I feel a bit weird. I feel like I just had a conversation with a friend, not my teacher. And I know this isn't like high school, it's more than acceptable to be friendly with your professors here but something about it still feels a bit strange. But the weird thing is, I find it so strange because it feels weird to see somebody so young and somebody who I feel like could be my friend, as a teacher, not because I feel like my teacher is becoming my friend. If that makes any sense at all.

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