This came to me whilst scrolling through the liesel x max tag on tumblr and mulling over my own interactions with a lecturer at my university (where I now work, and no, he was never my professor). It will be multi-chapter.
Summary: Liesel is intrigued by her history lecturer, the man with hair like feathers and swampy eyes. Her best friend teases her relentlessly about her little crush.
She tries to take notes, really, she does. She listens as Professor Max Vandenburg's voice describes Austro-Hungarian Empire. He's too young to be a professor, she thinks. He's at least ten years older than his students, but something about the way he carries himself makes him seem younger and older at the same time.
She feels a sharp elbow to her side and turns slightly to glare at Rudy, her best friend. He was one of the university's finest athletes, a track star here on a scholarship. They met at orientation nearly two years ago and had become inseparable ever since (much to the disappointment of several girls in their year, and Rudy's amusement).
"Pay attention," Rudy hisses. He refuses to let Liesel's grades slip because of a silly little crush. Mrs. Huberman would blame him and call his mother, he's sure of it.
"I am," she mutters back.
"To the lecture, not his finely formed ass," Rudy says under his breath, teasing.
Her cheeks flush and she discreetly sends a swift kick to his shin. Rudy winces a bit and glares at her. She stares at her notebook and grips her pen tightly, and he tries not to laugh at her expression.
Class ends soon enough, and Professor Vandenburg tells them to work on their essays that are due next week. Before Liesel and Rudy can make it out the door (they're practically the last ones out since they sit all the way at the back, up the rows of tables), he stops them.
"Miss Meminger, may I have a word? It's about your last assignment," he says his usual even tone.
Liesel nods, and she lets Rudy know she'll see him at the dining hall later that day. He sends her a wary look, then narrows his eyes at Professor Vandenburg before leaving.
"Was there something wrong?" Liesel asks immediately, worry tingeing her voice.
"Not at all," Professor Vandenburg smiles and Liesel's heart skips a beat.
He sits down at his desk and Liesel at one of the desks across from him. He goes through his worn messenger bag and takes out her report on the rise and fall of the Habsburg Empire.
"In fact, your essay received top marks. I even had Professor Strauss look over it to make sure I wasn't hallucinating," he smiles again, eyes twinkling. He reads silently to himself, and Liesel feels incredibly proud of herself, but wonders why he felt the need to tell her in person.
"Miss Meminger," he starts.
Her palms get sweaty, and she slides them against her jean clad thighs.
"Yes?"
"Have you considered literature as a major?" he asks.
"Literature?" Liesel repeats, confused. Why not history. She was good at history and had been considering it since she's still undeclared.
"Now, I'm sure Professor Strauss would love to have you in the history department, as would I, because you're clearly gifted, but you have a certain way with the written word.
You wrote a historical account but there was more there. You gave your writing life," Professor Vandenburg says earnestly. He looks very young in this moment.
"I recommend you make an appointment with Dean Hermann, as she's head of the literature department. I'm also offering a creative writing class next semester, if you're interested."
"You write?" Liesel asks.
"Not as often as I'd like," he admits. "You'll think about it?"
"Of course. Thank you, Professor," Liesel stands and takes her bag weighted down with texts. She doesn't have all her classes today, but a few of the books are for pleasure and she never knows when she'll catch a moment to sit and read.
Professor Vandenburg eyes her slumped shoulders and stands as well. He takes his messenger bag and holds out his hand. Liesel looks at him quizically.
"You have too many books, let me take some. I'm leaving anyway," he explains.
Liesel nods, a bit dumbstruck, and fishes out two textbooks (History of Art and Statistics) and three books (one a collection of Sartre, Sylvia Plath's Bell Jar, and The Fault in Our Stars), the last of which makes her turn red because she didn't want the handsome professor to think her childish.
"Is this good?" he asks as they leave the classroom and he locks the door.
"Pretty good," Liesel says, her tone stilted.
"I'll have to read it then," he says politely.
Liesel bites the inside of her cheek and the walk is made in companionable silence until both realize they have no idea where they're going.
"Where—" they start at the same time.
He lets out a short laugh and Liesel looks down at her scuffed up shoes.
"Where are you headed, Miss Meminger?" Professor Vandenburg asks.
She wants to say to her dorm room, but she can't be seen walking there with a professor.
"Library," she says instead.
"Of course," he smiles so that the corner of his eyes crinkle and Liesel stares at him for entirely too long, but he doesn't seem to notice.
They don't speak on the way to the library, taking in the sunshine the late fall afternoon offers them. There are leaves on the ground and the trees are nearly bare, but the sky is clear and the sun shines, offering some final weeks of pleasant weather before the incoming winter.
As they walk Liesel goes through her to-do list. Assignments, projects. Call mama and papa. Think about declaring a major. Important things like that. She had been reluctant to even attend Molching University in the first place, content to work in the bookstore in their small town. The city made her nervous at first, but she adjusted. Rudy's friendship and good spirit played a great part in that. She makes a mental note to text Rudy to let him know she was in the library—they could get a head start on their statistics assignment.
She sends a sideways glance to Professor Vandenburg, whose brown eyes look nearly amber in the sunlight. Liesel may even be able to see flecks of green if she got close enough. She won't ever be close enough.
They walk through the double doors of the library, blinking rapidly to get used to the change in brightness. There are students reading and studying, searching for books. Liesel likes the library. It's peaceful.
She finds a table and deposits her bag, and Max hands her her books. She takes them gratefully and his hands ghost over hers and she looks up at him with a small smile.
"Thank you," she says sincerely.
"Don't mention it. See you in class, Miss Meminger," Professor Vandenburn says, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
She thinks she sees him wink at her, but that would mean her imagination has gone wild.
She doesn't text Rudy. She doesn't do her statistics assignment, either. Instead she tries to lose herself in a book, only to be distracted by thoughts of her professor. He couldn't be a day over 30, she's sure of it. And she's 20, and would it really be so strange? She can tell other girls in their course like Professor Vandenburg, the way they ask him for extra help on assignments and theory. He's kind enough to help, oblivious to their crushes. Rudy rolls his eyes whenever Hannah or Susie or whoever stays behind to speak to him. Liesel says nothing in these instances. She tries to keep her distance because she knows she's nothing but a silly little girl with a crush. He probably has a girlfriend, or a wife, even.
Liesel lets her thoughts stew and she frowns at her book. She just had to take his class, didn't she?
Rudy is annoyed that she didn't let him know she was in the library, and over breakfast the next day in the dining hall he asks her how he should go about asking Becky Jones on a date. Liesel shrugs and tells him to just be honest, and he wonders aloud what good is it to have a girl best friend if she's no help with the ladies?
Liesel rolls her eyes at him and takes her empty tray, gracefully rising from their table.
"Fine, then. Try to charm her however you like," she says before leaving.
Rudy stabs his scrambled eggs and watches as Liesel leaves, blonde curls bouncing behind her.
Saturday morning, Liesel finds herself at a cafe just a few blocks from campus. It's blessedly quiet, due to a large portion of the student body being too hungover from last night's celebrations after the football team's win against a rival school. Liesel isn't one for sports. She goes to Rudy's track meets, that's about it. He went to the game with Becky last night, and Liesel assumes it went well since he hasn't called yet.
She sits in a corner, settled at a table rather than the plush couch across from her. She needs to stay focused. She has research to do about the suffragist movement for her women's history class, as well as needing to work on her essay for history.
She scrolls through an article on her laptop while she sips on coffee - black with two sugars - and soft music plays from her headphones. A blueberry muffin remains untouched on the plate next to her laptop, and the plate sits precariously on a stack of books.
Liesel is so immersed in her own little world that she's startled when she looks up to see someone standing in front of her table. She yanks the headphones out of her ears and blinks.
"Sorry?" she says.
It's Professor Vandenburg.
"I said good morning," he gives her a half-smile.
"Oh, good morning, Professor," Liesel says, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her.
"Do you mind if I sit here?"
Liesel looks around. The cafe is practically empty, with only two other tables occupied. Surely he doesn't want to sit with her.
"No, please, go ahead," she says politely.
Max smiles, a true smile, and sits down across from her. He has a mug of coffee and the newspaper. Liesel eyes it with a small smirk.
"Old school, huh?" she asks.
"Old school for an old man," he grins.
"I didn't mean to call you old, Professor, I'm sorry," Liesel blurts out, worried she offended him.
"It's fine, Meminger. And you can call me Max. We're not on campus. Plus, I'd feel less old," he adds at the end in a wry tone.
"Then call me Liesel," she says.
"Liesel," he tries.
She likes the way he makes her name sound, but instead of smiling she takes a sip of her coffee.
"So, Liesel. You don't happen to be working on the essay for my class, do you?" he asks.
She shakes her head, "Sorry, Pro—Max. That's scheduled for later today."
"You have a schedule," he states.
"My mother is a very…efficient woman," Liesel says by way of explanation.
"Mrs. Meminger sounds like she runs a tight ship."
"Hubermann," Liesel corrects.
"What?" Max looks strange at hearing the name.
"My adoptive parents — the Hubermanns," she says nonchalantly. She's not embarrassed or ashamed of being adopted. The Hubermanns were the foster parents she was placed with when she was nine, after her mother and brother died in a freak train accident. She misses her mother and brother, but she also loves the Hubermanns dearly.
"Hans Hubermann?" Max asks slowly.
"Is my father. How do you…?" Liesel queries.
"I do believe my father was good friends with a Hans Hubermann while he served in Vietnam oh, forty years ago. He told me stories of his accordion playing," Max tries to recall the details.
"My father served in Vietnam. He drives mother crazy with the accordion playing, but she likes it, I know," Liesel says in surprise.
Max's mouth forms a wide, genuine smile.
"I can't believe it," Max brushes his hand over his face, "Dad would've been happy to know his old friend was well. He's well, yes?"
"Very well," Liesel confirms, "Your father…"
"Died a few years ago," Max nods, smile fading.
"I'm sorry. My mom died when I was nine, my brother too. Not Rosa, but my real mother."
"I'm sorry," he says.
Liesel gets a far away look on her face, one mirrored by Max, as they sit in the cafe in silence. Her coffee goes cold and he stares off into the distance, brow furrowed ever so slightly.
The door of the café chimes, signaling another customer. It draws them both out of their trances. Liesel pulls the nubby sleeves of her sweater over her palms and grips her mug tightly. She takes a sip, making a face at the cold liquid that hits her throat.
"Has it gone cold?" Max asks her.
She nods, moving her laptop aside to stand.
"I'll get it," he takes the mug from her easily.
Liesel opens her mouth to protest.
"It's the least I can do to thank you for letting me sit at your table," Max says with a gentle smile, "how do you take it?"
"Black, two sugars," she says, a bit dumbstruck.
He disappears and returns minutes later. Liesel thanks him and silently thanks the café for the free refills. She wouldn't feel right letting him pay for her coffee.
They sit in silence. Liesel pops the ear buds back into her ears and lets her study mix play as background noise. Max reads the paper, then takes out a stack of papers and a blue pen. He always grades with a blue pen, Liesel notes, since red is too harsh. They sit in companionable silence, her writing her essay and him grading papers. It's peaceful, almost domestic. Liesel pushes the thought of domesticity from her mind. That's silly. They were two grown up acquaintances (friends, maybe?) sharing a table and doing their work, nothing else.
Please let me know what you think. As I said, this will be a multi-chapter.