Professor F

Chapter 72

August stepped out of Pierre's car while his younger cousin who was with him at the airport, Philip runs

to the front porch and went inside.

Pierre then walked with her after grabbing her luggage. "Come inside. It's freezing."

She hesitated and saw the front door opening, an old woman wearing a sweater, pants and boots

waved at them, smiling. "Happy Christmas! Come inside and have something to eat."

Pierre took her hand in his and pulled her. "I'm carrying you if you won't start walking."

She blushed. "Y—Yes. I will. N—Now."

As soon as she stepped inside, she saw kids running around and people staying in the couch by the

fireplace. Pierre's family has a three story house and a wide lawn but still the place looked busy and

chaotic—in a good way.

"We have a pretty big group." Pierre explained and he started to introduce her to his family and

relatives. "My friend."

And she knew, as expected, they all gave Pierre a meaningful look. "She's a good friend. My tutor at

Pearsons!"

"Everyone starts from there." His other cousin with blonde curly hair said but she can't remembered his

name. Was it Paolo? Pio?

They couldn't react to their remarks since Pierre's mother invited them to the dining area and started

serving them food. They never asked why she's staying with them and even had the guest room ready

for her.

It was quarter to two in the morning when the invited relatives left and she insisted to help in cleaning

up. Pierre's parents then went ahead while Pierre stayed behind and made two cups of coffee.

"Keep warm by the fire place." Preston, Pierre's father said.

They both nodded and watched them get inside. She looked at her cup of coffee and sighed, sitting on

the couch. "I'm sorry for crashing. You have a wonderful family."

He spreads his legs on the floor and leaned his back on the chair next to hers after putting his cup on

the table. "Wrong. I invited you."

She smiled sadly. "I'm glad you did."

There was silence. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked, cautiously.

She looked at the burning firewood. "It's over." Pierre was quiet as he looked at her, giving his time and

attention. She continued, "I think it's really meant to happen. It's wrong right from the beginning. I was

just—"

Who am I kidding? She knows she's only saying this, using that as an excuse to make herself feel

better. That it's wrong to be with Flynn.

He sips from his cup of coffee. "Wrong. It's only wrong because something bad happened. It was right

when everything was according to what you wanted."

She looked at him. He's right. He said all the right words to describe it. "R—Right."

"But it doesn't make you anything less. You're still the same smart girl I met months ago, August."

Her eyes started to shake, tears warning to fall. She looked down to hide them. Hearing his words, she

remembered how it all started with Flynn, like a blurry flashback inside her head.

She felt the tears falling as she sniffed, trying her best to suppress her sobs. "I—I'm—" She couldn't

speak straight and was surprised when Pierre holds her cup.

"Stop crying. I'm not going to comfort you."

"W—What?" She looked up and met his gaze. His face too hard to read because of the shadow

created by the darkness and the only light is from the Christmas lights up on the tree and the burning

wood.

His lips made a thin line as he takes the cup from her hands and placed it on the table. "But if you think

he's worth your tears and your pain, then I'm here to somehow make it go away." He moves closer and

sits in front of her.

She cried her heart out—sobbing and sniffing behind him. She doesn't know when her tears would run

dry.

Maybe forever.

She doesn't know if she'd be able to celebrate Christmas like she used to.

But she's glad to have someone like Pierre.

••••••

August spent the next days until her flight back to Seattle with Pierre's family.

She fell asleep crying on the couch and she woke up in the guest room later that day. Pierre brought

her to some of his favorite places in England and would enjoy food as they walk around.

He would snap photos of her, most of then are shots before she would notice him taking her photo and

she'd struggle to snatch his camera.

"Delete them." She pouted.

"No." He grinned as he looked at the photos he took while they're walking inside a museum. "These are

rare moments with you. I wanna capture it!"

She blushed but he was so cool and comfortable about what he said. He's no longer the blushing

Pierre. "I'll delete them."

"You can try. They're already on my cloud." He winked.

The following day was spent with his cousins at a local bar. They were fun, playing pool and they loved

the old school karaoke available.

And the day before her flight back, Pierre brought her to an old studio, he said it's where he took cello

lessons when he was a kid. The place was still maintained but only few students were there.

"Hey, Pierre!" An old man wearing glasses greeted him as they reached the lobby. "Are you going to

play?"

"Hey, Oscar! Uh—maybe. I can still use the studio, right?" Pierre smiled.

"Of course, lad! As long as you like." The old man answered.

Pierre faced her. "That's the owner of the studio. He's a really cool guy."

She smiled and walked inside the studio with him. Pierre then started to draw the dark red velvet

curtains to the side for the light to enter the room. The wooden floor matched the brownish red brick

wall, giving the place an old theatre kind of vibe.

"Do you come here with her?" She asked while watching Pierre set up his cello as she stood next to

him.

He nodded. He doesn't seem bothered when she asks about his ex-girlfriend. "We practice a lot. You

could say this is our kind of date."

She smiled. For the past days spending it with Pierre, she would still think about Flynn. He never sent

her any message or called her since that night that she would think about him again. Besides, Pierre's

accent and his built somehow reminds her of Flynn. But Pierre's character is the exact opposite of the

prim and proper Flynn, which just made her think how different they are.

"D—Do you miss her?"

He looked at her while holding the cello's neck in his left hand. With the light coming through the glass

window, she saw Pierre swallowed as his Adam's apple moved up and down. "No. Not anymore."

She held her breath as he slowly leaned towards her and crossed distance between their lips, his right

hand gently lifted her chin for a soft kiss.

She's too stunned to move.

"You can still say No." He whispered when he moved his lips just an inch away from hers.

She can't find the strength to say it. She's confused. It felt like all of Flynn's memories with her are

starting to break into million pieces and all she could see right now is Pierre's handsome face.

"Just say the word and I'll stop." He continued as he gazed at her face. Her lips parted but no words

escaped her. His eyes nervously glanced on her parted lips.

He took a deep breath and moved his hands to cup her small face. "I just want to say that I'm a big fan

of silence when I gave you the option to say No."

Her hands tugged on his black sweater when she felt his knees weak. She felt his hand pulled her

waist and she didn't protest against it.

She felt his warmth as he wrapped his arms around hers. His lips patient and gentle, giving her time

until she opened her mouth and responded to his kiss.

"I love you, August."