Chapter Text
NARE
Nare swept her hair into a tidy ponytail, then gave her face one last critical look before stepping out of her bedroom. She tapped lightly on the closed bedroom door across from her own. “Tamaris?” she called. “Are you–”
“I’m coming,” Tamaris grunted. “Give me two fucking minutes.”
Nare smirked at Tamaris’s customary early-morning surliness, then padded quietly down the hall to the living room. Athera was waiting pertly on the couch with a half-finished cup of tea in her hands, and she grinned at Nare as she approached.
“She’s awake, at least?” Athera asked.
“Awake enough,” Nare said drolly. She sat next to Athera and tucked her legs up on the couch. “Are you nervous about your first day?”
Athera laughed. “Me? Nervous? Of course not! Just a normal first day doing this job for the first time in the only Ancient Elvhen Studies program in the entire country. What’s to be nervous about?”
Nare sympathetically eyed her friend’s bright smile. She didn’t blame Athera for being nervous. Athera had been looking for a research coordinator position for years. Her new job at the University of Orlais was well-earned, in Nare’s opinion, and it was just a stroke of happy fortune that Athera was starting her job at the same time that Nare was starting her Master’s of fine arts with U of O’s prestigious — and infamous — Ancient Elvhen Studies program.
It was also serendipitous that Tamaris had decided she wanted a change of pace and place, resulting in the three girls splitting the rent on a cozy three-bedroom-plus-studio apartment close to the university.
“Don’t be nervous,” Nare said warmly. “It’s going to be great! By the end of the week, the director will be wondering how they lived without you making the whole lab twice as efficient.”
Athera grimaced and ran a hand through her hair long chestnut hair. “I don’t know. Professor Abelas did not sound that impressed with my lack of experience during the phone interview. I’m still surprised I got the job.”
“He probably thinks he can train you up fresh since you’re so-called ‘inexperienced’,” Nare said knowingly. “He’ll see how good you are in two seconds. I’m sure of it.”
Athera smiled at her. “Aw, you’re sweet. I bet you’re going to impress your new supervisor just as much when you meet with him tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” Nare said. But her belly jolted at the mention of Solas.
Professor Solas, she reminded herself. Just because she had a crush on her new supervisor’s voice didn’t mean she could start thinking of him in an informal way before they’d even met.
Oh, but he had such a gorgeous voice. The majority of her communication with Professor Solas had been via email, but the one time they’d spoken on the phone… Fenedhis, Nare couldn’t get it out of her mind. His voice was smooth and mild like a hot vanilla latte, with a curl of an Elvhen accent that made something shiver in her belly in a very visceral way. She was still surprised that she’d managed to keep her calm and sound like a reasonable and intelligent person after hearing Professor Solas’s first few words floating into her ear through the phone.
And that was just from hearing him talk about the Elvhen art stream of the program and the opportunities for exhibiting her work in the galleries in Val Royeaux. Imagine if he ever spoke to her in that beautiful smooth voice about other, less professional things…
Stop it, she scolded herself silently. She was being so stupid and horny, developing a crush on a man purely for his voice. Well, not just his voice: he was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, and strong-willed to the point of stubborn as well, if his academic position papers were anything to go by. But if Nare was being honest, his intelligence wasn’t the main thing that had been keeping her up at night for the past couple of months since she and Solas had last spoken on the phone.
It was stupid to be thinking such carnal things about his voice, though. She didn’t even know what he looked like — not for a lack of trying to find out, if she was perfectly honest. She’d searched online for a photo of her soon-to-be supervisor, but he didn’t have a faculty photo anywhere on the U of O website, and a Google search had been shockingly unhelpful, leaving Nare with only a blank slate to imagine along with that knicker-melting voice.
“Nare, you okay?” Athera said.
Nare jolted slightly, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
Athera gave her a shrewd look. “Something tells me I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”
“I thought you weren’t nervous,” Nare teased.
Athera grinned, but Tamaris’s grumpy voice interrupted before Athera could reply. “You guys have nothing to be nervous about. You’re going to impress the shit out of everyone. Now let’s go get some coffee already.” She wandered over to the door and started jamming her feet into her scuffed black motorcycle boots.
Nare exchanged a smirk with Athera, then popped up from the couch. “Good morning, lethallan,” she crooned.
Athera giggled and hugged Tamaris’s arm. “Good morning,” she sing-songed.
Tamaris groaned. “Fuck off, both of you. I’m only awake this early because I have a client in an hour.”
“Wait, is it already nine?” Athera said in alarm. She checked her watch, then squeaked. “Oh shoot! Oh shoot, I’m supposed to meet Abelas at the office in fifteen minutes!” She shoved her feet onto a pair of flats and grabbed her bag, then flung open the door. “Bye! Have a good one!” she yelled, and she bolted down the stairs.
Nare smiled at Tamaris. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
“Lucky you,” Tamaris drawled. “You get to suffer my morning-gremlin attitude all alone.”
Nare chuckled, and they made their way down the stairs at a more measured pace and wandered toward their favourite café at the end of the block.
It was a perfect crisp early-September day. The sun was a lovely warm wash of light, and the air was fresh and cool without being cold. The leaves hadn’t started changing colours yet, but the quality of their verdancy was starting to shift from the lush springlike undertones of blue to the more autumn-like undertones of yellow. When Nare pointed this out to Tamaris, Tamaris huffed in amusement.
“That’s such an artist-y thing to say,” she said.
Nare gave her a chiding look. “You say that like you aren’t an artist yourself.” She pointedly eyed the delicate vallaslin that curled around Tamaris’s left eye — vallaslin that Tamaris had carefully tapped into her own skin, and the same skills which had imbued Nare and Athera with their vallaslin as well.
“I don’t often work with colour, though,” Tamaris said.
“Isn’t your client this morning for a coloured tattoo?”
“Yeah, but that’s different than painting,” Tamaris pointed out.
“Your tattoo work is amazing, though,” Nare said.
Tamaris smirked. “Fine. We’re both amazing artists with mind-blowing skills. Are you going to buy my coffee for me because I’m so awesome?”
“I’m the student here,” Nare said with a grin. “You should be buying me coffee.”
Tamaris tsked. “Fine. Just this once though, you leech.” She pulled open the café door and gestured sarcastically for Nare to enter before her.
Nare chuckled and slid into the café. They placed their orders together, then sat at a sunny table to enjoy their coffee and fresh scones — vegan blueberry for Nare, and lemon-glazed for Tamaris.
Nare took the lid off of her cup and blew on her coffee. “So you’re coming to the start-of-year mixer tonight, right?”
Tamaris slumped in her seat and shoved a hand through her lush midnight curls. “Explain again why you want me to come to this mixer thing. I’m not a student.”
“It doesn’t matter that you’re not a student,” Nare said. In truth, she just wanted to get Tamaris out of the apartment before she started forming roots.
“It kind of does,” Tamaris said flatly. “It’s happening at the campus bar.”
“Lots of non-students go to the campus bar,” Nare pointed out. “It’s a nice bar.”
Tamaris grunted. Nare leaned toward her slightly. “Come on, Tam,” she wheedled. “Come to the mixer. Athera’s coming.”
“She works at the university now,” Tamaris pointed out. “It makes sense for her to go.”
Nare wilted. “What else are you going to do if you stay home?”
Tamaris’s reply was prompt. “I’ll rewatch The Archdemon Rises 3 for the fifth time and paint my nails.”
Nare declined to mention that Tamaris’s eggplant-purple manicure was still intact since she’d last done her nails two days ago. Instead, she widened her eyes pleadingly. “Please come? We’ll make a girls’ night of it. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
Tamaris eyed her stonily for a moment, then sighed. “Ugh, you and your baby blues. Fine, I’ll come.”
Nare beamed at her and took a bite of her scone. A leisurely half-hour later, they stepped out of the café.
Tamaris stretched her arms over her head. “All right, I’m headed home,” she said with a yawn. “You sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow so we can go to that museum exhibit together?”
Nare shook her head. “I want to see it before my meeting with my supervisor tomorrow.”
Tamaris smirked. “Hoping to impress him with your up-to-date knowledge of the local art scene, huh?”
Nare poked her playfully. “Yes, okay? I want to make a good first impression.”
“You’ll be fine,” Tamaris said. “You always make a good first impression.”
Tamaris’s tone was dry, and Nare gazed fondly at her seemingly standoffish friend. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I’ll see you later.”
Tamaris nodded and headed back to the apartment, and Nare turned in the opposite direction toward the modern art museum. She pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped open her browser to check the price of tickets for the special neo-Avvar exhibit; she was fairly sure she’d get a discounted admission with her student ID, but some of the museum’s special exhibits were even free for students, and Nare couldn’t remember if—
She suddenly slammed right into someone.
She stumbled back, then squeaked in alarm as she tripped over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. Her phone dropped from her fingers, and she grabbed for it even as she tried to find her footing, oh no oh shit she was going to fall down–
A strong pair of hands grabbed her arms, and Nare gasped as she regained her balance. “Shit,” she blurted. “I’m so sorry, I – my phone, I was distracted…”
“The fault is mine. I apologize.”
A heated ripple of recognition spilled down her spine. That voice. She knew that voice. She’d been replaying that voice in her head for months and wondering what the person who owned that voice looked like: how tall he was, how big his hands were, what his lips looked like shaped around the liquids vowels of that divine Arlathani accent…
Lightheaded with disbelief, her heart in her throat, Nare lifted her eyes to his face.
Her breath left her in a punch of shock. Gorgeous. He was gorgeous. An impeccably shaven head, a mere hint of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes which put him somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, lush lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, a delicate divot in his chin and a jawline sharp enough to cut, and his eyes…
His eyes were perfectly lucid, a perfect quixotic blend of light grey and pale blue that Nare couldn’t quite name, and they were so warm. His eyebrows were creased with a hint of concern, and when the crease in his brow deepened, she realized that she was staring.
“Are you all right?” Professor Solas said.
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Which was a good thing, because the only words Nare could think were you are fucking hot.
She nodded dumbly. A tiny hint of a smile curled the left corner of his lips, and he released her arms. “I apologize for the collision,” he said, and he crouched down to pick up his book and her phone. “I should know better than to read and walk at the same time.”
Nare watched stupidly as he rose to his full height. Fenedhis, he was tall.
He held out her phone, and Nare carefully studied his face. There was no recognition there. There was warmth in his handsome face, but no recognition. He didn’t know who she was.
Not that she would necessarily expect him to, since he was a professional and an intellectual, and professional intellectuals probably didn’t online-stalk their new grad students to find out what they looked like.
She took her phone with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “You are not hurt, I hope?”
Ugh, he was so good-looking. Why did her supervisor have to be her exact ideal physical type?
She dropped his gaze and tucked a stray strand of hair over her ear. “I — no. I’m fine,” she said in a tiny voice.
“Good,” he said. “And again, I apologize for the collision.”
She shrugged and tried to nod at the same time, then wanted to smack herself for being so fucking awkward.
“Take care,” he said. A moment later, he was walking away from her.
She finally dragged in a breath and watched greedily as Professor Solas walked away. For someone who had such a mild voice and such kind eyes, his gait was certainly confident.
Confident and sexy.
Nare blew out a breath and forced herself to turn away. She was shaking. Why was she shaking? Why was her heart beating so hard, not just in her chest but in her entire body?
Why was her mind completely taken over by the thought of Professor Solas stretching her naked body out on a desk, those warm grey-blue eyes scanning her from head to toe before he taught her all kinds of torrid lessons that she would never forget?
Fuck, she thought desperately. I am in so much trouble.