‘Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized’

Laila’s POV

I rushed through the hallways to get there on time.

“Meet me at the Library before our first lecture,” Harry said in his last text message.

I greeted Josephine and instinctively walked towards the spot where we sat down the morning we met. When I turned around the last corridor I saw him sitting right there, in that very place, with a book between his hands. He was more beautiful than ever, and he smiled at me in a way I felt my heart jump into my chest. I kneeled down in front of him and he straightened up, cupping my cheek on his hand as he moved closer, moistening his lips. I slightly parted mine in anticipation and couldn’t restrain a shiver running on my back when I felt his warm tongue brushing mine. I reached his sharped jaw with my fingers as our kiss grew eager.

“I wanted to do this here so badly,” he smiled against my mouth.

“You can kiss me wherever you please, whenever you please, now,” I muttered.

“Kiss me then,” he said crashing his lips in mine one more time. My lower belly pierced. I’d never kissed somebody in a library before. It was so extremely arousing.

“We can’t miss our lecture…” I mumbled softly trying to release myself from his grip.

“We won’t,” he assured me, grazing my nape, his forehead resting on mine.

We finally made it to the classroom but we were quite late. Dr. Hartmann is always late himself, so he let us in without asking for an explanation. Everyone stared in strangeness as we took our seats and I could hear the high tone of our female classmates’ whisperings all around. I knew I was probably blushing. I sat right next to Bernie, who was already laughing along with Marianne.

“‘Madman! Passion! Lover!’” She declaimed giggling at my ear. Harry heard her and started giggling as well. I could tell all the glances were on us.

–.–.–

“I have so many plans for us,” Harry said to me when we were having a cup of tea in our break. We were sitting next to each other, my back leaning on his chest in that special seat I like near the bow window of the cafe. He had still his book between his large fingers.

“What sort of plans?” I asked him, taking a sip.

“Well, in the first place, there’s a concert on friday. A secret gig…” He said slowly, trying to create expectation. But I was hard to get.

“Whom?” I said, my cup resting on my lips, not too responsive.

“The 1975…” He said smiling.

“But I thought their tour was over after the summer!” I exclaimed jumping on my seat. He knew how to get my attention too well.

“Yeah, it’s officially over, but we are well connected, with Niall and Zayn working in the industry–––he grimaced. Do you think you can come?”

“Absolutely!” I said, giving him what I intended to be a quick kiss. But his plump lips were far too provocative and his tongue is something I might catalogue as my first addiction. So moist, so tender. “And what else?” I managed to said after a while, brushing my hair from my face. That was definitely too hot for a public space but, oh, well.

“I was thinking about a trip to some cultural-historical place, perhaps…” He said.

“Where? Recanati? Rome?” I asked anxiously.

“Well, what do you think about San Lorenzo De El Escorial?–––he said in perfect spanish. You know, where Phillip II’s Monastery is, where the kings of Spain are all buried?” He explained hesitating.

“I know what San Lorenzo De El Escorial is about…” I said laughing, but my pronunciation was not remotely as good as his.

“We can take a flight to Madrid and then a train from there, or even rent a car.” He certainly did plenty of thinking about his idea. I felt so happy I couldn’t sit still. “It’s a beautiful little town on the slopes of a mountain. What do you think?” He said shyly.

“I love it! But when?”

“It would be perfect to go somewhere right away, but I would like to stay longer than a weekend. What do you think about Christmas?” He asked and I almost didn’t believe what I was listening. “We have two free weeks and it will be snowing.”

“Aren’t you going to see your family at Cheshire?” I asked him in disbelief.

“They won’t miss me that much,” he said taking a sip of his cup of tea and grabbing his book from the table.

“Are you sure?” He nodded, grinning. “Well, it sounds perfect to me!” I exclaimed and he leant down to kiss me. My mind went cloudy. But suddenly my enthusiasm turned into precaution. “Wait, my parents…” I mumbled.

“Won’t they let you go?” He asked with concern.

“I’m not sure…”

“Maybe if they know me they will give you their consent. You said they are open-minded…” He spoke, startling me. I’d never ask him to do something like that even if my father had suggested it.

“Would you meet them?”

“I’ll meet Pope Francis himself if that’s what you want me to,” he said firmly.

“I’m sure you’ll love to meet Pope Francis in any circumstances…” I joked.

“You are right. I have no secrets for you.”

–.–.–

“Are you in love, Miss Coleman?” The voice of Miss Franzen brings me back to the classroom.

“I’m sorry?” I mumbled, quite puzzled. What were they talking about that could possibly justify a question like this one? I can feel Harry moving uncomfortable in his seat.

“I asked you if you are in love, Miss Coleman–––she insists, and for your attitude I can tell you positively are…” She says dramatically. She’s trying me as she always do. I don’t want to play her game, but I don’t know what to do. This time she puts me in a particular, difficult place. “Very much in love, I dare to say…”

“Commentary of Sonnet 116…” Bernie mutters discreetly. Oh. Thanks, God.

“Unchanging, constant love; love that overcomes Nature, that conquers Death itself. It was a relatively common topic in times of Shakespeare writing this sonnet but, due to his leaf it has transcended into our time as practically a cultural mantra. The idea of romantic love is a literary topic that comes from medieval times, the Court of Leonor of Aquitaine, were troubadours sang a new version of ancient greek love adequate to their times. Probably by the influence of the arabic literature, with texts as ‘The Ring of the Dove,’ Marian’s cult or catarrhs’ philosophy, homosexual ideal of the perfect union evolved into a heterosexual concept. Troubadours, as mediators and agents of cultural divulgation of the time, took the new archetype throughout Europe. From Italy, after it was refined by the ‘dolce stil nuovo,’ it passed to Britain in the Renaissance. It consist in an ideal of love based on the merit of the gentleman that has to deserve his lady in order to win her favour, implying the notion of the perfect and purest love, the sort of love that would make people fight dragons. In the Renaissance the topic was simplified, but what remained was the underlying idea of an unpolluted, uncorrupted, predestined bond that has to be tested to be prove as true. Sonnet 116 is probably one of the finest and most eloquent writing about this subject. The verse is fluid, the verve is powerful as well as the images. The ‘ever-fixed mark;’ the circle, as ancient symbol of eternity; and, particularly, the ‘Time’s fool,’ a constant in Shakespeare’s imaginary, as we found in ‘Romeo & Juliet’ parallel, the ‘Fortune’s fool: The individual being counterposed to the external opposing elements, who has to stand by himself and fight against theirs ways. It ends with a moralising verse that calls us all to live by this love code as the only worthy standard.”

“Well, thank you, Miss Coleman. Your speech was certainly enlightening but you didn’t answer what we all wanted to know. ‘If thou dost love…’ Especially, Mister Raymond, over there, in the back.” Some classmates laugh. “Class is dismissed.”

“That bitch…” Bernie mouths. I instinctively stand up and turn around, looking for Eric. As I see him he simply nods at me, grabbing his bag and leaving. “Poor him,” she says as we watch him go.

“What about this Raymond guy?” Harry asks acting casually.

“Long time Laila’s admirer,” Bernie explains and I’m so mad I could kill Miss Franzen with my bare hands. She knows. She actually knows about Harry and I, as everyone else knows, and decided to publicly humiliate Eric because I didn’t enter her game. What’s wrong with this woman?

“She went too far this time, involving somebody else in our quarrel…” I mumble, glancing down, defeated.

–.–.–

Harry’s POV

Everyday I learn something new about Laila. Today it’s called Eric Raymond. It’s quite a strange feeling to realise your every move has been observed for about a week without you even noticing. I also learned that Miss Franzen is a lunatic to be careful of.

“I think I don’t have to do it,” I slowly spoke to Laila as I accompanied her to her bus stop.

“Harry, don’t confuse things as she does–––she said. You have to apply. It’s not even her own research. It is Professor Mallory’s. She’s in charge at this particular time because he’s in sabbatic until June,” she explained. She can be so impartial. It’s an amazing thing the fact she doesn’t fall for Miss Franzen’s games. Laila is that sort of person physically unable to feel hate, and that’s the reason she stands out and glows. “There’s a trustworthy examination process, and there’s plenty of other researchers. It´s not that you’d be working with her only.”

“How much time do I have to figure it out?”

“About a week or so…” She quietly said.

“Are you sure you won’t be mad? Speak to me faithfully.” She laughed.

“You know, Harry… I’ll probably sound as a complete fool, but I don’t even think she’s a bad person, even though what she did today. I honestly believe she started a game long ago and now she doesn’t know how to stop it, and gets carried on.”

“Why do you ever have to excuse everyone?” I asked, quite puzzled by her fair attitude.

“Because nothing in my life taught me to do otherwise…” She spoke firmly. She’s nothing as her cynical sister. “But let’s not talk about her anymore. What are your plans for the week?” She asked grabbing my finger and grinning.

“I’m planning to spend all the time I might with a beautiful girl I met.” I touched her cheek softly, leaning down.

“I’ve heard that girl has a pretty busy week…” She played along. But I didn’t quite like what she told me. I wanted to be with her so badly.

“Oh, does she?–––I asked trying not to look too dissatisfied. That is a shame. Well, then I’ll miss her very much, read the saddest poetry on earth and play a lot of bass guitar…”

“Maybe I could make it to your rehearsal on wednesday. Am I still invited? I’d love to watch you play,” she smirked. Yeah, we bassists have that edge.

“Of course you are. The boys would be pleased.”

“Well, it’s a date, then. There comes my bus…” She said walking towards the street. I caught her by her arm, pulling her into my chest.

“What are you doing?–––I asked her rhetorically. I’m not planning on letting you go any time soon.” I leant her against the wall and pinned between my arms. I inhaled the scent of her ear and started kissing her just beneath her earlobe. A small moan escaped from her throat. I moved through her cheek to her mouth, suggestively parted and overwhelmingly warm.

“But I have so much to do,” she mumbled.

“Something better than kissing me?” I cheekily said breathing in her mouth, my hand on her waist.

“Other category of matters.”

“And what would that be?” I smiled.

“I had to finish this classification for tomorrow’s meeting with Professor Hathaway.” I released her from the wall, fixing my hair, and leant by her side.

“Oh, your research…” I said, resting my head down in frustration.

“His research…” She corrected me. She needs to be that fair and accurate.

“Well, it’s yours too, you know,” I observed.

“In some way…”

“What are you classifying?” I asked turning towards her.

“‘Mary Sue’ characters–––she explained. But we are working with a pretty big corpus.”

“Sounds interesting…” I turned away, glancing at the buses.

“Have you ever read Fan Fiction?” She said with curiosity, turning to face me.

“Never–––I spoke. But you make it sound so intriguing I should start.”

“That’s because Proust has no fan base…” She explained, laughing.

“You; you are Proust’s fan base–––I said leaning down and pointing at her nose. Well, Swann’s fandom.” She laughed hard. “By the way, how are you two getting along?” I acted jealous, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well, it’s quite frustrating, you know?–––she answered. All that trouble for a woman that wasn’t even his type. I’m having a difficult time to understand him.”

“‘What fools these mortals be!’” I claimed and she giggled.

“Fictional mortals can be pretty stupid too,” she said, continuing the paradox. Her intelligence was as much intoxicating as her scent. All of a sudden she stopped giggling and turned away, looking down, as if she’d remembered something uncomfortable. “Well, I hope it won’t be too awkward meeting with Eric after what happened today…” She muttered.

“Are you meeting with Eric?–––I snapped. But why?” And, especially, when? But I didn’t want to be too pushy so I controlled myself.

“We are research partners–––she explained. We don’t work together regularly but we meet every tuesday and thursday.”

“I see–––I stammered. So he’s overexposed to your academic charms…” I said, trying to make her smile again.

“Oh, yes, my academic charms,” she mocked me.

“Yeah, absolutely–––I said slowly in my most serious tone. You have that unique quality to transform the phrase ‘homosexual ideal of the perfect union evolved into a heterosexual concept’ into a massive turn on.” She laughed, but I was being honest. Nobody’s mind ever gave me an erection until Laila’s.

“My goal in life finally achieved.” An iambic tetrameter…

“One more word and I will love you forever.”

–.–.–

Notes

That's how love was born to Western Civilization. Curious, isn't it?

A new character! What role will he play on the plot? Harry and Laila have so many plans! Can wait to get there and write all about it. And what about Miss Franzen? What's the matter with that lady?

Did Harry just declare his feelings to Laila? Find out next chapter. I'll probably update tonight.

Thank you so much to the subscribers and everyone who's reading this story. A bit nerdy but variety is the spice of life.

Check out my new Fan Fiction:

Dreaming Of You