Myles'

Myles J. McAllister, III walked into Café Atlantic quite early on this breezy, overcast morning. It was rather quiet for a Saturday, he thought, as he stood in line to place his order. The café was just outside of campus, so it tended to serve an even mix of students, professors and the general public. He enjoyed coming here, as the coffee was exquisite and the tables were roomy, which was necessary for him to spread out his work and his computer. He planned on doing that this morning as well, while adjusting his computer bag strap back up on his shoulder.

While the person before him placed his order, he glanced around for an empty table to occupy, when his blue eyes locked on a pair of hazel ones across the room near the window. He gave a nod with his chin and received a two-finger response from the hand holding a pen.

"Sir, what can I get for you?" asked the clerk, "Sir?"

Myles turned his attention back toward the young lady reluctantly, his breathing a bit more

elevated now, as he collected his scrambled thoughts and placed his order.

Julians POV

Julian was sitting close to the window and going over some paperwork, enjoying evenly the warmth of the humming noise in the café as well as the warmth of the latte gliding through his throat, which he felt he desperately needed after a crazy night at the local police precinct.

He had spent the night there bailing out some friends of a law student of his. The boys had been in a minor fight and their friend hadn´t known what to do but to wake him up and try to get them out of jail to prevent them from losing their scholarship. He was still thinking about that brave girl. On one hand, she was studying law, on the other hand she was participating at the Cheerleaders squad, two things that just didn´t get along if it was for him. Besides, she was always late for class, seems that she wasn´t taking law that serious as it was for him.

Mulling over his thoughts, he took a look around the room which was constantly filling with people and spotted his younger colleague at the counter placing an order. Since he enjoyed the company of this young, promising man, he made a sign that he should join him, being too far away to see the flicker of excitement in the young man´s eyes.

Myles' POV

I paid the girl for my coffee, strong and black, just the way I liked it. I never did see the need for
all the fancy latte/cappuccino/espresso stuff hoopla with foamed milk on top. What
the heck was that all about anyway?

I turned around and adjusted the strap to my bag again, slipped my wallet back into my pocket and admitted to myself that I was stalling. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my coffee and walked towards him. He looked like a God against the light streaming in through the window. The only thing making him appear human was the people walking past on the sidewalk outside.

He didn't look up as I walked over, and even when I reached the table, he was buried in his work, writing furiously, glancing at his computer, then back down again.

I spoke first, "Hey..."

"Hey", he responded, still not looking up, but indicating with his hand that I should sit in the only other chair across from him.

I took the chair, placed my coffee on the table and held my laptop bag on my lap. A minute and a half of somewhat awkward silence went by as I watched him continue to work.

"This table isn't big enough for the both of us," I told him.

That made him look up at me finally and arch an elegantly-manicured eyebrow at me. I held his gaze and cocked both of my own eyebrows up, subtly tilting my head. The corner of his mouth twitched into
a grin.

"Well, Professor Parish... I have things to work on this morning as well," I explained.

He set his pen down, moved his papers towards his side of the table and made room for me.

"Please," indicating the now available space on the table, "big enough for you now... McAllister?" His eyes holding mine in a challenge, with a hint of innuendo.

I answered by pulling my laptop out of my bag and setting it down in the now cleared off, open space...

"Barely," I replied evenly. This time the corner of my mouth twitched into a grin.

Julians POV

"Myles, Myles," I thought while still rearranging my stuff to make room for him. Not particularly minding to share my working space right now after this crazy night. I should work on my assignments and preparations for class, but I decided I preferred a little distraction while continuing to swallow my wonderful caffeine-laded latte, from the only café that seemed to know how to prepare it to my rigid specifications.

I had known Myles now for only a short time, we had met occasionally at the legal office where he too donated his time to help people in need for justice who couldn´t afford an attorney. I had heard rumors that he had transferred from Denver Sturm College of Law due to some family problems. What sort of family problems can you possibly have being named Myles J. McAllister III.? Still I didn´t know if I could take him seriously. He dispensed an air of innocence and love of life, similar to what I often saw in my students and I asked myself how he could have still be this way after being several years beyond the era in which he would have been a college student.

"So, tell me ... McAllister, what are your plans for the upcoming weekend?" I asked him with an encouraging smile. I swear I could see him blush a little before he answered this not particularly difficult question.

Myles' POV

My coffee cup was half way between the table and my mouth when I stopped in mid-motion, my mouth partially open as it waited for the hot liquid, which never came.

The professor's question took me by surprise, I must admit. He certainly didn't beat around the bush, which was typical of an efficient and direct lawyer. I didn't expect anything less from him. It was an admirable trait, actually, one which I had used often enough after graduating from Harvard and passing the Bar Exam at 26 years of age, although not too many of my colleagues were aware of that impressive fact.

Having had more than enough of the "high society life" under my parents' thumb, four years after graduating I decided to move to San Francisco, practicing law at a couple different firms. After another four years, I came to the realization I'd rather be snowboarding during my time off, rather than breathing in the smog and clubbing until the wee hours of the morning, so I moved to Denver, picking up a position at Denver Sturm teaching for two years.

Teaching was my passion, it had always been, and would always be. I would have been happy teaching twelve- year-old students, feeding them knowledge, watching them absorb it like a sponge. Unfortunately that was something my parents didn't approve of. It was beneath the McAllister name; to them it was shameful, disgusting and unacceptable.

Graduating from Harvard appeased them enough. I became someone they could be proud of, brag about and praise.

Until Myles J. McAllister, II walked into Sturm one day three months ago, finding me amongst a group of my colleagues as he proceeded to walk up to me and slap me across the face.

"How dare you! How dare you tarnish our good name!" he snarled. "Your mother and I gave you everything, did everything we could to make sure you got the best of everything, so you would make something of yourself..."

"Father... Please... not here...," I pleaded, my face flushing red with embarrassment over the public spectacle taking place.

"Why not? The whole east coast knows now... is that why you left... there wasn't enough men to fuck there? You had to go find more on the West Coast?"

My heart sank, my face fell. Everyone in the room was uncomfortable, working their way to the door.

"Father... I... I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? You're s-o-r-r-y... shame on you Myles, fucking shame on you... God, what are you thinking... have you no honor for our family, our name, everything we've worked so hard to build?" He continued his hateful tirade, his face flushed with anger. "Your mother and I worked hard, so that you can live a life of luxury and this is how you repay us? Christ!"

The room was empty of everyone now, except the two of us.

"Father, please... it's not like that..."

"You make me sick, Myles," he said right to my face.

In all of my 36 years on earth, he had never, ever been this disappointed in me. I felt the tears stinging my eyes, but I wouldn't let him have the satisfaction.

I lifted my chin and spoke firmly as pride welled inside of me.

"Father, I didn't choose this, it chose me... and I'm sorry I never told you... knowing THIS was the reaction I would get..."
"Jesus Christ, Myles... shut the fuck up... how can you say 'you didn't choose
this'?? Of course you did!"

I walked towards the door, I had to get out; he didn't understand... he would never understand.

"Myles, go pack your things, we're leaving."

"Leaving?"

"You're coming back home with me. Your mother is beside herself, worrying about you, of all things." He laughed at the irony of the situation.

"I'm not going anywhere," I countered. "I have a life here; I have friends and students that need me."

"There is no debating this," my father curtly demanded, his disdain obvious to me in his condescending, hateful tone of voice. "If it was up to me, I'd leave you here in a heartbeat."

He walked up to me with a face full of disgust and walked out the door, not even waiting for my answer. "Get your shit together. You're coming home; your mother is expecting you, and you will NOT disappoint her again....and that's final!"

He walked down the hall toward the exit.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I shouted furiously, knowing with dread that I couldn't disobey him.

----

As my thoughts reverted back to the present, my hand finished its motion, bringing the coffee to my lips as I savored its taste. I couldn't very well tell "The Professor" I was jetting to New York City to join my mother and sister at Phantom of the Opera on Broadway, nor could I disappoint them by not joining them.

What I really wanted so badly to do, though, was stay here and find out what "The Professor" had in mind. I could think of several things I'd like to do with him... to him... beneath him. Fuck, I was blushing.

I held his eyes with mine as he leaned back in his chair, one hand on his "fancy latte/cappuccino/espresso hoopla with foamed milk on top" whatever the hell it was and the other hand twirling his pen between his fingers.

I answered him with a question of my own.

"Tell me, Professor, do you own a suit?" The corners of my lips lifted into a smile, reaching those very cheeks that had turned crimson.