Photographs of Graves

My computer whirred in the five AM silence of an empty dorm room. Its light illuminated the room save for one huge shadow: Me, hunched over the screen, drinking my third cup of coffee. I jittered a little from the buzz. I had long since given up the idea of sleeping tonight, instead flipping between listening to Theodore Graves' husky voice from my little recorder and writing the article I had promised. His words crackled in my earbuds like a vintage record of a favorite band. As I wrote I couldn't help thinking about the conversation I hadn't recorded.

”I don't think you could turn me off.”

The shadows in my room cast dancing, sinking, fucking silhouettes across my wall. Some nights just become alive with desire, and tonight I was their victim. My article was clean, but my brain ran like a silent porno. I just couldn't seem to banish my imaginative interpretation of what it would be like to ride Theodore Graves all through the night instead of write this article on his history. I can't mention in an article his piercing blue eyes or dark curls or the ways his lips moved when he talked.

Damn sexual frustration.

I kept on writing as the shadows consummated their lust on my walls. I drank more coffee. Finished typing. I'd cropped it down to just three pages.

Zoe was at a friend's dorm, so I used the opportunity to get up and strip, leaving my clothes in a heap at the end of my desk. It was a rare occasion to be able to just stand naked in my dorm and think. Something about being nude just seemed to clear my head. It was the purest form of being. I unbound my copper curls and leaned my head back so they could cascade down to my back dimples, stretching my legs out languidly across my desk. I sat there for a long time, just watching the stars twinkle outside my window.

It neared six o'clock, and the sun began to crawl over the gray horizon with reds and oranges. It had been a while since I had watched a sunrise. A subtle but powerful wave washed over the campus, kissing every living thing with a splash of warm light. Rosy pinks and cool blues blossomed into life, spreading tendrils of color to everything around them. Finally the sun broke through my window, returning me to a warm fleshy tone. I sighed, sitting in the warm sunlight for a couple more minutes and doing a final edit of my article before hitting print and dragging myself to the shower.

Steam. Lots of steam. Scalding hot water. Luckily it was enough to purge my mind of the even hotter thoughts that lingered there. I wrapped my hair in a towel when I finished, letting the steam billow around me as I dripped onto the floor.

There came a rapping, rapping, at my chamber door.

Allusions to Poe aside, I quickly pulled on a tank top and sweat pants, forgoing bra and panties in my haste and rushing to the door. Zoe must have forgotten something.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll let you in after your walk of shame. Jeez, dude, you little who-”

My little whore was not standing outside my door as I expected. My words died in my throat as I looked up at Theodore Graves. He looked just as surprised to see me; Or rather, surprised to see me dripping wet, clothes clinging, with a towel wrapped around my head.

“You're not a whore,” was the only thing I could think of saying. Stupid, stupid Arden.

“You were expecting one?” Graves raised an eyebrow. He was shaved, only the faintest stubble remaining on his face, and was in a plain white Pink Floyd tee and khakis. I kind of missed the scruff, but he still looked great. At the moment I really didn't compete.

“Just my roommate. Erm,” I paused for a moment. “I finished the article, is that what you're here for?”

“How the hell did you finish it already?” he asked, but then regarded me a tad more closely and looked beyond me to the empty cups of coffee on my desk. He whistled.

“All nighter?” he asked. I nodded. We shifted uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked. “I can print the article and you can take a glance at it if you'd like.” I didn't know what I should have said, but I didn't want to be rude and send him away.

“Yeah, that'd be great,” Graves coughed. I stepped aside, really wishing I'd had a chance to clean a bit as he entered. Awkwardly I went over to my desk as he stood just past the doorway. I lifted the lid to my computer as I head the soft click of my door as he closed it behind him.

A hundred lusty daydreams from the day before clamored in the front of my mind, flashing like images on a projector. I worked to ignore these, quickly printing my article on the baby inkjet printer I got for Christmas. I turned, handing it to Graves, avoiding eye contact the best I could.

“So what are you here for if not for the article?” I asked. I think I came off a little harsher than I intended, but Graves didn't seem to take offense. He shrugged.

“I'm sitting in on your journalism class again,” he explained, “Since it's an eight AM class I figured you'd be up and might want to grab some coffee. I knew if I went alone I'd get harassed by some professor, and I'm really not in the mood.”

Part of me wondered what he was in the mood for, but I kept it to myself.

“Yeah, of course, I'd love to,” I nodded, “Just... Give me a sec.”

As I started to get ready I had that awkward moment of having to get my bra and underwear out of a drawer in my dresser, which happened to be next to him. I did this as casually as I possibly could and he politely pretended to be totally engrossed in my paper. I sighed, trying to choose between the clean red lace thong or the clean white lace thong and, settling on the red, picked up the matching bra. I have an attractive man in my room, might as well make the best of an awkward situation, right?

I grabbed a pair jeans and a soft t-shirt that was green and read “Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup” before disappearing into the bathroom. I dressed quickly, brushed and braided my hair, and applied some makeup so I could at least look kind of attractive. Once I was satisfied with my appearance I returned to the main room, slipping on a thin hoodie and my leather jacket. He was still reading my article.

“I think I'm good to go,” I breathed, slipping my phone and computer into my satchel before smiling at him. “You ready?”

~~

“You're an incredibly good writer,” he insisted after we had picked up our coffee. I snorted, but he kept going. “I definitely think you should try to work with Morrow & Sons. It'd be an incredible opportunity.”

“Hey, if I get offered that internship I'll take it,” I smiled at him wryly. He returned the look and messed up my hair. We joked a bit as we walked to the lecture hall, but upon entry I immediately split from him and went to a seat on the far side of the classroom.

I really hoped he'd understand. Looking back and seeing him standing surprised in the doorway I realized he hadn't, but there was nothing I could do right now. The thing was, if I came in looking all buddy-buddy with Graves and then it came out I might be getting this internship as Morrow & Sons I'd look like a slut. People would think that I blew my way to Europe rather than earned it by work. I didn't want that.

I slumped a little lower in my seat, getting out my computer and focusing on its blank screen. Graves tried to walk over and talk to me, but my professor caught him in a conversation that he couldn't escape. Soon after class started and he sat at the professor's desk, still looking a bit dejected. I hung my head guiltily. I don't remember much about that lesson.

~~

“Why did you shoot off like that?” Graves asked after class, catching up with me as I darted out of the lecture hall. I tried to keep ahead of him as my classmates filed past, some shooting glances in my direction.

“Because I didn't want my classmates to think,” I replied once we were mostly alone. Graves caught up with me quickly, falling into step beside me. He looked worried.

“'Think'?” he asked. “Think what?”

I sighed angrily, kicking at a pebble on the ground.

“Thinking that I fucked you to get an internship,” I finally answered. Blunt was the best choice in my book, and I needed him to understand. He laughed, sounding almost disbelieving.

“That's honestly why you ran off?” he laughed, “Because you were worried that they would think things about you?” Graves seized me by the arm, making me jump in surprise. I spun, meeting his ice blue eyes. They pierced through me like two needle-thin daggers, taking my breath away.

“Yeah, that's why,” I snapped. “They're my classmates. I live with them. I care what they think.”

“Murph, you're so stupid,” Graves pushed me, making me stumble back a couple steps. “What the hell does it matter what they think? You're better than them.” He was advancing on me now. I retreated back until I hit the wall of the english building, pressing into the cold stones. He crossed with me into the shadow of the building, casting both of us into darkness. His blue eyes still held a steely glint of the sun's rays.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” I tittered nervously. My hands gripped the stones.

“I read every single one of your class's fucking end of term papers last year, Murph,” Graves growled. “I needed to know who I was talking to. And your paper on the Romanov murders? It was brilliant. You were brilliant. I came here with the intention of giving you that internship, you stupid girl. What do you care what the others in your class think? It doesn't fucking matter. Are you a war journalist, or aren't you? Don't you realize that you're going to be attacked wherever you go if you go into this field? That you'll never be safe again? Don't you get it?”

He loomed over me as I tried to sink into the wall. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. I was trembling, mortified as his voice rose. He spat the last two words, something twisted and wild in his tone as he leaned so close that I could feel his presence prickling across my skin. He took hold of my chin with his thumb and forefinger, fixing my gaze into his molten blue eyes. I shook.

The gap closed.

I thought I might be drowning and might never get air again. His free hand knotted into my hair, fastening my mouth to his, lips hot like a burning metal that molded to my gasp. My mouth open I was powerless to stop the advances of his tongue, only quickly play for dominance of my body before he made me succumb. The hand that held my chin released me, wrapping around my waist like iron fetters and pulling me away from the wall and tight into his blazing chest. My hands pressed to either side of his face, fingers splayed in surprise, but my body responded with the level of desire that had been haunting my thoughts from the moment I laid eyes on Graves.

”I had one girlfriend besides Ilse, a girl named Karen that I got with after college ended, but that only lasted for a little while. Most girls just can't keep up with my line of work, I guess,” I remembered him saying yesterday in our conversation. I guess he had those same desires I had.

Just when I thought I was going to run out of air he released me, pulling back. We were both breathing heavily. He swept his curls out of his eyes and swallowed.

“Did that feel like something to be ashamed of?” he breathed.

No. No it didn't. I shook my head in response.

“Good,” he nodded. He backed up a bit. I swayed a little as I took a step toward the sidewalk. He caught my chin again with his finger, making me look up at him. His eyes were still smoldering, but that hunger in his eyes had been dampened for the time being.

“Hey, Murph, you're brilliant. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Then, out of nowhere, he just started laughing. I looked at him, raising an eyebrow, but he just laughed.

“What's so funny?” I demanded. He worked to stifle his laughter.

“I guess you're not used to getting grabbed and kissed by random guest speakers, huh?” he chuckled. I couldn't deny this was actually a rather funny concept.

“No, not really,” I beamed. He messed my hair up before picking up the shoulder bag he had dropped on the grass.

“Don't worry, you'll get used to it eventually,” he assured, beginning to walk away. He called back to me over his shoulder, “Hey Murph, I'm heading back to my hotel room, want to come with? I'll do some editing with you on your report.”

“Oh, yeah,” I called after him, then stopped, thinking. “Wait, what was that first bit?”

He just laughed.