"Grace! Come in and meet my sister!"

It was three weeks into the semester, and Grace, just returned from a taxing creative writing class, stopped in the doorway of her dorm room.

"Your sister? Gabrielle, you mean?"

"I didn't know I had another one," Ally laughed, dragging her friend inside the room. Sitting on Ally's bed, sprawling out yet somehow elegant, was one of the most beautiful women Grace had ever seen. Her hair, thick and auburn, framed a perfect heart-shaped face. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her mouth like a small, half-opened rosebud, her eyes deep and green, framed by long dark lashes. Grace, who, like her mother, had always assumed that dark, vivacious Ally was the family beauty, was momentarily taken-aback, and then recovered herself.

"It's nice to meet you, Gabrielle. I've heard a lot about you." She leaned across to shake Gabrielle's hand.

"Same here," Gabrielle said, smiling in a friendly but lazy fashion. Presumably she was used to people staring at her, Grace surmised, wishing for the millionth time in her life that she herself could have any idea what that was like.

"Sit down, Grace," Ally said, motioning at the bed. "I've got chocolate cake as a special treat. There goes my lunch money for the next week, but still, it's worth it to have my big sister in my presence," she added, grinning. Then, as Grace attempted to sit down on the extreme corner of the bed, "Shove up, you great long-leggedy freak! Grace hasn't got anywhere to sit."

"No, it's fine, really-" Grace protested. Gabrielle pulled herself up into a sitting position, freeing up the end of the bed. "No worries," she smiled. Grace smiled back uncertainly.

"So, Ally says you're doing your masters this year?" she enquired.

"Yeah. More's the pity. I couldn't feel less like it. There comes a point in your life when you just feel like you've studied enough, you know? But still, I might as well finish what I've started while I'm on a roll. And it makes a nice change to be here. I spent the whole of last year in Texas. Ghastly place."

Grace smiled, not very sure what to say to this. Gabrielle, however, was one of those people who likes to talk and didn't notice if her audience was silent or not.

"Yeah, so I'm doing comparative literature this semester," she continued. "It's a bit tedious so far, to be honest. I'm not even sure why I'm doing it. Of course, the lecturer is a TOTAL babe, which helps. Heck, I'd go to subatomic physics if he was doing it."

"Gaby abhors science in every shape and form," Ally explained helpfully to Grace.

"Oh. Yeah, I'd rather do English too," Grace said, trying to stifle a sudden thought of HIM. If he were here she'd go to any class he lectured too, just to be near him.

"There are only three of us in his class, anyway," Ally was saying. "And the other two aren't up to much. He totally seems to get me; I'm thinking of asking him out sometime."

Ally rolled her eyes." Gabrielle asks out anything male on two legs," she grinned. Her sister batted her playfully with a rolled-up magazine.

"I can't help it if they all fall under my spell," she complained in a rather complacent tone of voice.

"But don't they - I mean, are you allowed to date lecturers here?" Grace asked, surprised.
"Ah, so naive! No one really cares what you do. In a strictly unofficial sense, of course. There probably are rules about it somewhere in the depths of ruledom, but no one pays them much mind. Honest. I've dated loads of staff; it's never been a problem."

"So you're going to ask the literature guy out, then?" Grace said, wondering if she would ever have the courage to do that. Probably not. In fact, certainly not, not after the Mr Dimitri fiasco.

"Yeah, we have a lot in common - I'm taking his course, we both have red hair...don't you find that red-haired people understand you like no one else?" she addressed Grace suddenly.

Grace jumped slightly. It was so much exactly what she'd always thought about herself and Mr Dimitri. No one had ever understood her so effortlessly and so completely before. Or since. She tried to force him out of her mind. Honestly, she thought crossly, she hadn't seen him for well over two years now, and she'd thought it would get easier in time. But somehow, it wasn't. Every time she thought of him it hurt just as much as it had on that horrible day in the Principal's office. And even though no one had so much as breathed his name since then, Grace couldn't help but be reminded of him everywhere she went. She no longer read the stories she'd written in her junior year - his year - and she hadn't touched 'As You Like it' for three years. The only thing she couldn't help herself doing was to take down the Chekhov book occasionally and run her fingers over the inscription on the third page. She tried to limit herself, to look at it perhaps only once a month, but she couldn't stop. It had come with her to college - there it stood now on the top shelf above her desk; innocent-looking, between her old well-thumbed copy of As you Like it and her journal from that same year. The latter two she never touched, but she needed them here with her, if only because she didn't want to leave them at home in case her mother or Zoë - or even Jessie or Eli - found them and read her true feelings out of them somehow - even though Mr Dimitri was never even mentioned in the journal at all. But the Chekhov drew her to it, every time. She needed it now. She craved it; she hadn't opened it since she'd been back.

"Grace?" she heard, and looked up to find Gabrielle and Ally staring at her. "Are you okay?" the latter demanded.

Suddenly Grace felt like she couldn't breathe. "I'm sorry, yes, I'm fine...I was just thinking about someone I used to know. Um, I have to go. Gabrielle, it was nice to meet you; I'll see you later, Ally...bye." And she walked out of the room as fast as she could without running. Once outside she ran down the stairs without looking where she was going, hot tears were filling her eyes; burning angry ones that streamed down her cheeks unchecked. She ran out onto the lawn and crossed through the bushes into the shrubbery, where she sank down onto the ground and cried helplessly, all the pain she had been bottling up for two years finally finding a release that was completely unstoppable.

How long she lay there she never knew; but when the tears seemed slower and she was able to breathe again, she looked up to find the shadows lengthening on the ground and a distinct chill in the air. It was nearly evening. She must have missed her poetry class. Great. That meant going all the way over to the English department and checking the notice-board for the next class's reading and assignment. It wasn't too far, but it wasn't exactly close, either, and Grace was in no mood to do anything but curl up and go to sleep. Still - she'd have no time tomorrow morning, and she'd promised ages ago to have lunch with Ally and David, and it was cutting it rather late to leave it until tomorrow afternoon. Besides, she knew it would niggle at her if she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing - and she didn't have a particular friend in that class to ask. With a sigh she got up and dusted the leaves off her shirt. She needed to go back up to her room and freshen up and pick up a notebook, but she didn't want to see Ally or Gabrielle. Still, it was nearly evening. Gaby had most likely gone back to her apartment - she didn't live on campus - and Ally was always watching her soaps in the tv room at this time of day. It'd probably be safe to pop up to her room quickly, Grace decided.

She was right. The room was in darkness when she carefully opened the door. The sisters had left. Switching on the light, Grace regarded herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. Her left cheek was all grubby and smeared from lying in the dirt for so long, her hair was messed up and full of leaves and twigs, and her eyes were swollen and red. She went down the passage to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her hair out. Her eyes still looked red so she put on some dark eye shadow to hide it. She didn't usually wear eye shadow: it looked good, she realised, surveying herself critically. She added some mascara too.

"And that's enough; I'm just going to get the notes and then come back to bed," she told herself. She hadn't had any supper, but she was too worn out to care. Brushing off her red blouse once more she ran back to her room, grabbed a jacket - it was distinctly nippy outside tonight - and her notebook, and then set off for the English department.

The department was housed in a building on campus, but some way away from Grace's dorm. As she walked she realised she was enjoying it, it was dusk and the lights were just beginning to twinkle on in the buildings around her. She passed few people, and no one stopped her or took any notice of her, which was exactly the way she wanted it. The crisp breeze was clearing away the dull headache she'd brought on through so much crying, and cooling her hot eyes and bringing a tinge of pink to her pale cheeks. She was almost sorry when she found herself inside the building which housed several of the major departments - including English on the ground floor. Grace made her way over to the notice-board for the various subjects and found the one for her poetry class. Not too bad: "Assignment due 29th September - Discuss the use of metaphor in 'Black Rook in Rainy Weather'. (1500 words). For Thursday's class, prepare "The Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by TS Eliot." She knew the poem pretty well already - they'd done it at school and it was one that appealed to her. And the notes she'd already made on the Sylvia Plath should suffice as the basis for that essay. So she hadn't missed too much that afternoon, thank goodness. Grace hated missing out on things and not being in complete control of what was going on. It was one of the things Mr Dimitri had accused her of during 'As you like it' two and a half years ago - that she was too much in control; that she never took a chance and bared her soul. She'd hated him for it, but, she knew, only because she cared so badly about what he thought. And then she had bared her soul, and he'd admitted how much that had meant to him – and that he had never been able to do it himself. Had she believed him? Did he really think he was a fraud? Perhaps. Grace had a sneaking suspicion that he'd had quite a bit more than the glass of wine she'd caught him with, and if he'd been absolutely sober he would never have said as much as he had. But did that make it all true? She wished she knew. And she never would, now.

She turned to walk back the way she'd come, glancing idly at the boards for the other classes. She caught sight of one which made her stop dead. A large quotation, printed neatly on blue cardboard, pinned to one of the boards entitled "Quote of the week."

' I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart'

Grace stepped back, surprised. The words were Rosalind's; she knew them perfectly, even now. Why were they there? It wasn't exactly a typical quote: it would have little meaning to anyone who didn't know the play. Of course, perhaps one of the classes was doing As you like It that semester. But still, it was a strange choice. Grace ran through the scene in her head. A few lines later Celia spoke about hating Orlando for her father's sake, then Rosalind replied, "No faith, hate him not, for my sake" and Celia said, "Why should I not? Doth he not deserve well?" and Rosalind replied, "Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do." It was one of her favourite lines; at the time she'd always mentally substituted Mr Dimitri for Orlando, and the scene had assumed the context of her family disliking him because he was her teacher, and her attempting to persuade them to love him for her sake. Because she loved him. She did. She knew it now. Swallowing the lump that rose unbidden in her throat, she began to say the words out loud. It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be, they came to her easily, and somehow brought back the magic and wonder of those early days with him: the uncertainty and the excitement. Grace stood alone in the darkened corridor and bared her soul as she never had before, the tears building up as she said the final line, taking on a sadness perhaps unintended even by Shakespeare: "Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do."

One step from the bottom of the staircase I stood, almost paralysed, listening to every word. I could make the choice - if I stood still she would never see me; if I moved one step down, into the passageway, she would. Which did I want? Which was right?

Grace stopped, feeling suddenly empty. She had poured her heart out and no one was there to hear it. Which, of course, was good - she would have been highly embarrassed if someone had walked in on her - but she still felt hollow inside.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself, turning back to the notice-board and plucking at the corner of the cardboard on which the quotation was written, more for the sake of something to do than anything else.

"I always said you were remarkable," came a voice behind her in the stillness. Grace froze. No...that voice...it couldn't be. She swung round. And it was.

"Mr Dimitri," she gasped. He hadn't changed. His hair was slightly longer, perhaps, but his eyes were the same - wide and full of warmth and depth, and his mouth smiling. Her stomach somersaulted.

For his part, though he had seen her eight times over the past three weeks - and how pathetic that he was counting, he thought to himself - he had always had to be careful not to let her see him, and so he had never been able to take her in properly, her eyes looking directly at his, her whole being centred towards him. This meeting was entirely coincidental, for once; he had been working late and had run up to visit a colleague on the second floor, and had just been coming down the stairs when he heard her reciting Rosalind's speech. Not like the other times when he had specifically followed Grace just to see her; he knew her whole schedule by now, and he knew the best places to hide and watch her. He was becoming a dirty old man, he told himself. A stalker. But he had to see her. The days when he didn't... felt so bleak and empty. And now, there she stood, dressed in jeans, a red blouse and a slim-fitting black coat. God, she was beautiful. Her expressive eyes, wide with surprise, her mouth turning up at the corners at the sight of him, her long, shiny hair caught up in a barrette, leaving a few stray strands to frame her face...and she looked taller and slimmer, somehow. He realised he was staring, and spoke, his voice slightly rasping because his mouth was so dry.

"Hello, Grace of my heart."

Grace gave an incredulous little gasp. It was really him, it was, and he was happy to see her. She put her hand up to her mouth. "Mr Dimitri..." she choked slightly on the last syllable.

"I think you can call me August now," he replied, smiling, taking a step forward, and as her face crumpled in tears of sheer joy, he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder and wept, her arms caught in front of her, between their bodies. Her hands clutched the lapels of his jacket, and he held her tightly, his lips pressed to the top of her head, with tears in his own eyes. At length he spoke.

"God, I've been waiting to hold you like this for over two years."

Grace looked up as he relaxed his tight hold on her, and though the tears were still streaming down her cheeks, she smiled, the most beautiful, happy smile he had ever seen on her face.

"Longer," she said. "I've always wanted you to hold me like this. Ever since we first met."

"I know," he replied, and then grinned suddenly. "Even that first day, when I was so harsh about your journal and you went home and told everyone you hated me?"

"How did you know-" Grace said, startled.

"Because I know you, Grace. I know you so well, better than I know myself sometimes. That's why it's been like a part of me was missing, these last two years."

"I know. I've felt the same. I missed you so much." She looked up at him with eyes so full of trust and love that he thought his heart would break. He couldn't even speak.

"What are you doing here?" Grace demanded suddenly, the realisation of what a coincidence this was dawning on her.

"Teaching," August replied nonchalantly.

"Teaching here? They gave you a job?" Grace said incredulously.

"Yes, well, stranger things have happened. I happen to be a fairly good teacher, you know."

"No, you happen to be a fairly spectacular teacher," Grace retorted, laughing, and he smiled. "I just thought that - after they asked you to leave the school - that you wouldn't be able to...you know."

"Teach again?" Then, as Grace nodded, "Neither did I, to be frank. But I applied here and they didn't say anything, so here I am."

"Did you know I was here?"

"Grace. That's the only reason I'm here. You're the only reason. I thought it would be best if I never saw you again...but I couldn't do it. I waited so long, Grace - I wanted to see if you were happy here, if you'd moved on, found someone else," he choked slightly on the last word but continued resolutely, "and so I came here and I watched you. Eating lunch in the cafeteria, reading on the lawn, sitting in class-"

"You've been watching me all semester?" Grace asked in surprise. Maybe that was why she'd felt so...reminded of him recently. Perhaps she'd been able to sense how close he was.

He looked abashed. "I'm sorry, I know it's slightly...voyeuristic. Like I was stalking you. But I honestly had to see for myself, if I was going to be ruining your life by coming back into it. I knew that I wanted to. But I didn't know what you wanted, what you felt, and I had to find out. So I watched you."

"And...what did you see?" Grace said softly.

"I saw the girl with the loneliest eyes," he said even more quietly. Grace bit her lower lip. "And I knew that I had to make them light up again - like they are now."

Grace let out a sob, and he pulled her to him again.

"Oh, Grace," he held her close, "I'm so sorry about everything. I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry everything went wrong, I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye to you the way I wanted, and I'm sorry I had to spend the last two years without you. But most of all," he pushed her back slightly so that she could look up at him, "I'm sorry I never got to do this before now," and he lowered his head to hers. His mouth touched hers: softly, gently, as it almost had that day in the car, he rubbed his lips against hers, feather-light, and then suddenly he couldn't take it anymore and he pushed against her, almost fiercely, his tongue penetrating her lips and into her mouth. Her tongue met it with the same eagerness and they kissed wildly, passionately, two lovers long separated who now wanted nothing more than to be with each other in every way.

How long they stood there, kissing in the darkness, neither knew, all they knew was that they had to be together and to stop would be torture. Eventually Grace pulled away, gasping.

"Are you okay?" August asked. "I'm sorry - is this too much for you?"

Grace laughed. "God, no. I just needed a breather, that's all. I kind of felt like I was going under there, for a second."

"Me too." he paused. "God, Grace, you are the most - amazing creature ever to cross my path. I can't tell you how much I've wanted this, dreamed of this - dreamed of you. I don't know if it's wrong, but I want you so much."

"It's not wrong, it's right," Grace replied. "It was always right. There were just ... obstacles. And there aren't anymore."

"No, there aren't." He looked seriously at her. "Does this mean, Grace Manning, that you want to be with me?"

"Yes. I want to be with you, August," she said without hesitation, and he leaned down and kissed her again - tenderly, this time, because they both knew they had forever in front of them.