Seven

I stood before my small closet, inside me was a storm of anticipation and uncertainty swirling. This was the day – my first day of graduate school. I pulled on a crisp white blouse, a nod to the professional I hoped to become. My hands trembled slightly as I buttoned it up. This wasn’t just about earning a degree; it was about unlocking a future brimming with possibilities.

I imagined myself years from now, standing at a podium, sharing ground-breaking research. The weight of expectation was heavy, but so was the thrill of the unknown. With each item of clothing, I felt a layer of confidence building. I was ready to dive headfirst into this new chapter, to explore uncharted territories of knowledge, and to discover the scholar I was meant to be. Who I had dreamed of becoming these past months.

I grabbed an apple for breakfast, which I ate bent over the sink so as not to drip any juice on me. I had been late waking up, today, but things would slowly fall

into place.

As I was in the kitchen, Cassie stepped out of her room. She was still in her pyjamas, rubbing her eyes. She shuffled over to me, and wrapped me in a hug.

“All the best!” She said, squeezing me tightly. “Thanks, C.” I spoke. “See you in the evening?”

She nodded. Our schedules didn’t line up for most days, but I was sure we would still see each other between classes, on campus.

“I hope everything goes well, today,” I told her, “I’m really nervous.”

“I know it will, babe.”

Cassie gleamed at me. And I believed her. She had a crazy positive energy that made you trust her beyond comprehension.

I rode my bike to class. It was a nice day out, sparsely sunny, and considerably windy. My hair still flew even though they were in a ponytail. I was sure that by now, I looked like I hadn’t even brushed them.

The weight of my backpack felt like the world on my shoulders as I pedaled furiously towards campus. A mix of excitement and dread churned in my stomach. This was it.

I found a spot to park my bike, the metal frame biting into my palms as I hurried to lock it. A glance at my watch told me I was cutting it dangerously close. The restroom was my next stop, a hasty retreat to tame the unruly strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail.

No one else was on inside. It was early in the morning, so it made sense. The fluorescent lights cast an unflattering glow on my face, magnifying my nervousness. I looked like I had bags under my eyes, even though I had slept well.

I began to stroke through my hair with my fingers, pressing on the small baby hair around my forehead

The door being pushed open startled. A woman, maybe a year or two older, stood there, a mix of apprehension and curiosity in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah, just running late," I replied, grinning at her.

"Me too," she said, stepping inside. "I'm Mara."

We introduced ourselves and it turned out Mara was in the same program as me, a fact that filled me with a sense of relief. As we chatted about our undergraduate experiences and career goals, the time seemed to fly by. We were both nervous, but in the company of someone who understood, the fear seemed a little less daunting.

When we finally emerged from the restroom, the campus was bustling with activity. We fell into step together, our conversation flowing easily. Mara was intelligent and funny, with a quick wit that put me at ease. I learned that she had spent the previous year traveling through Asia, an experience that had ignited her passion for development economics. It also intimidated me a little. This was a great program. And there would be all these worldly people here. Smart people with loads of experience. I was smart, but I was probably going to be the least experienced person in the cohort.

As we approached the building where our first class was to be held, a wave of anticipation washed over me. The classroom was small. We took seats side-by-side on the large conference-style table. I sat a few chairs away from where the professor would be, enough to be noticed, but not enough to be too up in their face.

“I’m a little scared of meeting Dr. Ashwell.” Mara said to me, in a hushed tone. I turned to her. “Why?”

“His research is in environmental economics, which I want to focus on, so I really want to impress him.” I nodded in agreement. I wanted to focus on gender, so I had the same feelings for another teacher.

“And he’s really young, too. To have such a prolific academic profile.”

I guess that was why he was teaching here.

Other students had started to filter in. These would be my peers for the next two years. I looked around the room, saying hi to a few people. Everyone seemed really nice, and I breathed a sigh of relief at that.

We all heard footsteps approaching, and fell silent, watching the door steadily. In walked a man with a familiar face.

Declan?

I almost gasped. He had said he was in research. Did he mean grad school?

But as he walked past all of us to the head of the table, realisation dawned on me.

He looked at all the people seated there, his eyes scanning over the group. When he saw me, his eyes widened for a millisecond. The surprise on his face was barely even there, replaced in a moment with professional courtesy. But I noticed it.

He coughed lightly. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Dr. Declan Ashwell. I’ll be teaching you Introduction to Environmental Economics this semester.”

I had slept with my teacher.

Fuck me.