GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE

Okay, Dr Frederick Chase thought to himself while trying to muse over his extensive research papers, that woman is definitely staring at me.

It was one of those days that one would classify as normal, but Dr Chase found that no days were normal. Every day to him brought new excitement and new adventure. Reversals in fortune, paradise regained seemed commonplace to him.

He coughed nervously and picked the Sopwith Camel up again.

"The Sopwith Camel Scout – a British plane used in the First World War. It was known mainly for its incredible manoeuvrability, and it certainly brought our allies across the pond a little success."

He gave a dry little laugh, which none of the students at the lecture seemed to reciprocate. He could swear that through the corner of his eye that he could see one young man sleeping on his desk.

And that woman in the back row was definitely looking at him. What was she doing? Was she listening hard? Was she gazing at him? Was she ogling him? Or – most probably – was she staring at the certifiable nutcase delivering a lecture to her. She tossed back her long dark hair, and returned to making notes on her clipboard.

Her face seemed to have coloured somewhat. Was that a blush? Or – well, the room was certainly overheated.

Oh, great. Now he felt like he was blushing too.

"Could somebody open a window?" he asked hesitantly. "It's impossible to lecture in this stuffy climate."

One of his students obliged, probably glad to be free of Dr Chase's intense lecturing. Several students seemed to be having a private joke among themselves, sniggering softly.

"Pendanski," he sighed, "are you going to sit laughing all day like – like – "

His eyes travelled to the gazing woman at the back. The moment their eyes locked, he had the words. A flash of inspiration when their grey eyes met one other. She was like an amulet – his little good luck charm.

" – like a collective pack of hyperactive hyenas on a steroid overdose and end up in a dead-end job without the diploma you covet, or are you going to listen to me and successfully graduate?"

A rich tumult of laughter resounded at the witticism. Dr Chase gave his muse of inspiration a quick, nervous smile, and returned to his lecture.

"The Camel was intended as a replacement for the Sopwith Pup, and the prototype took its maiden flight in December 1916…"

One painstaking hour later, the students emerged from the lecture hall, no more enlightened or open-minded than when they had entered. Dr Chase fretted slightly. He was a terrible lecturer – he had no self-confidence when it came to public speaking. He wondered why he had accepted this lecturing job at the university anyway.

As he collected up his rustling papers, he heard the distinctive click-clack of stiletto heels coming towards him. That sound irritated him immensely. Like the heel's point, it seemed to gore into his mind and disrupt his stream of thought.

"Dr Chase, wasn't it?"

That voice seemed to melt like butter. It was warm and tender towards him, despite how cold and firm it would seem to anybody else. It was a world away from the annoying shoes. He looked up into her face. He felt lost in those grey eyes, despite the storm-clouds they represented. That perfect skin, that flowing hair, that intelligent nose, that luscious mouth…

"Y-yes." Being in the presence of an attractive-looking woman did nothing to help his pitifully low self-confidence.

"I thoroughly enjoyed your presentation on the Sopwith Camels, despite your students – to put it colloquially – mucking around," she said briskly.

That was uplifting at least. A moment containing little ray of light bursting through a day containing gloomy clouds.

"You – you did?"

Idiot, his inner self snapped, Can't you say something intelligent?

"Umm…" he stammered, faintly aware that his mouth was beginning to hang open. He closed it hurriedly, his teeth hitting the roof of his mouth in the haste.

"However," she interjected, "I think you need to work on your style. I can help you with that." She gave him a momentary glimpse of brilliantly white teeth. "Just a little practice on oratory skills should keep your students' attention longer than you did today."

"Um…yeah…" he stuttered. "Yeah, I think I need to work on that kind of thing. I – I'm a little jittery sometimes."

"There's a wonderful little coffee shop in the mall," she interrupted. "Ellie's Espressos. I'll meet you there tomorrow morning at eight."

She began to stride away purposefully, leaving Dr Chase shell-shocked.

"Is that a date then?"

She stopped in her tracks, the stiletto heels grinding to a halt. She pivoted on one, producing an annoying scraping sound on the floor that made him wince.

"I suppose it is then," she replied carefully, before strutting away through the exit. Dr Frederick Chase stared after her, as her feet disappeared around the corner.

So his hypothesis was right. No day was normal to him.

"So – your confidence," she started. It was early morning at Ellie's Espressos, and Dr Chase and his new tutor in confidence were sitting at a table beside the window, sipping cappuccinos in moderation. "I thought you could try a few simple breathing techniques. I learnt this nifty one from my family – breathe in for eight, hold the breath for eight and then breathe out for eight. Simple, isn't it?"

Dr Chase was not aware that he had even been asked a question. He was still too busy gazing into her immeasurably handsome grey eyes, mesmerised by their astonishing power. He was trying hard not to drool into his cup.

"I never asked," he murmured. "What is your name?"

"My name?" She was almost taken aback by the posed question. "I have many names, epithets, titles. But I am known forever and always as Athena."

"Athena," Dr Chase was impressed. "The Greek goddess of wisdom, arts and crafts. It is a strange name – strange that somebody as logical as you are named after her."

She slapped his wrist.

"Was that flirting?" she replied, almost touched.

"Perhaps," he returned to the proper conversation. "Perhaps not."

"Anyway," Athena restarted, "practise that breathing technique that I taught you. Night, day, whenever you can get the chance. I have to use it a lot of the time to get by with my family. Let's just say – they have their arguments."

"Athena," he said nervously. "I don't know how to say this, but…"

"What?"

He drew closer to her, budging his chair up fractionally at first before stopping. She seemed to lean forward too, and their lips met. It was warm and tender.

It was bliss.