The moment the glaring sunset hit my light-sensitive corneas, I decided to dine in at the hotel restaurant, as I’m not that ready to face the world. I’m also quite certain I still might be a touch intoxicated—but two bottles of scotch over a weekend will do that.
Looking over the menu, I decide to order a feast and make up for lost time because I’m ravenous. After placing my order, I begin flicking through my iPad and decide to take some notes on the paper I’m currently writing. I finally have the time to focus on my research, and I plan on utilizing every second, seeing as I will be amongst fellow comrades who will appreciate my findings.
Lost in the current edition of the Medical Journal, I fail to notice someone standing beside me until I hear a throat being cleared. Looking up, I see the blue-eyed waitress who took my order earlier standing by my table.
“Can I get you another beer?” she asks, looking at my full Budweiser.
“I’m okay for the moment,” I reply, and notice her looking down at my iPad.
“Are you here for the doctor thingie?” she gushes, and points above her head, indicating the ballroom where the event will be held.
“Yes, I am.”
“That’s really cool,” she says, brushing a blonde lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you a doctor?”
“Psychiatrist,” I reply, slipping off my glasses and reaching for my beer.
“Ooh, so you can read people’s minds or something?” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s being serious or not, so I chuckle, not wanting to offend her.
“It’s one of my many talents.”
“I can believe that,” she says, her voice dropping low as she does a quick sweep down my body. “What other talents do you have, Doctor?”
God, this really is too easy. You’d think I’d be put off women, considering everything that has happened. But I’m not.
Curling my finger and beckoning her to come closer, she complies and stoops low, cupping her ear when I indicate it’s a secret.
“It’s probably better if I show you,” I say, my voice filled with empty promise.
She giggles and pulls back slightly, but she’s still close enough that I can see her pupils dilate in desire. “Maybe you could show me after my shift, then? I get off at ten.”
“Oh, you will be getting off at ten, sweetheart,” I say with a confident nod. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Her cheeks instantly flush and her mouth parts, and yes, I feel like a dirty old man, seeing as she looks to be no older than twenty-one, but hey, when in Rome—or Boston. She reaches into her apron pocket, pulls out a notepad, and quickly writes something down.
“Here, handsome.” She slips me her number across the tabletop. “Make sure you call. I’ll be waiting.”
I reach for it, but she stops me by placing her palm over mine. “Oh, and by the way,” she says, daringly. “You’ll be getting off at 10:05.” She gives me a coy wink before walking away, leaving me with a clear view of her tight behind.
Watching until she disappears from sight, I fold up her number and place it in my pocket. I really should steer clear of women, seeing as five minutes ago I had the intention to dedicate all my free time to research. But all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
I cringe the moment the phrase enters my mind, as it reminds me of Madison. But a lot of things remind me of her. This past month has been tough, and I’m man enough to admit that I do think about her from time to time. I wonder how she is, what she’s doing, who’s she doing, but more importantly, I wonder if she’s thinking about me half as much as I’m thinking about her.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I tell myself this is the last time I will allow my thoughts to stray to her, because the lack of contact is a sure sign she’s forgotten about me—just as I should do with her.
“Dixon?” a voice asks, and I look up to see the kind, weathered face of my old college professor, Dr. Wellington.
“Dr. Wellington?” I say, unable to keep the surprise from my voice. “Whatever are you doing here?” I ask, standing up and shaking his hand.
“Oh, I’m the guest speaker for the awards ceremony, which is nonsense. I can’t imagine what they think an old coot like me would have to say that would be of interest to you young folk,” he modestly replies, and I laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you taught me everything I know. Without you, I dare say, I would have given up in the first semester.”
Dr. Wellington chuckles, which gets caught in his throat, and he coughs while patting his chest. “Well thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment, seeing as I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself, Dr. Mathews.”
“Only thanks to you. Please, won’t you sit?” I say, gesturing to the booth.
“I better not. I’m here with someone.”
“Oh, you Casanova,” I say with a playful wink.
Dr. Wellington chuckles once again, and shakes his head, his thinning gray hair moving with the movement. “It’s not like that at all. I’m old enough to be her grandfather. She’s a student of mine.”
“I didn’t realize you were still teaching,” I say, and he nods.
“Yes, only part-time. Just basic psychology,” he replies. “This one student has shown great potential, and the facility asked I take her and another student with me, as they see the potential in both pupils. I think they just want me to show her off to all the bigwigs. You know how much Columbia likes to brag about their students when they become a big deal.”
I nod because he’s right. Colleges love to boast they schooled the next big thing, as it warrants them charging astronomical tuition fees.
“She actually reminds me of you in a way,” he says with a playful gleam in his eye.
“What? She’s a pain in the ass?” I counter, and Dr. Wellington grins.
“Yes, that too. Well, I best be off. Never leave a beautiful woman waiting.”
“So I’ve heard,” I reply, as he’s preaching to the choir. “It was lovely seeing you again, Dr. Wellington.”
“Please, it’s Max. Formalities are only for the classroom, and even then, they are totally unnecessary.”
I smirk, pleased his humility is still intact. “I look forward to hearing you speak at the ceremony.”
“Thank you, Dixon. If I’m boring you to tears, please feel free to throw a bread roll at me.”
“You never could, but yes, I promise.”
“Are you staying here for the week?”
“Yes, I am. I needed to get away from the big smoke,” I confess. “And I’m also working on a paper on the links between neurobiology and addiction, focusing on the nature versus nurture principle. I needed the downtime to get it finished.”
“Oh? How interesting. I would be intrigued to hear your findings,” Max says, the scientist in him coming through. “Would you be interested in catching up tomorrow morning? Around eight thirty for breakfast?”
“Sure, that sounds wonderful.”
I could really, really do with someone like Max’s opinion. Consulting with someone with his expertise and experience could really open up avenues I haven’t fully explored. The thought of possibly being a contender for next year’s ceremony doesn’t seem as farfetched as it once was.
“Splendid. I’ll ask Alex and Madison along also, if you don’t mind? I’m sure they’ll find your research fascinating.”
The moment her name passes his lips, I pray and plead that it’s another Madison and not my Madison, because if it is her, she no doubt saw me chatting up the waitress ten minutes ago.
“Is that okay?” he asks when I don’t speak.
“Yes, yes, of course, that’s fine,” I reply, subtly looking around the room.
“Brilliant. Well, tomorrow around eight thirty it is then,” he says, patting my shoulder. “Have a lovely evening.” He winks when my overly helpful waitress arrives with my food.