Sam strolled over to Norm's corner of the bar, trying hard to look nonchalant, and feeling anything but.
"Hey, you guys ever hear Diane talking about some guy she's been seeing lately? Name's Kierkegaard or something like that?"
Both Norm and Cliff shifted on their barstools, looking at each other in barely contained amusement. Was he serious?
"Yeah, Sammy—from what I hear, he's showing her a real good time. Lots of late nights," Norm answered.
"Oh yeah," Cliff chimed in, "they're inseparable. I've seen him in the bar here a few times."
"Seriously?" Sam cried, "Where the hell was I?"
"Oh, you were right there, Sam. I don't know how you missed them, right under your nose and all…" Norm baited.
"She seemed really into him too. Couldn't keep her hands off him."
"Jeez, guys, why didn't you say something?"
"We thought you knew! Thought maybe he was what was keeping you from making your move on the fair Miss Chambers," Cliff continued, finding himself terribly funny at the moment.
Sam was gutted.
"Damn," he breathed, "How did I miss that? Am I that stupid?"
Seeing his distress, they decided to end his torment.
"Hey man, we're just messing with you. Kierkegaard is a philosopher. Died a long time ago."
"Yeah, of Danish extraction. A little known fact about him is that he was the first to make the connection between pastry and existential despair. The epistemological nomenclature notwithstanding, his pro rata stance on baked goods irrevocably altered neo-orthodox metamucilage. In fact, he-"
Sam had stopped listening.
"A dead philosopher! You're kidding me, right?"
"'Fraid not." Norm replied, taking another sip from his mug, "You know how Diane is about her men: Better dead then read."
Sam was struck with a revelation: To get into her bed, he needed to get into her head. This was no ordinary girl he was dealing with—he would only get so far with his sex appeal, no matter how incredibly potent it was. He was going to have to work for this one, but he had a sneaking suspicion it would be worth it. This inspiration sent Sam marching down the length of the bar. He was a man newly possessed.
"Coach?"
"Yeah, Sam?"
"Watch the bar, will ya? I've got a date with a librarian."
"Sure, sure. Where's the fire?"
"I'm trying to start one, Coach."
Without another word, Sam hopped over the bar and bolted up the steps on a quest. Coach turned to Norm and Cliff in a panic.
"My God, he's gonna torch the library!"
Sam made a beeline for the nearest library, a few blocks up and one over. After chatting up the old gal at the information desk, Sam was directed to a dark corner of the far reaches of the library, where the philosophy section resided. He scanned the shelves until his eyes crossed, and finally spotted the name Kierkegaard on a faded old spine. Pulling it from the shelf, he sat down right where he stood and began to read. Two sentences in, he decided it wasn't for him.
"This is what she's taking to bed with her every night?" he exclaimed, to no one in particular.
He was never especially fond of reading, and this stuff was making his eyes shrivel. No, he needed something quicker. Waiting for her was killing him, and by the time he got through this book, he'd be mummified. He decided he'd go where the brainiacs go. Emerson College was right up the street from Cheers. Even if he couldn't learn about Kierkegaard, he'd at least pick up something he could use with Diane.
He made his way to the lecture hall after asking several comely coeds where the nearest philosophy class was. A few strange looks and a few proffered phone numbers later, he found it. He slipped into the back of the room, where class was just getting started. The professor stood and addressed the class.
"People, today we continue our examination of the works of Soren Kierkegaard…"
Sam was elated. What luck!
"… I hope you've all submitted your proposals for your final papers. My office hours are from 4-6 today…"
"Alright, already, get to the meat and potatoes… and the danishes," Sam thought.
After what seemed like an eternity, the professor finally got around to some information he might actually be able to use. And he spoke plain English! This college thing might not be so bad after all. He could see why Diane liked it. He felt smart just sitting there listening to some other guy talk for 40 minutes. If only he'd finished up high school…
An hour later, class was winding down and Sam was just about to make his escape when the professor cleared his throat loudly.
"And so now, before we adjourn, I turn the class over to our own Miss Chambers, who will organize you into discussion groups based on your expressed areas of interest."
Sam froze in his tracks. Miss Chambers? The Miss Chambers? Here? Of all the classes at all the colleges in the Boston area, he'd picked hers. Had she seen him? Where was she? He quickly ducked into an open chair. Down in the front of the room, he spotted her, shuffling some papers before standing to address the students.
She smiled as she stood, tall and straight and the very picture of academia. She not only belonged here, but was running the show. It occurred to Sam that he'd never seen her like this—in her element—and it was a strange thrill to watch her in secret. Hell, it was a thrill to finally be able to stare at her without her noticing.
She had an aura about her—she radiated grace and light. Yeah, she could get pretty goofy, but she was earnest. Her heart was in everything she did. She wore it proudly on her sleeve, where it could easily be stolen or broken by the wrong kind of guy. Like that Sumner character. It still ticked him off that a guy like that got to her and then had the nerve to toss her away like that. That doofus dumped Diane. Proof positive that being a genius doesn't mean you're smart.
Standing in front of the class, she was outwardly confident, but he could tell by the way her fingers fluttered over the papers that she was feeling a bit nervous below the surface. He picked up on that little tic when it got particularly busy in the bar. She had control of her face, but her fingers would go into overdrive, tapping the brass rail or fiddling with a pen. No one else would notice this but him, he thought proudly.
Watching her, he was filled with admiration. Nerves or not, she was in control. She knew stuff, and these eggheads respected her for it. And damn was she beautiful. That smile knocked him out every time. And those legs...
The class immediately quieted down as she began reading off lists of names. A young man raised his hand.
"Excuse me, Diane—will you be leading any of the discussions?"
"I will be spending time with all of the groups, yes."
"Great," he smiled- a little too enthusiastically for Sam's liking. He noticed two other young men leaning in to whisper to each other, while another set high-fived each other. Sam was suddenly aware of the minor tumult she'd incited among the male students, and got irritated. Diane would call this objectification if she had any idea it was happening, he fumed. It was clear she was oblivious to her appeal in this setting.
Sam eyed a good-looking young man who sat across the room in the back row. He had his feet up on the desk and a crooked smile on his face. Sam didn't like the way he was looking at Diane. He reminded him of himself at 21.
Diane concluded her business and class was dismissed. Sam quickly slipped out the back door, but noticed that the guy from the back row sat tight. What was he up to?
As Diane packed up her papers, she fielded a few questions from students, smiling graciously and clearly enjoying being the center of attention. One invited her out for coffee, but she begged off—she had to be at Cheers soon.
The young man in the back waited, watching her as she said her farewells and started up the steps toward the open lecture hall door. When she reached the back row, he slid out of his seat and approached her with a broad grin.
"Hey beautiful…" he began, blocking her exit.
"Oh, hello, Steven," she replied, her focus on the door.
"How about that drink we were gonna go get?"
"I told you I can't fraternize with students."
"Easy now, this isn't fraternizing. I have some questions about the material. No harm in getting a drink before we… share information."
"Steven, no."
He stepped closer to her, and Diane bristled, uncomfortable with his proximity.
"That's not what you said the other night in the student union."
"That was a mistake. I had no idea you were a student in this class, and besides…"
"Besides, she's got a date," Sam piped up, taking her hand.
Diane was never so grateful to see Sam Malone as she was at that moment. Where did he come from? She recovered quickly from her astonishment and smiled up at him.
"Yes. I have a date," she parroted.
"So there'll be no information sharing tonight, kid. In fact, I suggest you find yourself another study buddy from here on out. Diane's otherwise occupied."
Intimidated, Steve took a few steps back.
"Sure, sure… I see… I didn't mean anything…"
Steve couldn't get out of there fast enough, and Diane breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Sam. What on earth are you doing here? Don't tell me this is your new hunting grounds?"
Suddenly self-conscious about his reputation, Sam averted his eyes and they started walking.
"Nah, I thought I'd give the college thing a try, you know. I swear I had no idea you were here. I'm as shocked as you are."
Diane looked suspicious for a moment, then brightened.
"Well, whatever the reason, I'm really glad you turned up. That boy has been relentless!"
"I could see that. Hey, at least he's got good taste."
"Thank you, Sam."
Diane smiled shyly, noticing that they were still holding hands. She made no move to let go. It felt good, walking with Sam like this. It felt right. She liked the feeling of her hand in his. His hands were big and strong and warm. She felt safe next to him, and happy to walk beside him, even if it was inadvertent. Most of all, she hoped he wouldn't pull away.
Sam relished this closeness with her—that she would let him touch her like this. For a while, he could pretend she was his girlfriend and that they did this all the time. As much as he'd loathed the word "girlfriend", it excited him when applied to her. He'd be proud to call her his girlfriend. Hell, after watching her in action in the front of that lecture hall, he was proud just to know her.
"So tell me Sam, are you seriously considering attending college?"
She loved the idea of Sam going back to school, and wanted to encourage him. As much as she teased him, she knew there was much more to Sam than the dumb jock façade he put on for the rest of the world. She'd seen flashes of his brilliance from the first time she entered the bar, and though she never acknowledged it, it never went unnoticed. She was endlessly fascinated by this dichotomy, and longed to know the real Sam Malone.
Her question set Sam on edge. He couldn't tell her he didn't finish high school. She'd really think he was an idiot.
"Sure… sure. Maybe sometime. Not right away or anything. The bar keeps me pretty busy…"
"You could go on a part-time basis…"
"It's still a big commitment…"
"Oh, but I'd help you, Sam! I'd love to!"
"Nah, that's okay, Diane…"
"Sam, you'd be great! I can see you now: Sam Malone, Phi Beta Kappa!"
"Nah…"
"I know some people in the admissions office…"
He stopped short and angrily dropped her hand.
"Look, would you back off? I said I'm not gonna do it, okay? I don't have time for this!"
Diane was chastened and her cheeks glowed crimson. She felt terrible for pushing. She always took things a little too far, and now, she'd pushed Sam away. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned her head so he wouldn't see. She clenched and unclenched her fingers at her sides in an effort to keep herself from crying. Sam noticed.
"I'm sorry, Sam," she replied hoarsely, "I just thought…"
Sam heard the catch in her voice, and immediately changed his tone.
"No—It's okay. I'm sorry… I shouldn't have yelled like that. Sweetheart, look at me."
Diane's wide blue eyes met his and he thought his heart would burst.
"Thanks for caring."
"I do care, Sam."
Sam scanned her face for meaning and saw only heartfelt sincerity, as he always did. He was overcome with emotion. Her words hit him right where he lived and he had no idea how to respond. He thought they'd better get back to walking before he put his own heart out there too. He wasn't ready for that. Not tonight.
"C'mon," he grinned, taking her hand again.
"Okay," she agreed, thrilled at their renewed connection.
"You know, I've been meaning to sit down with you and talk some Kierkegaard…" he began.