When he finally arrived, she was on the verge of sleep. He tiptoed into the bedroom and headed straight for the closet. As he stripped off his jacket, he heard her stirring under the covers.
"Hey," she whispered groggily.
He spun around and grinned at her.
"Hello, gorgeous."
She sat up, propping herself up on her pillows.
"What time is it?" Abbey asked, in between yawns.
"The flight was rerouted due to traffic. We flew around for about three hours, and eventually ended up at Logan instead of Manchester."
"There was less traffic at Logan than at Manchester?"
"Apparently."
"Uh huh. What time is it?" She repeated.
"Ten after midnight. I'm surprised you're already asleep."
"I'm not clearly."
"You know what I mean."
He walked over and sat on the bed beside her. She smiled at him drowsily and lifted her hand to gently caress his cheek. Her palm traveled down his face and he kissed it as it reached his jaw line. She then pulled her hand away and dropped it to entwine with his hand resting in his lap.
"I missed you."
"Yeah?" He murmured softly, leaning down to kiss her lips.
"Yeah," she managed to whisper just before their lips met briefly.
They exchanged a lingering smile, then he stood up with obvious designs on the closet once more.
"Hey, how was your thing today?" Jed questioned as he unbuttoned his shirt.
"Harvard?"
"Yeah!"
"I wore blue," Abbey admitted with a pout.
He chuckled.
"Well done."
"I think most of the students took a liking to me though. One in particular."
After he pulled a t-shirt over his head, he turned to her with one eyebrow raised.
"Oh?"
"His name is Josh Lyman. He showed up to my class five minutes late and then I caught him staring at my chest."
Jed glared at her.
"That juvenile, perverted son of a…"
"Hey, take it easy, tough guy." Abbey laughed. "He's just a kid. And anyway it's not like he was the only one."
"What!"
"Jed, they're college boys that have been presented with a relatively young, moderately attractive professor. What did you expect?"
"Moderately attractive," he scoffed. "Nice try. Men go to war over beauty like yours, Abigail."
She smiled self-deprecatingly, genuinely touched as she always was by his frequent declarations of love, then shrugged.
"In Greece maybe. Not in Boston."
"That's right," Jed agreed. "You Bostonians would rather dump a couple tons of tea into the harbor."
By this time, he had changed into pajama pants and returned to his position on the edge of the bed beside her.
"So what was so special about this Lyman kid?" He asked.
"Well, when I caught him staring, I called him on it in front of the whole class. You'd think something like that would sufficiently do a kid in, but he was waiting for me after class, fully confident and matching me punch for punch."
"So he's resilient. What's the big deal?"
Abbey sighed audibly.
"Are you gonna wipe that disgruntled, jealous look off your face and actually listen to me or are we gonna do this all night?"
He relaxed the tension in his face and flashed her a half-smile.
"Fine."
"Anyway," she ventured. "Despite the fact that he's a government major, he's under the impression that all politicians everywhere are sleazy."
"Jimmy Carter?" Jed asked in surprise.
"I asked him and he said yes!" Abbey replied, just as astonished as her husband.
"Well, I'll be damned."
"So I told him my husband's a politician and he's not sleazy. He said he thought you sounded like more of an economist than a politician."
"Hmm," he mumbled pensively. "I can see why this kid stood out to you."
"He was the one who pointed out that I'd do well not to wear a blue sweater on campus."
"You wore a blue sweater?"
"Yeah…"
"The blue cashmere sweater?"
"Yes, Jed, what the hell…"
"Well, that explains why you caught the majority of your male students gawking at your chest, Abbey!"
She rolled her eyes.
"Can we talk about something else please?"
He grinned at her mischievously.
"We can talk about whatever you want, Mrs. Robinson, but I can think of a couple things I'd rather do. One in particular…"
Abbey giggled girlishly as he pinned her to the mattress and gazed down at her adoringly. She was becoming increasingly impatient and, as a result, pouted alluringly and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He laughed.
"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me."
"J, come watch The Cosby Show with us."
Josh looked up from his American History textbook in the direction of his roommate, Chris, and his current girlfriend, Amelia Gardner. They were huddled in front of the small television, intensely amused by the Huxtables, or so it seemed.
"Can't," he replied. "Gotta study for my quiz tomorrow."
Chris sat up and squinted in Josh's way, trying to discern the name of his textbook.
"American History. Don't you have a Genetics paper due tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Josh answered, nonchalantly. "I got it under control."
"You have it under control if you actually wrote it. Did you actually write it?" Chris asked doubtfully.
"No. But I got it."
"What are you gonna do?" Amy asked, not familiar with Josh's manipulative tactics.
"He's gonna talk his way out of it," Chris explained.
"And this usually works for you?"
"Yeah," Josh said. "Piece of cake."
"You know, Josh, I would just write the paper. Talking your way out of it is the kind of thing that would have worked with Professor Moore, but this new chick…"
"I can handle her."
"I don't know. I hear she's cool as all hell and I hear she's the hottest thing since Farrah Fawcett, but I also hear she's a Nazi with the grading," Chris said.
"She's a substitute," Josh said with a shrug.
"She's an adjunct professor. There's a difference."
"She's a woman."
At that, Amy jumped off of Chris' lap and marched over to the bed where Josh was lounging with his textbook.
"Oh, shit," Chris murmured.
Josh, who had returned his undivided attention to American History, was so engrossed in his textbook that he didn't notice her. She slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the floor. Chris cringed as it landed with a loud thump.
"Hey, Misogynist Boy. Up here."
Thoroughly alarmed, Josh nervously turned up his widened eyes to her angry, fiery ones.
"I don't know what in the hell makes you think you can slack your way through college by sweet-talking and, by the way, underestimating your professors, but you are not going to sit here and make derogatory comments about women. At least not while I'm in the room. Whoever this new professor is, I hope she serves your ass up on a plate for all to see." She glanced back at the television. "Back to Clair Huxtable. My hero."
Amy floated back over to the couch and sat beside Chris once more. Josh did not move a muscle. In fact, he was much, much too afraid.
"Who is this new professor anyway?" Amy asked at the advent of commercial break.
"Uh…" Chris pondered, as Josh was clearly scared to speak at this point. "Bartlet, is it? Dr. Bartlet."
Amy sat up straight.
"Abbey Bartlet!"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"Oh, my God!" Amy exclaimed. "She's my best friend's mom; I've known her since I was a baby!"
"Great," Josh muttered. "I really should have seen this coming."
"You better write that paper, Misogynist Boy," Amy said. "Because I have absolutely no qualms about calling her up and telling her everything I heard here tonight."