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She’s just a woman, Phillip. She puts her pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.
More importantly, she’s your student and is very, very off limits. You are a forty-five-year old man, not some lovesick teenager on a first date. Now get a hold of yourself and run this meeting like the professional you are.
“Enter.”
Watching her blog had prepared me for how stunning she looked, but it didn’t prepare me for the sheer wonder of seeing her face to face.
Honestly, I don’t think any medium—video or otherwise—would ever be able to capture the aura of grace hovering in the air around her.
I’m struck dumb by it, and the greeting I was going to give (that I absolutely had not rehearsed) dies on my tongue.
The debutantes I used to escort when I was a much younger man would have committed murder for even a fraction of the poise that she has.
As she glides across the room, the etiquette lessons I thought I'd forgotten force their way to the front of my brain.
I move to stand behind the chair on the student side of my desk, ready to pull it out for her once she gets close enough.
Surprise flickers briefly across her face when I pull the chair out, but if I’m not mistaken, there’s also a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes as she sinks smoothly into the chair.
I have a standard itinerary for the first meeting, and never once have I deviated from the script—at least not until now.
I thought I'd be able to recover once I'd settled back into my chair, but luck is not on my side today.
When I glance away, I can manage to think up a sentence or two, but the minute I look back at Avery, my mind goes blank and I get lost in the wonder of her.
I get caught up in trying to count the freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks.
I get distracted by the patina of light and dark blues in her eyes, the curve of her cupid's bow, and how her hair shimmers in the weak evening light from the window.
The sound of voices in the hallway snaps me back to reality.
I take a breath and open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
You need to say something, Phillip—anything will do at this point. You can’t just spend the whole meeting staring at her. It's creepy and is probably already making her uncomfortable.
I clear my throat and try again.
“Miss Ross, it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
That's what you went with? Really?
I’m about ready to kick myself. All I need now is a top hat and a monocle for my transformation into a stuffy aristocrat to be complete.
Wait, is she blushing?
My eyes drop to her cheeks, and sure enough, there’s a tinge of pink that hadn’t been there before.
“Avery, please.” She smiles. “We’re going to be working together for several weeks, Mr. Travis. There’s no need to call me Miss Ross every time you need to talk to me.”
“Then I’ll have to insist that you call me Phillip,” I say, mirroring her smile. “It’s only fair.”
“Phillip it is, then.”
I could get addicted to the sound of my name on her lips.
I shift awkwardly in my chair, suddenly very grateful that there’s a desk obscuring my lower half.
“Let's start this meeting off with an easy question. How are you doing today?”
