Work Text:
It was a crisp, slightly windy mid-autumn afternoon when I met the fabled and feared History Professor, Dr. Alden René Bertinelli.
I had heard about how sweet and caring he was until five years ago when he lost his wife and newborn son within the same day. From that day on, his grief turned him into a mean and stern man both on and off campus.
And I knew everyone that I met at the library, including my bandmates, despised him for taking his grief out on them but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. No one should have to go through that much pain. And I wondered if someone could just thaw his cold heart enough maybe he would resort back to his old self.
I didn’t think that someone would be me, though.
———
The library was quiet that afternoon and since I finished all of my duties that were assigned to me, I sat at my desk with my elbows up and my fingers turning at the page of the book I was staring at.
The book was an old copy of Wuthering Heights that smelled of mothballs and fresh cotton and I was sucked into the story as much as I was when I first read it at 15.
But my enchantment between the pages was disrupted by Dahlia.
“Alice, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like, Dahlia?” I smartly said before turning the page. “I’m reading.”
“Did you finish…”
“Ugh, yes,” I groaned. “I’m trying to read.”
“Well, I’m so sorry to bother,” she huffed. “But I just wanted to ask you to watch over the reference desk for me. I have to take care of an errand. Do you mind?”
“Do I really have a choice? I’m here until 9.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back in an hour. And if someone comes to ask for your help to find a book, try to smile and not give them sass.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” I groaned, turning the page.
Dahlia just shook her head and grumbled something in Spanish before walking away and leaving the library.
A sigh of relief escaped me and I peacefully went back to my enchanted state of reading.
It was bliss and I got through three more chapters before I was interrupted by the sound of mumbling and heavy breaths.
My eyes rolled, but I didn’t even look up at the person whose shadow was now engulfing my delicate frame.
“Excuse me, where’s Dahlia?” the person asked with a heavy, gruff British accent. Their breath smelled of tobacco and hard liquor with a hint of peppermint.
Well, this person is definitely a male…and a heavy smoker…and drinker.
“She’s gone. How can I be of assistance?” I asked, still not looking up from my book.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” he impatiently asked.
“No, I have no idea,” I quickly answered back. “Can I take a message?”
“Ugh,” he angrily groaned. “I don’t have all day to wait for her. My class starts in fifteen minutes.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then you might need my help.”
“Can you even help me?” he rudely asked. “Aren’t you just a helper?”
“I’m the Assistant Librarian,” I declared before looking up at him. “And I don’t like your…”
I didn’t finish my sentence because as soon as I looked away from my book and at him, I felt numb all over my body.
I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I had no idea who this man was, but he was fucking hot. Not even just hot, he was beautiful. I had never seen a man as beautiful as him in person…only in paintings that my mother showed me in my youth.
My eyes first noticed his great height and the width of his arms. He looked like he was strong and his hands also looked sturdy and firm.
His clothing were a crisp white long sleeve, button down shirt that was unbuttoned at the top and khakis with a belt looped around his broad waist. And a few wisps of chest hair poked out from where his shirt was unbuttoned which made me almost drool.
Then there were his facial features…the best part of him. His chocolate brown eyes captured my soul and I was in awe of his cute crooked nose. Underneath were soft, full pink lips that were decorated with a nicely groomed mustache and beard. I also noticed that his beard connected to his well groomed sideburns that guided my eyes up to his glorious head of hair.
His hair was as dark as Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven and it was slightly curly and shining in the vast lights of the library. A couple of strands fell and were covering his right eye as another small strand dangled like an ahoge.
I was mesmerized and forgot that I was just lovingly staring at him until he started to chuckle. I blinked and looked up to see him blushing and covering his mouth as he kept laughing.
“Were you staring at me?” he softly asked.
“No, I wasn’t…”
“Oh, well that’s a shame, because I could have swore you were. I mean I was staring at you.”
Did he just admit that? Wait, does he find me attractive?
“Wait, what?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “But I think I will accept your help.”
“Oh, okay, well how can I help you?” I asked before throwing my book to the side.
“I was looking for a comprehensive book about Artemisia Gentileschi,” he said before leaning against my desk with his elbow. He smiled at me too, which made me giggle.
“Looks like we have a couple of books that might tickle your fancy,” I responded while scrolling. “They’re all on the third floor.”
“Oh, well would you like to show me where they are?” he asked, a little twinkle in his eyes.
“Sure,” I gushed before I took out the ‘Back in a Minute’ sign that Dahlia had lying around. I placed it in front of my computer, dusted off the skirt of my dress, and hopped out of my seat.
“You’re giddy,” he observed.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he gently said. “It’s cute.”
“Oh,” I cooed before we started walking to the staircase that led to the third floor.
“I must thank you for that laugh you gave me earlier,” he suddenly said. “I haven’t laughed like that in years.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.”
“Also I must say that you have a beautiful dress,” he observed. “You’re a fan of Piet Mondrian?”
“Yes, he’s one of my favorite 20th century artists. I have way too many to count to be honest, though. My aunt made me this dress.”
“She’s a seamstress?”
“Yep, she has her own shop too. She makes me dresses all of the time.”
“How delightful,” he chirped. “I also noticed that you were reading Wuthering Heights. Do you like English literature?”
“How could you tell?” I teased.
“Just a hunch. The Brontë sisters made some incredible work between them. I’m a huge history buff, but I do enjoy a bit of classic literature every now and then.”
“I couldn’t agree more. I fell in love with British literature when I was in high school. I had a great teacher. I also enjoy Jane Austen.”
“Wow, you are a woman of exceptional taste,” he gawked.
“I guess you didn’t expect that from a girl with a Piet Mondrian inspired dress,” I joked.
“I suppose not. Say, how do you feel about Shakespeare?”
“I prefer his tragedies over his comedies. Is that weird? I was always seen as weird for feeling that way.”
“No, no. Not at all. I feel the same way. It’s nice to finally find someone that feels the same,” he happily said.
I giggled. “So why are you interested in learning more about Artemisia? Is it her artwork or her life? Both are vastly interesting.”
“Both. You’re a fan?”
“I love her artwork. She’s my favorite Baroque painter.”
“You seem really fascinated with art history.”
“I minored in art history. My mom taught me a lot about the Renaissance as well as Baroque and 20th Century art. Those were all her favorite topics. She was a painter like I am.”
“Was?” he curiously pondered.
“Yeah, she died when I was 8. I look a lot like her.”
“Then she must have been a beautiful woman,” he whispered.
Did he just say that?
“Huh?”
“Oh look, we’re on the third floor,” he quickly said. “Where are those books?”
Does he think I forgot or didn’t hear him?
“Follow me.”
All of the art history books were to the left of the staircase and were organized by country of the artist’s origin and the style they utilized. It was a peculiar, uncommon way to organize books, but Dahlia swore by it.
“Okay, let’s see…Baroque…ah ha…Gentileschi,” I exclaimed before showing him the row of books we had about her.
“This is a peculiar way to organize these books,” he noticed while looking through the Gentileschi books.
“I know, but it’s Dahlia’s way…”
“Or the highway. Oh, I’m aware. I’ve known Dahlia for quite some time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she’s like my best friend. That’s why I was looking for her. She always helps me find books. I had no idea she had an assistant.”
“She never told you?”
“No,” he answered while taking one of the books off the shelf. “But Dahlia is an enigma. I love her, but she’s a strange old lady.”
“No kidding,” I huffed.
“I actually found two books that will be helpful,” he said, the two held in his hand. “I think I’m ready to checkout.”
“Great!” I chirped before we went back to the staircase.
“You know, you remind me a lot of my ex-wife,” he blurted.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Actually, it is. She was just as sweet and bubbly as you.”
“Oh, well thank you, I think.”
He chuckled. “She was also very interested in the arts, although she wasn’t a painter like you.”
“Oh, she sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” he moaned.
The rest of the walk back to my desk was quiet, but I did notice him smiling and looking at me on and off. It made me blush and giggle to myself. When we did get to the desk, he gently placed the books down and handed me his school id. I was so focused on him, that I didn’t even notice his name and that he was a professor. I just handed it back to him, scanned the books and put the checkout cards in the back flap.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you. You really were great help.”
“You’re welcome!”
“Dahlia’s lucky to have you around,” he said with a big smile before he left.
I caught a laughing fit once he was gone. I was just so happy. I couldn’t believe that this hot guy might have found me attractive. I was nothing to write home about and definitely wasn’t as hot as him, but he was still blushing at the sight of me. It was crazy.
I was so overwhelmed with joyous emotions that I didn’t even go back to reading my book. Instead, I took out my sketchbook from my book bag and started sketching his face. I mean he was so beautiful I couldn’t resist. His features were just so unique that he would make a great muse.
I ended up sketching his face both front facing and side facing using just my memory as reference a couple of times before Dahlia returned.
“I’m back, Alice,” she announced. I didn’t even hear her, since I was still furiously sketching away in my sketchbook.
“Alice?! Heathcliff is not that interesting,” she huffed, her voice gradually becoming louder as she approached me. “Wait, you’re not reading Wuthering Heights.”
“Not anymore. I was inspired so I’m sketching instead.”
“Well, color me shocked. You seemed so into Wuthering Heights. I didn’t expect you to stop reading it to start drawing…wait, I didn’t know you knew Dr. Bertanelli.”
“What?” I asked as my head shot up to look at her with a surprised look on my face. “What are you talking about Dahlia?”
“Those sketches…they look like Dr. Bertanelli.”
I was enamored with Dr. Bertanelli? But he was really sweet to me…because I remind him of his dead wife…oh my gosh.
“Oh, I had no idea…”
“Wait, have you met him?”
“I just did. He came in earlier looking for you. I helped him find some books about Artemisia Gentileschi.”
“Oh, that’s what I forgot to do. I forgot to tell him that I was gonna be gone for a while. Alden likes to show up and ask me to help him find books for his students. We also take that time to talk about his feelings and emotions. I’ve been like a second mom to him after Waverly died.”
“Oh, you don’t say. I never heard that he helps find books for his students.”
“Alden is tough and stern, but he’s still a good man and professor at heart. These kids just want the happy Alden back, but he doesn’t live here anymore. The best thing that they can do is adjust.”
“Right. Well, he was very nice to me.”
“I’m not surprised. Waverly was a lot like you.”
I figured.
“He did tell me that. I had no idea he was so attractive.”
“So that’s why you’re sketching him. Do you like him?”
“We just met…he didn’t even get my name and he didn’t give me his.”
“Alice, be honest.”
“Okay, yes. I like him. Is it that surprising though? I already told you I had a thing for Italian men and it’s even better because he has a British accent which is also a weakness of mine.”
“I guess I forgot,” she shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll let you sketch away. And don’t worry, Alden will be back.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I chirped.
———
I didn’t see Alden again until a week later. But by then, I had many more sketches of him in my sketchbook. It was a bit excessive, I know, but I was just so happy to have some inspiration for once that I went a bit overboard.
On Tuesday, he returned to the library. I was at the desk, reading Pride and Prejudice since I finished Wuthering Heights, while Dahlia was putting up a new display on the bulletin board by the entrance of the library. Alden walked in wearing a black cardigan with a red shirt underneath and black slacks. He also had some books tucked under his arm.
“Well, hello Alden,” Dahlia greeted.
“Hey, Dahlia. Is your assistant here?”
“Her name is Alice,” she remarked.
“Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn’t get it when we met,” he nervously said. “Is she here?”
“Yes, Alden. She’s at the desk were she usually is.”
“Thank you, Dahlia,” he chirped before he walked over to me.
His shadow overtook my frame again once he was in front of my desk. But this time, I quickly threw my book to the side and looked up at him. He had a big, bright smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.
“I see you’re reading Pride and Prejudice.”
“I did say I enjoy Jane Austen and I haven’t read this book in a while.”
He laughed. “Thank you again for your help.”
“Oh, no problem. I was just doing my job.”
“Doing your job quite well, may I add,” he assured. “Sorry for not properly introducing myself. I’m Dr. Alden René Bertanelli, Professor of European and Africana Studies. I teach at Powell Hall.”
“Oh, I see. Nice to officially meet you, Dr. Bertanelli. I’m Alice Rose Rodgers.”
“You have a beautiful name, Ms. Rodgers.”
I giggled. “You can just call me Alice.”
“Right. Feel free to call me Alden.”
“Okay,” I cooed. “So what brings you back here?”
“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit my favorite assistant librarian?” he asked jokingly.
“I mean that’s fine with me. I just thought you had another student to help.”
He looked at me dumbfounded.
“Dahlia told me about how you come in here to find books for your students.”
“I should have known. That woman has very loose lips.”
I giggled.
“Well, I guess you caught me. I’m here to visit my favorite assistant librarian and find some more books for a student.”
“I see. Are you returning these books?” I asked pointing to the books that he had since placed on my desk.
“Oh, yes I am.”
“Well, you walked right passed the book return.”
“Oh, right. Silly me,” he joked.
“I guess you were too distracted by my beauty…”
“I do believe so, Alice,” he cooed.
“What can I help you with today, Alden?” I tried to ask seriously, but didn’t due to laughing.
“I just need a book or two about Caravaggio.”
“Okay,” I chirped before I started typing away. “Say, do you teach an art history class?”
“I teach three different European Art History Classes. All undergrad level. I’m only teaching Renaissance and Baroque Art History this semester. These students are very brilliant and advanced, so I don’t mind helping them with their research papers.”
“Research papers, eh? Oh, I remember those days all too well. That’s very nice of you to help them.”
“Thank you, Alice. It also gives me an excuse to leave my office and spend some time with Dahlia…and I guess you too now.”
“Aww, you’re too kind,” I teased before going back to the screen. “Looks like we have way more books about Caravaggio than Gentileschi.”
“Excellent. Well, lead the way,” he chirped. “Oh, I almost forgot about the books I need to return.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go,” I insisted before he followed behind me.
“So what got you into art history?”
“My first fiancee, Pamela.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we met at Penn State. She was a Studio Art major, art history minor. But my ex-wife…”
“Waverly?”
“Yes, wait how did you…”
“Dahlia told me.”
“Of course she did. Anyway, Waverly really got me into it more than Pamela did. We even wrote a book together called The Comprehensive Guide to European Art.
“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m gonna have to give that a read.”
“Please do. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“I probably will. Is there anything else you like other than history?”
“Philosophy.”
“Philosophy?”
“Yes, my father was a Philosophy professor so he taught me all I know growing up. But I’m also a musician.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I can play piano, violin, flute, saxophone, trombone, and acoustic guitar.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s amazing.”
He chuckled. “Thanks. My mother is a musical prodigy and a writer so she instilled that in me as well.”
“You write?”
“Yes, I’ve written many non-fiction history books and poetry.”
My god. He’s perfect.
“You’re amazing,” I chirped.
“You’re too kind, Alice. But I am only human.”
“Yeah, a remarkably talented human. A Renaissance man, if you will,” I insisted as we walked over to the same shelves.
He laughed as he bent down to find what he was looking for.
“Ooh, I found it!” he cheered. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. I have a lot to choose from.”
“Did you think I was lying?”
“I just thought you might be exaggerating...” he murmured while he kept browsing.
He ended up grabbing four books and followed me back down to the second floor. On our way back, I started to ask him more about his life.
“Have you ever been to Italy?”
“Are you asking me that because you’re surprised that I have a British accent but an Italian last name?”
“Maybe.”
“Yes, I’ve been many times. I last went this past summer with my parents. We went to Florence and Rome.”
“I’m jealous. I’ve never been. I would love to go.”
“It is a beautiful country. Maybe I could take you one day.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I laughed. “So I assume your parents are immigrants…”
“Yes, they’re both from Florence. I was born and raised in London.”
“I see. That’s so cool. My life isn’t nearly as interesting.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. I would like to know a little about you since I told you a bit about me.”
“Okay. I’m from Olympia, Delaware and my whole family is skilled with an ability. My mom was a painter like my grandfather, Aunt Zora is an incredible baker, Aunt Gwendolyn is a seamstress; but I already told you about her, and Uncle Langston is an architect with his own architectural firm. I also have two cousins Gia and Ricky. Gia is a dancer and plays the violin and Ricky is a singer and pianist.”
“Wow, your family sounds extraordinary. But what about you. I know you love art history and painting…is there anything else about you I should know about?”
“Well, I am in a band. I’m the lead singer in the band, ‘Wishing on Roses’. We usually perform at this local pizza place downtown.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. See, you’re quite remarkable too.”
“Thanks,” I cooed before we reached the desk and I noticed that the books were gone. “Looks like Dahlia took care of your books.”
“I’m not surprised. She does like to keep a tidy space,” he shrugged.
I laughed as I sat down behind the desk and started to check out his books. “Here you go. These are due back on the 21st.”
“Thank you, Alice,” he started as he gathered the books. “I enjoyed talking with you again.”
“Touche. Take care, Alden.”
“You too,” he answered back.
———
Alden made it a habit to ask for my help to find books for his students. So much so, that he started to come by like every other day. I didn’t mind though. There was never really anything to do in the library anyway. I mean Dahlia did give me things to do, but I always finished my tasks much faster than she did.
Dahlia was convinced that he was pretending to need to get books just to talk to me. She said that he only really needed to get books once a week but now he was coming in almost every day. She was convinced that he liked me as much as I liked him, but he was too awkward to ask me out.
I eventually started to think the same so I decided to take her advice and ask him out myself. He would probably say yes, right?
He returned to the library the day after I had my last talk with Dahlia and was wearing a black sweater and jeans. He was very dressed down, but I didn’t mind. And to my surprise, he also had a bag in his hand.
“Hey, Alice,” he happily greeted. “I got something for you.”
He handed me the bag and I opened it to find a brand new copy of the book he wrote with Waverly.
“Open it,” he insisted.
“Okay,” I said before I did. When I did, I noticed that it was signed by him and Waverly. I was surprised to find this since she had been dead for 5 years…until he explained.
“This is the second to last signed copy of the book that I have. I wanted you to have it.”
“Oh, Alden, I couldn’t…”
“No, please have it. I insist.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. It’s the least I can do since you’ve been so helpful. I saved you $30.”
“How thoughtful,” I giggled. “What can I help you with?”
“Actually, I have a confession to make,” he started as he scratched the back of his head nervously. “After the Caravaggio books, I’ve been making up students that need my help to find books. I’ve only been coming back to see you.”
“I know,” I proudly said.
“You figured it out?”
“No, Dahlia did.”
“Of course,” he huffed. “I hope you didn’t mind me always showing up. I didn’t disrupt your workflow, did I?”
“No, no. You’re fine. I like you coming in. It keeps me from being bored.”
He laughed. “I still wish I would have just had the nerve to ask you out…but now I do…”
“I’m gonna stop you right there, Alden. You missed your chance to ask me out…so I’m gonna ask you out. Would you like to grab a coffee at Java Joe’s this Friday?”
“I would love that. They have a great Americano.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Yes, it is,” he happily agreed. “Thank you for putting up with me, Alice.”
“You’re lucky you’re hot and have a beautiful accent.”
He chuckled. “Right. I’ll see you Friday.”
“See you Friday.”