Break Your Heart

by Rhonda Helms

  As I walked away, I felt another gaze. Dr. Muramoto’s book was still in his hands, but his eyes, so enigmatic, were right on me. I couldn’t tell what he saw when he looked into my eyes—did he think I was just a party girl? Then he turned his attention back to his book, sipped his coffee in silence, the moment gone.

  Chapter 3

  When I exited my ordinary differential equations class on Tuesday morning, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I looked at the caller ID. “Hey, Mom. Good timing—I’m just leaving a class.”

  “Morning, sunshine,” she said in a soft, sleepy-sounding voice. “How’s school going so far?”

  I stepped to the side of the hallway, right in front of the classroom door. “It’s good. What, did you sleep in today? You sound groggy.”

  Mom was a morning person, normally up at five-thirty daily on the dot. When I’d lived at home, there were many mornings she’d push my tired ass out of bed with a not-so-gentle shove.

  There was a pause. “Oh, I woke up with a bad backache, so I took some pain meds. They make me a little fuzzy.”

  My heart rate picked up a bit. “You okay? When did the backache start? Have you talked to the doctor about it?” Mom hadn’t indicated any pain from her injury in a long time, so naturally I was alarmed. Hopefully this wouldn’t turn out to be something chronic for her.

  “No, no, it’s fine, I’m sure,” she said. “I probably just slept weird or something. But if it keeps up I’ll call the doc. Anyway, that wasn’t what I was calling about.” Her voice threaded with excitement. “Something awesome happened, and I wanted to ask you to come to dinner tomorrow so we could talk about it and celebrate. You free?”

  I quickly scanned my mental calendar. “Yeah, that should be fine. Can I bring anything with me?”

  “Just yourself. And anyone you might be dating . . .” She stalled off with a meaningful pause.

  I tried not to groan. It was no secret my mom wished I’d settle down a bit. Whenever I brought a guy over, she was always excited and enthusiastic, but I could tell it disappointed her that I hadn’t had a serious boyfriend in a couple of years. “I’m not dating anyone, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Just checking,” she said lightly. “Okay, I’ll let you go. Study hard.”

  “See ya Wednesday,” I said right before we hung up. Wonder what it was she wanted to tell me about? Surely there wasn’t a baby on the horizon or anything crazy like that. My mom and dad were great, loving parents, but they’d been happy with just one kid. Not to mention that both of them were devoted to long work hours, with little free time to spare. Probably something job related then.

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket and headed outside. The sun shone, so snow sparkled on the ground, on the trees. I tugged my scarf a little closer around my neck, since the light didn’t have much effect on the piercing cold.

  Still, at least the sun was out. In Cleveland, you learned to take whatever you could get. Winters were brutal.

  We were going to have a quiz in ordinary differential equations on Thursday, so I decided to go to the commons to study, while it was fresh in my mind. The class was a little more challenging than I’d expected, but I was still confident I’d do okay. I’d maintained a solid A and B average every semester. Surely I wouldn’t crap up everything during my last chunk of undergrad.

  The commons was in the middle of campus, a large glass-walled building that let in light and made the interior warm and welcoming. On the first floor were clusters of chairs and couches, designed to encourage students to relax, linger, study, talk.

  As I walked toward the center of the room, I saw a familiar person alone, near the group of chairs by the fireplace. Kelly, from my cryptography class. I changed direction and headed to her.

  “Mind if I sit here?” I asked her.

  She gave me a wide smile. “No, please! Have a seat.”

  The fire was warm and took away the slight cold sting in my fingertips and nose. “This is cozy,” I said, stripping off my coat and settling into the plush tan chair.

  She nodded. “I come here between classes a lot. It’s warmer than the dorms.”

  “I’ve heard that,” I said with a laugh. I had some friends who lived on campus. The rooms were nice and decent sized, but sometimes the heat went a bit wonky in the older dorms. “Whatcha studying?” I nodded at the open book in her lap.

  She held up the cover—a thick collection of short stories. “I put off English as long as I could,” she said with a grimace. “So I had to take 102 this year in order to graduate.”

  “Yup. Psychology of stress for me,” I said as I shook my head, chuckling. “I feel your pain.” I dug my notes for the previous class out of my bag and grabbed a pen. “Sorry, I won’t bug you while you’re studying.”

  “You’re not bugging me at all.” She sighed and gave a sad, shy smile. “I don’t really know many people on campus, so it’s kinda nice to have someone else to talk to.” With that, she turned her attention to her book. A courtesy so I could study, I was sure.

  But my heart ached for her loneliness. Eh, I could go over my notes later, right? “What are you going to do after you graduate?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me being nosy.”

  She looked up at me and dropped her pen in the seam of her text, closing it with a decisive thud. “I’m going to teach,” she said. “I’m a math ed major. After this semester, I do my student teaching in the fall. Shoulda done it this semester, but with the transfer, everything got thrown off a bit.”

  “What made you move here, of all places? Surely it wasn’t our majestic weather,” I said with a pointed look outside.

  She huffed a laugh. “Not quite.” Her eyes turned serious, and she ran a hand along the back of her neck. “Things went . . . a bit bad at my old campus. So I moved here for a fresh start. My aunt used to live in Cleveland and loved the area. This school has a great academic reputation. So here I am.”

  I was so curious and wanted to ask more, but I remembered how Casey would shut off when I’d push her to talk to me. Trust was important to establish before trying to pry into such personal matters. And the stiffness in her body language gave away that she was uncomfortable, didn’t want to reveal too much right now. So I gave her a warm smile and pushed back the questions I wanted to ask. “Well, we should try to hang out sometime then. Without books involved,” I added.

  Her responding grin was warm and appreciative. “Really? I’d like that.”

  “My roommate deejays at a dance club nearby—The Mask. It’s great. Or we can hit a party on campus or something. Lots to do around here.” Kelly seemed like a nice person; maybe a little nudge would help her expand her social circle.

  We made small talk for a few more minutes, about the weather, about our other classes, then slid into an easy silence as we worked. Students milled and talked around us, the fire crackled between us, but we studied for another hour on our notes and such.

  My back was getting cramped, so I stood and stretched. Gathered my stuff up and put it in my bag. I needed coffee and a bagel before my next class. After class I had a work shift—it was gonna be a long day. “I’m heading out,” I told Kelly. “But I’ll text you when I find out what’s going on. Maybe we can do something soon?”

  She nodded. “I’d like that. A lot. See ya tomorrow morning.”

  I left, and as I walked to the coffee shop, I tried not to think about the sheen of tears in her eyes. How hard it must be to feel that lonely, to wander around school and have few familiar faces. Whatever Kelly went through must have been pretty awful if it had made her pick up her whole life and relocate.

  As I shifted in my seat in cryptography on Wednesday morning, I realized my pulse had begun to flutter, and my pen was tapping on the corner of my paper without me realizing it. I was nervous. How crazy was that? Nervous and full of anticipation to see my prof again. Only a few class sessions in and the guy had somehow begun to worm his way under my skin. I looked forward to hearing the vivid excitement in his
voice as he spoke about the day’s topic. Watching how his hands waved in the air to punctuate his words. The way his gaze was so penetrating when he locked eyes with students. Like he was seriously interested in our opinion. Like he found us to be his equal.

  I’d never been drawn to a teacher like this before. Then again, I’d never had a teacher like him before.

  Dr. Muramoto walked in with a broad smile. “Morning, class. Glad to see I didn’t scare you away with Monday’s lesson.”

  There were a few chuckles. It had been an intense session, but he’d gone over the material thoroughly, asking questions to make sure we all understood.

  Kelly sighed and leaned closer to me. “I wish he taught all my classes.”

  I nodded. “He’s something else, isn’t he.” For some reason, I was hesitant to let anyone know how much I was attracted to him. It was goofy—why should I care if Kelly or Casey or anyone else knew I thought he was hot?

  But I knew why. Because it was more than just his looks. His brain was hot. His intensity was hot. And those things made me think about him far, far more than I should have. Which was so embarrassing. I was a cliché—girl with a huge crush on her teacher. Ridiculous.

  “Megan?” Dr. Muramoto said with a brow raised, which jarred me out of my thoughts.

  My heart pounded. Shit. What were we talking about? “Um, yes?”

  “Do you know the answer?”

  My brain scrabbled with desperation as I eyed the chalkboard, the room, trying to figure out what we were talking about.

  His brow quirked. “I was asking what the two types of symmetric key ciphers are. It was part of your reading from last class.”

  Shit. My brain was totally blank, caught off guard. I took a second to close my eyes, regather myself. “Stream ciphers and . . . block ciphers,” I finally said.

  He gave me a nod, and his gaze moved away from mine to slide over the faces of other students in the rows in front of me. Once he stopped looking at me, I found I was able to breathe again. “These two types of ciphers use one key to both encrypt and decrypt a message. As the text explained, that might seem handy, but the sender and receiver need a secure way to send that key.” He talked on, and my pulse finally dropped down from the danger zone.

  “Good save,” Kelly said to me. “I hate being called on.”

  I chuckled under my breath. “My brain just died, I guess.”

  The brown-haired guy in the seat in front of me turned around and said in a low voice, “Where did you find that, by the way? I don’t remember reading it in the chapter.”

  “Oh. Um, hold on.” I turned my attention to the text and flipped through the pages until I saw where I’d highlighted about symmetric key ciphers. “Top of this page.” I turned the open book around so he could see.

  His green eyes flashed a thanks. “Got it.” His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, and then he faced forward again.

  Hm. I looked at Kelly with a raised eyebrow, one she met back. She scrawled on the corner of her notebook, then showed me what she’d written.

  He likes you.

  That was totally the vibe I’d been getting too. I nodded with wide eyes at her, then checked him out. I’d seen him around in the building, of course, because the guy was my usual type—athletic build, attractive. And he was in an upper-level math course, so he must be pretty intelligent too.

  Maybe the thing to snap me out of this lame-o teacher crush was to foster interest in another guy. One who was my age. One who wouldn’t get in trouble if we ever were to date.

  Not that Dr. Muramoto was ever going to date me anyway, of course.

  I took notes during the lecture, making sure to pay attention so I wouldn’t get caught unaware again, but he didn’t call on me. When we were dismissed, the guy in front of me stood and faced me again.

  “Thanks again for showing me where that was,” he said. His eyes twinkled.

  “It really wasn’t a big deal,” I protested.

  I heard Kelly smother a laugh beside me. I shot her a mock glare, and she shrugged and gathered her stuff.

  “Um. I’m Dallas,” he offered to me.

  “I’m Megan. Hi.” I nodded my head at him in a greeting.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll see you next Monday.” He scratched the back of his head, a light flush crawling up his cheeks as he got his stuff together and practically ran out the door.

  “That was so cute,” Kelly said as she burst into giggles. “You had him crazy nervous.”

  “I just have that effect on men. Or maybe he was nervous because of you,” I teased her back.

  She rolled her eyes. “That guy didn’t notice anyone else in this room. But that’s fine. I don’t want a math major anyway. We’re all way too stuffy and practical for my tastes.”

  I donned my coat and followed Kelly toward the door, when Dr. Muramoto waved me over. “I’ll catch you later,” I told her, then tried to ignore the stutter in my heart rate as I reached his desk.

  He handed me a stack of paper—my thesis. “I have to say, Megan, I found this a really good and engaging read. Your ideas on how to stimulate math interest in gamer kids were intriguing. I offered some commentary in the margins, but I think you’re on the right track.”

  The warmth and approval in his voice made me flush. I glanced at the paper and saw block script notes in the margins. I was dying to read what he’d written. “Thank you,” I told him. “I appreciate your squeezing me in. I know you’ve been busy.”

  His eyes flashed with something, and he paused in his gathering of papers. “It wasn’t a problem at all,” he said. “Drop me an email if you have questions about my feedback. My address is on the syllabus.”

  I left and headed to a student lounge area in the corner of the building. Flipped through each page and read his margin notes. His feedback was in the form of probing questions, challenges to push me harder. He offered thoughts on stuff I hadn’t considered, stuff Dr. Reynaldo hadn’t brought up either.

  I stared blankly at the paper as my mind wandered to thinking about Dr. Muramoto. He was a smart, savvy man. Who was he outside of school? Was he married? I hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, but that wasn’t always an indicator of solo status. Besides, he could have a girlfriend or fiancée. What kinds of things did he do in his spare time? And how did he get to this level of professorhood at such a young age?

  Something about him intrigued me, against my better judgment. Something in me wanted to know more. And in that moment, I had a sudden, real discomfort that distracting myself with other guys wouldn’t satisfy that itch right below my skin. The itch to understand who my professor was and what made him tick.

  Chapter 4

  The waves of Lake Erie slapped the shores of our beach as I stared at the waterfront from my parents’ patio. There was nothing quite like seeing a sunset on the water, even in the wintertime. The sky, which had cleared up this afternoon, was awash in brilliant ribbons of pinks and purples. To my right, the sun dipped in the western horizon. To my left, darkness edged in with a blanket of star-pierced navy blue.

  I sat in silence, sipping a glass of my mom’s favorite white wine and relaxing. No matter how stressed I’d gotten as a kid, my refuge had been the water. I kinda missed being so close to it, having it right there whenever I needed it. I missed falling asleep with my window open, listening to the waves lap at the sand.

  Mom and Dad were inside, making dinner. I’d asked if I could help, but they’d shooed me away, telling me to relax. So I’d wrapped up in a thick blanket—the way I had countless times growing up—and perched on a patio chair.

  My cheeks were cold, but it was well worth the sight.

  After a few more minutes, I heard my mom’s call for dinner. I came inside and helped set plates. She’d made chicken with asparagus, mashed potatoes and parsnips. My mouth was already watering—I missed home-cooked food.

  “Casey and I don’t eat like this,” I said with a mournful sigh as I settled into my seat.

  Dad laughe
d. “Guess you guys should come over more often,” he teased.

  “I would if I weren’t so busy acing my classes,” I lobbed back with a wink. My parents knew my schedule was crazy, but I also knew that they missed me. We got together when we could.

  Mom moved toward the dining room table, then paused, turned around and left the room. A moment later, she returned with a smile. As she settled into her chair, she said, “Okay, the big news.” She reached over and squeezed Dad’s hand. “Your father and I got a lucrative contract to renovate the dorms on your campus.”

  I blinked, my jaw dropping open. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Congrats to you guys! When did all of this go down? How did it happen?”

  “I have a contact at Smythe-Davis in the maintenance department. When the bid opened up due to some immediate issues that happened in one of the dorms, he told me about it. The project manager chose our company to handle the restoration.” He glanced at Mom and smiled. “This is going to be a big opportunity for us. We’ve never had a project of this size and scope before. It will push us into the big leagues.”

  I speared a stalk of asparagus and chewed. I was glad for my parents, but I had to admit it’d be a little strange having them on campus. The independence I’d experienced the last three and a half years was probably going to be impacted by this. I shoved that uncomfortable thought aside. “Is business okay otherwise?”

  Mom’s smile stiffened just a fraction of a second before she said, “It’s good. Just a little . . . slow. Winter months are always like that though. Nothing to worry about.” She waved her hand at me to keep eating.

  My parents hadn’t struggled with money in quite a while. They’d bought this house when I was in elementary school, and it had seemed like their business was steady. Still, I was sure it was a relief to have a big project lined up. I felt a little bad for my earlier discomfort. It wasn’t like they were going to be up my ass, checking on me every five minutes to make sure I was doing homework or whatever. My parents were supportive and pushed me hard to do my best, but they’d never been controlling. Surely they’d respect my space, right?