Annabelle thought he looked like a wolf when she first saw him.
He was standing at the front of the small classroom with a book of poetry in his hand, cover bent at an atrocious angle in his grip. He was all sharp eyes and bearded jaw, the salt-and-pepper color of his thick hair the only real aging factor in his appearance. His teeth were very white, and they flashed every time he spoke in his growling drawl.
David Masterson dressed like a professor, with a plaid button-down under his tweed, but he paced the room like a general. He would cry, shout and charge during his lectures, his books banging against whatever lectern or table got in his way. His tongue was as sharp as his wit, alternately fawning over and eviscerating the works of poetry they read.
She'd had boyfriends, she'd dated and felt the rush of genuine affection, but this was different. The more she watched him, the more his personality excited her. Annabelle had always been an active student, but she found herself frozen in silent, rapt attention each time he entered the room. She was no coward, though, so she took to visiting him during office hours instead.
Professor Masterson's office was in the back of the big limestone building that housed the liberal arts faculty. Like the others it was both tall and tiny, with stone and plaster walls that stretched to the 10-foot ceiling and dwarfed the workspace within. The tall window was perpetually dirty, dusted with a grime that was the same color as the limestone walls.
He was a good teacher on top of everything else, always willing to explain concepts again. He repeated himself a lot, but she never minded.
"...and that, THAT, Anna, is why we know that Fulton was a secret revolutionary. Right?"
"Right." She answered from her seat, even though she knew it was a rhetorical question.
Annabelle was in her usual chair. David had been seated at his desk when she came in, but his academic fervor had driven him to his feet. Now that his point was across he was settling, standing in front of her to lean on his desk.
"You understand?"
"Yes, thank you so much!"
She shot to her feet, hearing a dismissal, and was surprised to find he'd stepped closer to her. His sudden presence in her personal bubble almost took her breath away. He smelled of tobacco and chalk.
"Thank you, Annabelle."
"Oh?"
His head was tilted down to meet her eyes, his smile warm.
"You're a delight to work with. You're very bright, and I wouldn't be surprised to see you go far in academia. Of course, I always enjoy teaching graduate students. You're all so... grown-up. You have a level of maturity that undergrads don't." He wasn't speaking in his usual sharp tone. This one was softer, more of a purr than a growl.
Annabelle found her mouth had gone quite dry.
"Oh, well, we all had to be undergrads sometime." She whispered, hoarse.
He laughed, the sound bright as full. His head rocked back, his weight shifting onto his heels.
"You're right, of course. Still, you are something else, Annabelle."
"Thank you, sir," she answered with a bright smile.
It wasn't until she'd exited his office that a bigger, goofier grin made its way onto her face.
***
During the first year of her Master's degree, Annabelle was more than happy to watch David. She loved to watch him lecture because she felt this was when he was at his most magnificent, leading her to a perfect attendance record in his course. She kept going to his office hours, but these visits rarely stayed on any academic topic. She was pleased to find that whatever subject she got him on, David's enthusiasm never wavered.
"... you know, in those days' girls used to bleach their skin to be rid of freckles. It's still popular in many countries where pale skin is seen as a sign of beauty. India, for example, South Africa... hard to imagine now, of course-"
"Oh, I don't know." Annabelle sighed, eyes climbing the many racks of weathered tomes that decorated his office. "I might have considered at some point."
"Really?"
David's mouth dropped open, his face so incredulous that she laughed at him.
"Well, sure. I hated my freckles when I was growing up, a lot of girls do. I used to cake on my makeup to hide them."
David moved across the room quickly, crossing the small space in a single long stride. He was very close to her, his eyes examining her face with the same furious curiosity with which he read. His hands were raised, two fingers from each touching her jaw with unexpected gentleness. She held still.
After a moment he drew back with an explosive scoff.
"Ridiculous! You have lovely freckles."
Annabelle's face flushed at the compliment. His touch left her skin tingling, as the breath he'd caught inside her made its way out of her with a woosh.
"Thank you. I mean, tell that to high-school aged me!"
He laughed, bouncing back to the other side of his desk.
"Even if I could go back and tell her what an intelligent beauty she'll become, I'm afraid she wouldn't believe me."
Annabelle flushed brighter, and her voice softened.
