One Night With My Alpha Professor

Audrey

The shop took shape slowly, day by day. Over the following weeks, I spent every morning, afternoon, and evening perfecting the space and preparing for the upcoming fashion show. It seemed that there was endless work to do, from setting up Gavin’s coffee shop to building plush chairs for people to sit in to filling racks with garments to be sold.

“Okay, lift it a bit higher–no, to the left… my left, Gavin.”

Gavin squinted up at the dark wood sign he was attempting to nail to the wall, one end barely clinging to the nail while he held the other in his hands. He huffed. “Audrey, we’ve been at this for hours. Are you sure it shouldn’t just go, like, here?” He gestured toward the opposite wall.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a laugh. “If you’re trying to make the place look completely lopsided, then sure, go for it.” “Fine,” he muttered, “but you’re lucky I’m putting in a free coffee bar. Most people would charge for the grueling labor.” “Ah, but what other coffee shop has free espresso and croissants for whoever needs it, right?” I teased, nudging him gently. “C’mon, Gav, I’ll order you your own big pizza when we’re finished with this.””

“Better have sausage and peppers on it,” he grumbled, although I could see a small smile tugging at the corners of my friend’s lips.

Truthfully, “Gavin’s Coffee Corner” was quickly turning into the heart of the shop. He’d taken over the design of the corner himself, with a small seating area coming together, complete with two leather armchairs and a refurbished side table that he’d insisted on rescuing from a thrift store.

It wasn’t enormous, but it was enough. I was just glad that any of my friends wanted a part in… well, any of this:

As Gavin hammered the last nail into the wall, Tina came through the door with her arms loaded with fabric samples and al handful of signs I’d hand–lettered the night before. I ran up to her and helped take some of the things off her hands, even though she tried to refuse.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about my idea for that LGBT counseling department,” she said, gesturing over to a raised platform area against the far wall. “I think it would be nice to set up some bean bag chairs and game areas over there. What do you

think?”

“Whatever you want, Tina,” I said with a grin. “That whole area over there can be yours if you want it.”

Tina looked thrilled. “Great,” she said, scurrying over to the counter and plopping down the bolts of fabric she was holding. “I’m gonna run to that yard sale down the road, then. I think I saw some used games and books that would be perfect.” Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“You need cash?” I asked, reaching for the envelope containing my small savings–which I’d been using to furnish this place. But Tina shook her head, already out the door. “Nope. Your mom just paid me for cleaning her house, so I’m loaded!”

I laughed, shaking my head as I watched Tina’s head of red hair run down the street. “Loaded” to her likely meant a few hundred bucks, but if she was happy, then so be it.

And I was just glad that she was still staying with Claudia, keeping her company and helping her around the estate. My mom certainly seemed less lonely with her around. And I think Tina needed a decent mother figure in her life, anyway, since her parents had still not uttered a word to her since coming out.

But as much as I loved what we were building here, one thought kept nagging at the back of my mind. It was the final piece of my collection for the fashion show; I needed something special, something meaningful, but every design idea I had fell

flat.

I sighed, catching my mother’s eye as she entered with a large mirror tucked under one arm.

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“What do you think of this?” she asked, holding it up. It had an ornate frame that was a little beat up, but would look beautiful with a nice coat of paint. “I had it sitting around in my spare room. Thought it might be better suited for your shop.”

I offered her a grin and took it from her, kissing her on the cheek as I did. “Thank you, Mom. It’s perfect.”

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But as I leaned it against the counter, my mother caught my eye and immediately noticed my perturbed expression. “You’re still struggling over that last piece,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” I admitted, pursing my lips. “I just… don’t know what to do. I need it to be perfect, but… I must have thrown out a million sketches last night.”

My mother frowned. “The velvet co–ord set didn’t work out?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t hang right on the mannequin. And it felt a little too ‘safe‘, anyway.”

Claudia looked thoughtful as she ran her hand over one of the bolts of fabric Tina had left behind. “You could do a hybrid of materials, maybe? Silk and velvet. Or something edgy with lace. Mix some patterns?”

It was a good suggestion. But it wasn’t quite the spark I was looking for.

She noticed my hesitation and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You’ll find it, Audrey. Just give it time. Maybe try focusing on something else for a while?”

I nodded, even though the worry was practically eating me alive. With Avis and Gavin’s wedding coming up in just two and a half weeks, not to mention the Italy trip in six months, and just wanting to get this charity off the ground, the fashion show was set to be held at the local community center in just one month.

A month.

It didn’t exactly give me time to ‘focus on something else. But I tried my best.

Days passed like that–setting up the shop, late nights at my sewing machine, all the while that final piece remaining unfinished. On more than one occasion, I would scrap a half–finished piece or angrily wad up a sketch and toss it across the room, cursing to myself.

One evening, as Edwin and I sat on the floor of my new studio–slash–office upstairs from the shop, sorting through sketches while the others laughed too loudly downstairs, the sound of small footsteps pattered up the stairs.

I looked up to see Joseph approaching. He was quiet as always, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him coming. It was clear that the noise downstairs was bugging him; he had his drawing supplies in hand and looked like he needed an escape.

“Hey, Joey,” Edwin said, scooching over to make some room. “Come to join us?”

Joseph gave a little nod, then sat down next to us, pulling out a piece of paper and one of his colored pencils. Edwin and I continued to work while Joseph drew peacefully beside us, his tongue stuck out in concentration

Ever since Eliza had adopted him, Joseph had developed quite the knack for drawing. He could spend entire days at a time just coloring, and he was quite good at it, too.

Curious, I glanced over his shoulder to see what he was working on today. It was just a simple drawing of a flower, but the lines and colors were far more advanced than any seven–year–old I’d seen.

It was… beautiful.

“You’re so good at drawing,” I said, ruffling his hair.

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He looked up at me, his expression softening in the smallest hint of a smile. He didn’t say a word–he never did, and the doctors said that it was unlikely he ever would. Apparently, the factory had destroyed his vocal chords. A combination of the soot and likely… screaming.

But what he lacked in verbosity, he made up for in art and facial expressions.

Suddenly, the idea hit me.

“Joseph, would you be willing to help me with something?” I asked.

He nodded, tilting his head curiously.

“I need a lot of drawings. Anything you want. I just need a lot of them. Do you think you could do that?”

Joseph’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. He immediately pulled out more sheets of paper and pencils, ready to begin. Edwin shot us both a curious look, but stayed out of it for now.

From that moment on, Joseph became my silent partner in the project. Every time I saw him, he would bring me a new stack of drawings–images of landscapes, animals, people, whatever sparked his mind. Sometimes, they were darker like the ones he used to draw. Dark black voids, leering faces, shadowy rooms. But I accepted all of them, regardless of content. And as I worked on the rest of my collection, an idea for that final piece began to take shape in my mind.

It took a couple of weeks, each day inching dangerously closer to the show, but with my idea in mind, I knew I just needed to collect enough drawings and then it wouldn’t take long to assemble the final piece.

The shop itself came together over those weeks, too. Gavin’s coffee stand was now fully set up with a small chalkboard menu and hand–drawn signs advertising free coffee and pastries for everyone. Clothing racks filled every available space in the store. Tina’s counseling area was fully stocked with comfy chairs, pillows, blankets, and games. Betty’s desk was neatly arranged upstairs, where she could balance the books in peace–or at least, some semblance of peace, what with Peter constantly throwing marketing ideas at her.

And the night before Avis and Gavin’s wedding, as I placed the last stitch on that final piece–Joseph’s drawings in my hands, now woven into the fabric–I stepped back and took a deep breath.

It was finished.

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