8 Minutes

"It'll take about eight minutes for us to get to the Cloud Deck," his striking blue eyes wavered on the blinking elevator rings indicating our swift ascent from floor to floor. 

At first, I'd found his appearance to be underwhelming: Closely cropped hair, clean-shaven, and a complexion resembling papyrus. As I got to know Professor Whitelock, I grew to wonder if he purposefully kept his air unnoticeable. 

Blue eyes that rarely stayed focused on mine. Blond hair barely noticeable due to its length. Knuckles grasped to maintain that calm expression on his face. Was he ashamed of being of "Aryan" descent? Was he trying with all his might to mute the traces of his heritage?

There was no denying it. He was German in every physical sense, but internally, he'd forged himself from a different metal. He taught in English, spoke like an American, and acted like he'd walked out of a foreign magazine. He'd learned to reject himself. I felt like hunting down whoever made him grasp his knuckles like that and making them regret their existence. After all, they'd made my professor do the same. 

"Don't worry, the heart is just a muscle," he quotes the Mountain Between Us. He must have observed how lost in thought I'd been and assumed it was nervousness. I didn't have the courage to adjust his misconception.

The silence between us—filled with mindless music—was laced with something thicker.

 The elevator dinged *6 Minutes*

"We should design an element to place in the elevator while sightseers wait in here," I suggested. "Something to keep them occupied before they reach the top. Maybe record a history track they can listen to if necessary?"

"Or we could make the elevator faster," he responded.

"The mechanics-"

"-just don't warrant a speedy ascent," he retorted and I couldn't help but chuckle. It's always been like this between us. The moment I got comfortable around him, we started finishing each others' sentences as if we were of one mind. He asks, "Are you laughing at me making fun of you?"

"Is it illegal to find my supervisor humorous?"

The air lifted, "Surely not." His smile turned rueful, "So much time has passed. You're now a far cry from that nervous undergraduate who I offered a position to six years ago-"

A slight shadow falls under my eyes beneath the bright elevator lights, "-and now it's all coming to an end." In less than six minutes, those elevator doors will open, I'll give a speech and cut a ribbon, then we'll have absolutely nothing to do with each other. There'll be no reason for us to clash with each other, tease each other, or laugh together. Heck, there won't even be a cause for us to talk. It will all be over. Am I ready for that? Am I ready to never smile with him again?

"The Cloud Deck was not an easy project to undertake. You oversaw a project that constructed the tallest monument the world has ever seen. You should be proud of yourself," he praises. 

"You know I've always struggled with being content with my work-"

"-which is why I'm emphasizing how proud you should feel-"

"-as usual." I don't know how long it'd been since we'd fallen into each others' eyes. Only when his gaze began to waver once more did I realize there was more meaning in them than I'd ever seen before.

 The elevator dinged *4 Minutes*

"I'd never gotten around to asking..." we began simultaneously.

"Please, you first," he said, ever the gentleman.

"Professor Whitelock," I began. 

"Yes?"

"Please go first," I teased. 

"You know I'd never do that."

"I know," I said, remembering the countless doors he'd opened and moments he'd sacrificed just to keep me comfortable. "I'd always wanted to ask you something..." 

His ears perked. 

"I'd never gotten around to asking because I assumed it may be too personal to discuss in a professional setting."

"Ask away," he smiled politely. 

"Why do you struggle with to maintain eye contact?"

His ears fell, "That's what you wanted to ask?"

"Yes. I know you're introverted but I speculate that there may be something more. I'm worried I may leave your life without ever getting a chance to tell you that they're beautiful, respectfully."

His eyebrows scrunched. "You think my eyes are beautiful?"

"I always have. They're kind, belie the empathetic human being behind them, and carry the spirit of the sky. I'm saying this now in case no one has ever informed you before but you have nothing to be ashamed of. Your heart is always in the right place. You're of German descent. Those two attributes can exist in the same person. You're beautiful."

"Will you," his breath escaped in stuttered bursts, nervousness, "would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"In a personal or professional sense?"

"Entirely personal."

"Professor Whitelock-"

"-Call me Benjamin-"

"Professor Whitelock. I hope you didn't take my words as a confession."

"They sounded like one, but I didn't. I'd meant to ask you to dinner after the ceremony but I couldn't wait. I need to know."

"Know what?"

The situation escalated faster than this elevator, "If you'll marry me."

I tried to conceal how my heart skipped with joy. "What?" 

"You were brilliant from the start. The years we've spent together have revealed the bright, humorous, witty, quirky, kind, and generous woman you are. I'm a traditional man with traditional values. I know what I want and it's you. The more I've gotten to know you, the more I've wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I- I don't know if I'm all that."

He scoffed in disbelief, "Humble too." His gaze reaches right through me. 

"I could say the same about you but tenfold."

"I want you to say yes to dinner."

I shook my head and look away. "How could I possibly say yes to your proposal? I've viewed you as my superior for as long as we've known each other."

"You could get to know me in a different light from now on."

"How could I? You make it sound so simple. How could I possibly get past the title of Professor Doctor Benjamin Whitelock? How could I? I'm so in awe of the beaming individual you've built yourself into that I don't know how I could ever see the man behind the work. Don't get me wrong. I know you're not perfect. You're human. But-"

"-what?" 

I remained silent. 

"But what, Khadijah?"

"But I just don't deserve you."

"According to whom? If there is someone who is entirely undeserving of the other, it is me of you. Have you met yourself? Your publications have changed the world. I am riding this elevator with you because your research and your work have made history. So no, Khadijah, you don't get to place me on a pedestal anymore because that position is already occupied by you."

"I can't..."

"Is that what your heart is telling you?"

"The heart is just a muscle."

 *2 Minutes* the elevator dinged.

"What thoughts is your mind formulating? I want to know what's going on inside your head."

"I've done the calculations. You're intelligent, well-accomplished, and an absolute stunner. There's no way you'd take me when you could have anyone else that you please."

"But yet here I stand, pushing against every shrivel of the fear of rejection that you know we both experience, and telling you that you are the one person I do not want to let go of in this life."

"Wouldn't friendship be enough?"

"Friendship?" he chuckled as he released his knuckles. "I will not take a step towards you as I know it may cause you discomfort, but if there is even a sliver of your mind that assumes that I haven't wanted you since you invented that "Quadruple Symbiosis" hypothesis during our sixth lecture then it is sorely mistaken. The grace you carry yourself with, the way your smile shines and stuns everyone in your path? I could not help but indulge myself in thoughts of you from time to time. I have respected you as best as I could and refrained from ever allowing myself to see our relationship as anything more than supervisor-undergraduate and graduate thereafter. I will not fight my heart any longer by lying that I do not want everything that you are. Will you have dinner with me?"

I couldn't say anything. What if I said "yes" and he discovered that I wasn't at all what he thought I was? That I got more anxious than he could ever imagine? How depression found me from time to time and I could barely make a phone call?

His hand reconvened with his knuckles. That gesture, oh that gesture that makes my knees weak and piques my curiosity like nothing else. 

If I don't take this chance, will I ever know how it feels to be loved by the man who has my heart?

 *30 Seconds* the elevator dinged.

"I will take your silence as a no."

"No-" I tried to correct him. 

"Thank you for letting me down gently."

"Professor Whitelock..."

"This conversation could have transpired in a much more terrible manner," he attempted a smile. 

I had less than thirty seconds to show him how I felt. How could I get through to him after pushing him away for so long? "Benjamin."

A shine passed over his eyes.

 *Doors Opening*

The elevator's doors opened on the Cloud Deck. Preoccupied by the sunset view amidst the cloud-studded sky, no one noticed Khadijah and Benjamin. The doors soon glided to a close, for behind them, a love that was sewn six years ago finally shared a kiss and came to a complete, perfect, and incandescently happy blossom.

--

Thoughts?

What do you think about the writing style I've implored in this short story?

Should I make this quirky love story into a book for all of you?