It's finally Friday.

Sandy was so happy to have me with her that night. I felt I was finally building a family in New York. My loneliness was less present these couple of days, replaced by a warm friendship full of amazing breakfasts and loud laughs. That morning was no different. I woke up to the smell of hot coffee and pancakes, her indie songs playing on the speaker and Julio telling horrible jokes. It was part of my routine, and I was so happy to have that moment.

That morning, however, brought with it a weird feeling, a remnant from a vivid dream I had the night before. My last meeting with professor Molina changed my vision of her. I could call it curiosity, a desire to know more about who she really is behind that rigid image. In my dream, she was using the same dress I saw on her last time, shaping her body's curves. Her personality, however, was different from what I have witnessed so far. Looking into my eyes, she smiled at me with a sweet expression, shily placing her hair behind her ears while telling me about her plans of having dinner at a nice restaurant. She looked in love, was it with me? I remember feeling happy with the way her lovely eyes connected to mine.

The most uncanny sensation that stayed with me was the warm feeling in my heart, almost impossible to describe in words. It was as if my chest was full of pleasure by being in her company, listening to her talking about her day so comfortably. It was almost like we knew each other for a long time. Being together was not only natural, but a desire. The warm sensation in my heart stays with me, throbbing, almost pushing me to go back to sleep only to keep that feeling for longer.

Reality was a cold shower in my emotions. As soon as I realized it was all a dream, my rationality alarmed me to question the meaning of that dream. Suddenly, I felt uneasy with it, judging myself for even seeing professor Molina like a woman. A mix of guilt and confusion permeated my senses, pushing me out of my sheets. I knew it was only a dream, and the best way to forget about that was focusing on my day at college and, also, Sandy's birthday.

Concentrating on my History of Music class, I fought myself to avoid any memories about the professor's smile, albeit it was so vivid. The universe, however, was conspiring against my efforts, bringing professor Molina to my small world. She knocked on my class door as soon as the bell signaled the end of the lecture. When my eyes laid on her, I was pushed back to longing her presence in my heart, which made me really uncomfortable. Knowing that I was sitting in the middle of the class, hidden by two tall students, gave me the opportunity to feel some kind of protection. As I said, though, the universe had a plan to mess with my sanity, and as soon as she started talking, her eyes crossed with mine. I could swear that a slight surprise took over her expression, and for a second, she forgot her words.

"Hello everyone. I am here to announce that an opportunity for students interested in performing arts just became available at the Opera School. We are opening auditions for two actors to play in "The Marriage of Figaro". We also have some positions available as pianists with the Music Academy. If you want more details, please stop at my office and we can discuss it. You all have a great day."

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Everyone around me seemed so enthusiastic about the opportunity to work with the Music Academy and Opera School, but I was so connected to her presence that I didn't pay attention to her words. 'Who is she behind this professor costume?' I couldn't stop thinking about it. That thought was so intense that I decided I needed to discover the answer. Leaving the class as fast as I could, I didn't even notice she was at the door, talking to other students. Almost running, I moved in the direction to the library, sitting by one of the computers.

'Professor Bianca Molina', I typed in the search bar, finding tons of pages about awards, testimonials from illustrious musicians, plays she took part in. Even though it was fascinating, it was not what I was looking for. I wanted to tear up her professional image and see what was hidden inside. One of the websites had a small biography of her, written six years ago.

"Bianca Molina is a new professor at NYU. An exemplary pianist from Spain, her curriculum has collaborations with distinguished musicians from all over the world. Her talent was discovered when she was five years old, by a piano teacher, in a small city in Spain. Being her first admirer and mentor, Carlos Gonzales, taught her all the fundamentals of piano. When she was ten years old, she was accepted to Madrid Royal Conservatory to study classical piano, being the youngest student ever accepted. Her genius talent gave her the opportunity to graduate from high school when she was fourteen years old. Since then, she has dedicated her life to music, performing in the best conservatories and music academies all over the world."

That short paragraph impacted me. She was not only a talented musician, but a genius. All the words she told me before, her sarcasm and disbelief in dreams, got replaced by the vision of a young girl facing the same world as I was right now, in my twenties. If I was scared, how did she feel about being by herself in Madrid, one of the biggest cities in Europe, pressured to always give her best? At the same time, I knew my understanding of her story was created from my point of view, and maybe for her it was the best time of her life. More and more questions started overflowing my thoughts, leading me to travel to a world of assumptions, theories, and eagerness.

"They also forgot to mention that I failed my two first classes. It was harder than they made it seem." A grave voice cut out my divagation, making me jump out of my seat. There she was, behind my chair, with her smirk smile and confident gaze. Embarrassment was not enough to describe my reaction to seeing her there, as if she had caught me in a lie.

"Professor . . ." I froze, still trying to put together my words, expressions, and gestures. She interrupted me by placing her hand on my shoulder, saying with a low voice:

"You shouldn't believe everything you read online. And, if you are that curious about me, you can just ask." She pulled a chair and sat next to me, waiting for my response, but the memory of her smile in my dream came back to me, and I couldn't separate that from reality.

So many versions of the same woman in my mind. The rude professor, getting mixed with the genius kid, giving place to the sweet, flirtatious Bianca. Which one was real? None? All? Her intense eyes were studying me, patiently inspecting my expressions.

"What are you doing here?' I said, changing the subject. Our eyes met for a second, before I looked down to my hands. I could see she was adjusting her posture on the chair, also trying to shake away the tension in the air. I was almost convinced that I wasn't the only one carefully measuring my words.

"This is a Library, Miss Olivia. What do you think I am doing here? Or perhaps, did you think I came here looking specifically for you?" Her laugh was so fake that even she regretted that reaction, avoiding my curious eyes.

The silence of the focused students and preserved books couldn't hide the magnetic energy that kept us both sitting there, instead of running away from that discomfort.

"I am curious about you", I whispered really low, not knowing if I did it because we were in a library, or because I thought it would sound less real in a quiet voice. Surprising to me, she nodded. Whispering back, but this time, close to my ears, professor Molina made my whole-body shiver under her voice:

"Ask me anything you want to know, Miss Olivia". I could feel her eyes on my shoulders, but I was unable to move my head in her direction, staying rigidly paralyzed. After some seconds wondering what I was curious about, I was about to ask, when a student interrupted.

"Professor Molina. Sorry to interrupt you. I heard about the contest, and I would like to participate".

I took that opportunity to move my head in her direction, believing she would be focused on the girl standing in front of her. To my surprise, my eyes met hers. They were laying on me while she answered the student, shining, as if I was the only thing that matters to her. Her lips formed a sweet smile that threw me back to her kind expression on my dreams. My heart started beating fast, my hands were sweating like never before, but I kept my eyes on her and she did the same. When the student left, probably witnessing that tense energy, professor Molina cleared her throat, adjusting her hair on her shoulder.

She looked at me one more time. I didn't run from her gaze, making her uncomfortable, for once.

"Miss Olivia, I . . ."

That was my time to interrupt her. I gathered the courage, not knowing from where,and I got close to the side of her face, whispering in her right ear. Our bodies were almost touching, our perfumes getting mixed in the air.

"When are you going to call me just Olivia?"

Undeniably, because of the proximity of our bodies, I sensed her hair tensioning, and her skin warming. Focusing on her face, I witnessed her eyes close to the sound of my voice, and it surprised me more than my desire and longing in my heart. The sound of a deep breath made me move away from her, followed by her squeezed eyebrows and tensed lips. 'Is she mad at me?' I thought, trying to read her.

"I will see you tomorrow, MISS Olivia", She said, deliberately intensifying the pronunciation of the "Miss". Grabbing her purse, she got up from the chair to leave. Hating how she always leaves me behind, with confused emotions, doubting my ability to think straight, I abruptly held her hand.

"Please", I said in a supplicant voice, choosing to look at anything else that wasn't her. I didn't know why I was reacting like that, but I couldn't let her ruin my night, making me wonder what she was thinking about me, or if I offended her somehow, or even worse, disappointed her. "Don't go like that, please".

I hated my voice, the words pronounced by my mouth, how pathetically I was conducted by emotions. I couldn't undo any of it. Now, while I stood there, holding her arms, I could see her back straightening while she breathed, preparing herself to leave me once more. The sound of her deep breath was as vivid as her warm skin under my touch. Her hand untied my fingers from her arm, and looking at me, she smiled, leaving me behind with tons of questions–and unavoidable concerns.

My ego was hurt. Ashamed with myself, I felt the embarrassment give way to anger. Suddenly, the same energy that pulled me to her, was now pushing me away from anything that reminded me of how she made me feel. I started hating how she invaded every part of my life, including my dreams, messing with my thoughts, destroying my day by confusing my feelings. She was gone, without worrying how I was feeling. 'Who does she think she is to come after me, mess with my feelings, then run away after I answer her provocations? Am I just a toy to her?'

I grabbed my backpack, hating how I let my guard down only to get hurt. Today, however, needed to not be about me, or professor Molina. After my last class, I ran to my apartment, getting ready for Sandy's celebration. I was not planning to dress up, but the feeling she left in me was so reduced, so insecure, that I needed to feel attractive. After almost two hours of indecisions about jeans or dresses, eyeliner colors, and perfumes, I was ready to meet my friends in one of the most popular underground bars in Brooklyn.

This bar's popularity was due to its history of being the first stage for, now-popular indie bands. When I got there, I was surprised by how unnoticeable it was for pedestrians crossing the street. It looked like a normal old house, with a small wooden door and vintage windows. Entering it, however, I was mesmerized by the colorful murals, the bright, large stage with its lights focused on the artists, wooden tables, and stools. The smell was citric, reminding me of lemonade. Opposite from the stage, it was hard to see through the crowd, hidden from the absence of light.

I only found my friends thanks to technology and the fact Julio is always posting his stories, sharing every detail of his day.

"Olivia!!" Sandy's voice yelled at me from the crowd. Received by her friendly hug, I felt I could finally forget my morning and allow myself to feel good about life.

"Girl, look at you! Are you trying to get laid tonight?" She laughed.

"Is this too much?" My insecurity visited me again but was quickly banned by Sandy words.

"Are you kidding me? You are gorgeous."

Seeing her so happy, celebrating with us, made me content with my decision on being there. Listening to some good bands, others not so great, my night was filled with laughs and hugs, helping me to forget my meeting with professor Molina.

"So, Bianca". Julio said, sipping his beer. "What is your deal?"

Confused, I looked at Sandy laughing so abruptly that she almost spilled beer all over us.

"My deal? What do you mean?"

"He wants to know your sexual preference, let's say like that"

I wasn't expecting that question, one of many that I have been avoiding. Sandy noticed my embarrassment, answering Julio on my behalf.

"Why do you want to know, Julio? Wait, are you hitting on her? Oh, sweet boy" – Her fingers were smashing the boy's cheek.

"Not necessarily." He jokes. "It's just because I noticed someone has been looking at her for the past 30 minutes, so I was curious if she would be interested." His ironic tone, mixed with a mysterious look, made all of us curious, including Andrew, who stopped kissing the stranger girl he met that night to pay attention to us.

"How mysterious" Sandy said, looking around trying to discover who he was talking about. I did the same, curious about how that person would look, assuming already it was a woman by Julio's mischievous smiles.

"Oh, Fuck" Sandy said. "She is marvelous. Do you think she is a model, Julio?"

"She definitely looks like one". He answered, reaffirmed by Andrew's nod.

Their eyes were trained to see in the darkness, frequenting Brooklyn's underground scene for years. In my case, I could barely see my cup of beer in front of me.

"Who the hell are you guys talking about?"

Sandy guided me, pointing with her eyes the direction I should look. Narrowing my vision, I searched for the mysterious woman to almost fall from the stool when I met professor Bianca's gaze. I froze, unable to think, move, or even breathe. My friends stared at me, asking questions, but all the exterior noise was silenced and the only thing my ears could focus on was on: my own heart trying to escape my chest. I can't say for how long we stayed staring at each other, but when I came back to myself, Sandy and Julio were whispering, wondering about the whole scene.

"Do you know her?" Julio asked with a friendly tone, as if he could understand something deep was involved in our gaze.

"Yes." I said, readjusting my body on the stool, debating on whether or not I should just leave.

"Do you want to talk about it?" This time Sandy was the one being kind, but none of them could hide their interest and intense eyes. Andrew was already gone, back to making out and, I wished the other two would do the same, leaving me alone to run back to the apartment.

"Nothing special. She is my professor. It was just weird to see each other here, I think." I cleared my throat, drinking my beer and avoiding looking in her direction.

"Wait, is it her?" Sandy said surprised, looking back at my professor that was still staring at us.

"Her? Who is 'her'?" Julio asked, almost laying on the table to get closer to us, as if that gesture would prevent him from losing any details.

"Yep. That's her, the bitch professor." I tried to exteriorize all the hate I had been holding for her. The memory of our last meeting made it too easy to convince my friends of my disdain for her, but deep inside, I knew that my feelings were more complicated than just hostility.

Sandy explained to Julio my whole story about how I met professor Molina at the airport, our weird conversations, and mean words. I couldn't pay attention to anything else that was not myself. If I wanted to keep my composure, all my attention would need to be focused on putting myself together. I didn't care what band was playing, who was next to me, or what gossip my friends were interested in asking me. I just wanted to recover my sense from seeing her there, right when I was trying to avoid how insecure she made me feel that morning.

"Oh Shit. Oh Shit. Oh Shit" Sandy said, finishing her beer in one shot.

"What now?" I said, raising my eyes to Sandy, but getting totally distracted by Professor Molina walking in our direction. Julio seemed more confused than I was, not getting why I was so uncomfortable, while Sandy was too excited by the drama.

Unsure of how it was even possible, she looked more gorgeous than I had ever seen before. My mind was running as fast as it could, trying to prepare itself for the possible interaction she was going to force us to have. Seeing her in tight jeans, a white t-shirt, and black jacket, blocked any chance of rationality in me. Her hair was free on her shoulders, shining brightly, while she moved in my direction, as if she was in a movie. Walking in slow motion, She stopped everything around her, making my eyes focus only on her.

I didn't know my heart could beat so fast, or my mouth could be so dry. How was I supposed to act? Should I be casual, or formal? Call her Bianca, or professor? My brain was freaking out while my eyes were fixed on her. She wasn't avoiding my eye contact either, which just increased my anger. I was reminded by her behavior, always pushing me to my limits to only leave me hanging with confused emotions, without taking responsibility for her own actions.

There she was, doing it again, coming to talk with me as if nothing happened, with no signs of fear or wonder about how I felt. Her confident walk and poker face just made me hate how insecure I was the whole day, while I was assured she didn't even think about me for a second.

"Hey Miss Olivia" she said with her husky, grave, voice that made me melt instantly, especially because it was followed by a sweet, shy smile. The moment got even more tense due my friend's presence, with their smirk smiles staring at our interaction.

"Professor Molina, I am surprised to see you here." I said with notorious indifference, staring at her with a disdainful look. Her lips shaped a dazed smile, pursued by her blinking eyes, knitting her eyebrows in a questioning expression.

"Why is it so surprising? Don't tell me you are the type that believes professors disappear in the air at the end of the class?" She gave a fake laugh, rolling her eyes to herself. That was the first time I saw her so vulnerable in my presence, which I hated even more for making it more difficult for me to feel disdain for her.

We look at each other. I raised a brow clearly showing I was hurt and didn't want to hide it. The corner of her mouth quivered, seeking answers I wasn't going to give that easily. She gave a lopsided grin, trying to be tough, as though she were challenging me to keep my attitude. My stomach started boiling, and I closed both my mouth and eyes, trying to control my desire to yell at her all horrible words crossing my mind.