Page 45 of One-Time Shot

I chuckled and shared a few college exploits of my own.

We stayed like that for a long while as shadows lengthened in the room and late afternoon sun gave way to twilight. Neither of us mentioned hockey, his thesis, or the future. We didn’t even talk about sex or try to start round two. We just…hung out, naked in bed on a random Wednesday, sharing snippets of ourselves.

Maybe this was going to sound a little sappy, but it was one of the best days I’d had all year.

CHAPTER15

MALCOLM

“I’mpleased with the scope of your thesis so far. The kinematic equations you’ve added to the acceleration portion are dynamic and progressive. With your permission, I’d like to forward an excerpt to the review committee. I don’t want to unduly raise hope, but I think they’ll want to include this piece in the textbook.”

My mouth fell open and stayed there for a beat. “Really?”

“Really.”

Professor Finkwell’s smile was laced with indulgent amusement as he leaned back in his leather office chair, elbows resting and fingers steepled in a thoughtful pose that gave him the air of a quintessential collegiate professor. Or Santa Claus.

He was a short, balding man in his midsixties with a paunch belly who favored tweed jackets with leather patches and wrinkled khakis. His cheeks were always rosy and his glasses always slipped to the end of his nose. If I didn’t know any better, I might have been convinced he was a jovial academic who went out of his way to lend guidance to the younger generation. As Jett would probably say, that was bullshit.

Every academic worth his salt knew the inner workings of a university career involved a fair share of politics. You needed allies and mentors. Not that you couldn’t succeed without proper backing, but having friends in high places certainly helped. Finkwell was at the top of the chain at Smithton. He was a published, well-respected professor who’d dedicated over forty-five years to education.

If Finkwell thought any portion of my first draft was worthy to send off for a preliminary glance, I was in a better position than I’d hoped. This was thrilling news…amazing, overwhelming, intriguing.

“That’s…great.” Oh, dear. Jett was rubbing off on me. I shifted nervously on the office chair facing his desk and tried again. “Just…great.”

The professor chuckled lightly. “Indeed. It’s been a while since I’ve inquired into your postgraduation plans. I assume your plan is to teach.”

“Yes, and do research, and…follow in your footsteps as best I can,” I blurted.

Finkwell raised his bushy brows. “I’m flattered. Have you thought about where you’d like to apply?”

I could tell by his tone that was a leading query.

“No,” I replied. “I’m open to suggestions.”

He listed a few options. Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell seemed a tad ambitious, and the colleges in California, Florida, and Texas seemed too far. “There’s always St. Clement’s. It’s a fine private institution located near Buffalo—a sister school to Smithton as you probably know. I think you’d fit in well there and…I have it on good authority that they’ll have an opening in the physics department next year.”

St. Clement’s? Oh, my. Stay calm, Malcolm. No hyperventilating.

“That’s…wow. I know it well. That would be an incredible opportunity,” I said.

Finkwell inclined his head. “I happen to know the department chair. If you’re interested in setting up a preliminary meeting sometime, I can help with that.”

“Thank you, Professor!” I shot to my feet in a flash, reaching across his desk to clasp his hands ardently. “Thank you very much.”

I practically skipped out of his office and across campus, my brain buzzing with ideas of grandeur. I’d planned out a curriculum and decorated an imaginary office as I swung open the door to the rink. It wasn’t until I was face-to-face with the bored-looking student manning the reception desk that I realized I’d forgotten the tracking device.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh…” I fiddled with my glasses and cleared my throat. “I have a hockey experiment and a hockey person is um…expecting me.”

She shrugged imperceptibly. “Go for it.”

I spotted the lone figure on the ice, skating loops around the perimeter. I waved my arms in greeting, grinning as Jett came to a dramatic stop in front of me.

“You’re late, Maloney.”

“I know. Sorry. I met with Professor Finkwell and I…” I caught my breath and reveled in the warmth of his sunny smile. “It’s good to see you.”