Author's Note- Edited.

Enjoy!

Forbidden

Pie

Saturday mornings were usually my least favorite of the week. In all honesty, all I would want from any Saturday morning would be to sleep through it and then lazily lounge around in my dorm for the remainder of the day.

However, living on my own- despite the fact that Dad was currently paying for my college tuition, room and board, and text books- didn't come free. In addition to the deal where I attended NYU for my first two years of college, I had to convince Dad that I didn't want to depend greatly on his financial support. With his business in realty and the need to only feed two mouths, Dad was sweating money. That didn't mean that I enjoyed spending it, though.

So, my Saturday mornings were dedicated to working as a waitress at my favorite diner, as well as most of my Friday evenings and my Sunday afternoons. The majority of my tips were put towards weekly necessities while my paychecks were directly deposited into a savings account, whose purpose was to become my first down payment on a decent apartment once I started attending Juilliard.

Being as it was one of my favorite places in New York, I was at least grateful that, if I had to work on a Saturday morning, it was at Michael's Diner. When she was around, Mom used to take me here on her monthly business trips to the city and, since I had moved to New York, I nearly ate here on a daily basis. I was given a discount on off hours and was allowed free food when I actually worked. So, not a lot of my money went towards food rotting in my mini fridge back in my dorm.

I was currently opening my register at the breakfast bar stationed at the front of the diner while Nate was chatting idly on the other side about some new movie he was just dying to see. Gangster Squad, or something of that nature. It looked decent, but I wasn't a big Ryan Gosling fan. Nate, however, was a huge fan of Emma Stone.

"You should find yourself a nice, ginger girl and have freaky, ginger babies," I teased him when he finally stopped talking about the beautiful actress.

Nate blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable as he always was with this subject.

"I don't want to date her or anything." He commented defensively. "I just think it would be awesome if I ever got the chance to star in a movie with her in the future, that's all. Besides, gingers aren't really my type."

"You say the same thing about all the brunette's I've ever tried setting you up with." I deadpanned. "I swear, Nate," I started just as he was taking a sip of the complementary water I had gotten him. I smiled deviously and resumed. "With all the girls you've turned down, I'd say your type includes more testosterone."

Nate choked and started hacking up water spastically. His blue eyes bounced to mine, wide and disbelieving before he threw up his hands in an almost surrendering gesture.

"Chloe, I swear. I'm not gay."

"There's no need to be afraid of the truth," I laughed. "I'll still be your best friend no matter what. I'm not going to judge you."

"I'm serious, Chloe. Girls are my type." Nate had turned so red that his cheeks matched the color of his hair.

"Well, you don't like redheads or dark-haired girls, so what is your taste then?" I asked once I was finished laughing at him.

For a minute, it was silent between us as Nate stared intently at me. I couldn't tell if he was seriously contemplating his answer or had found something obscure on my face. I turned to take a quick glance at my reflection in the glass that protected the display case of the day's pastry specials, using the minute assessment to look for any abnormalities.

I wasn't the kind of girl that liked so much to stand out. So, there wasn't any makeup covering up the light blemishes I was already aware of invading my normally porcelain, pale skin. I didn't have very memorable features either besides my big, blue eyes and maybe my pronounced cheek bones. I had plain, wispy, strawberry-blonde hair that usually laid flat across my shoulder blades and tickled my collarbone. Only, today it was simply pulled back in a messy ponytail for work.

Aside from my face, I was a very simple girl. I couldn't be any taller than 5'2" and had a fairly underdeveloped figure. My Aunt Lauren always told me that I would be a late bloomer, just like my mother, who had finally shot up a few inches when she was in her late teens. I was already twenty, however, and most of my growing was done around the age of seventeen.

Looking on the bright side, let's just say that having a B-cup and the misfortune to still fit in junior's clothing made shopping ten times easier.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary with my daily appearance, I raised a brow back towards Nate, whose eyes were still skirting across my face while fogged with deep thought.

"Uh, Nate?"

"Blondes." He finally answered, blue orbs clearing into a crisp sea color as they met mine obstinately. I could feel myself color under his penetrating gaze, oddly anxious by his intensity.

Nate sometimes had this ability to make me feel like a young school girl whose heart he would never dare to break, just by using this insane power of his eyes. They would be soft, like a molten sapphire and hard all at once, their gaze clawing its way deep into my core and I often struggled to discover whether it made me uncomfortable or not.

Clearing my throat and breaking eye contact by escaping to the coffee pots in front of the pickup window where I had been roasting Joe for the first early morning customers, I severed the silence with a forcibly candid, "Why don't you ask out Liz or Hayley then?"

I heard an exasperated sigh and glanced back over my shoulder to find Nate's head bowed depressingly. I resisted the urge to laugh at his girl drama and found solace in the fact that he was no longer staring at me as if he could see right into my soul.

"Liz hooked up with Peter over the summer and you know Corey's got claim on Hayley since, like, the tenth grade."

"Well, you better act now, Bozian," I teased, grabbing the individual plates of fresh apple pie that Marcus- the diner's cook- was beginning to slide through the pickup window. I set them on the breakfast bar before arranging them in a presentable manner in the display case.

"You're almost twenty-two and are a shoe-in to be accepted into Juilliard. This is your last chance to fraternize with NYU girls."

"Yeah, yeah," Nate mumbled, tone strangely dejected sounding. "I'm working on it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him reaching- not so discreetly- for a vulnerable, miniscule slice of the diner's famous apple pie.

"Hey!" I snapped, swatting at his hand and smirking when he looked at me with pouty, puppy blue eyes.

"Paying customers only."

"Come on, Chloe. No one's even here yet." Nate whined. Quite literally, not even two seconds after those words escaped his lips, the entrance bell chimed and we both glanced up to the front doors.

While Nate muttered a bitter, "You've got to be kidding me," my mouth nearly dropped to the floor and my cheeks heated as if the temperature in the diner had escalated significantly.

Unaware of the two of us staring at him, Professor Souza stepped into the diner and glanced around for a table to occupy. Only, this man didn't look like Professor Souza. He was clad in an old pair of sneakers, dark jeans and, as he stripped himself of his gray jacket and hoodie ensemble to accommodate for the November chill, he sported a tight, navy blue V-neck t-shirt that clung gloriously in all the right places. His hair was wind swept and, while he made his way up to the breakfast bar, he ran his fingers through it several times to detach rebellious strands from his luscious eyelashes.

He paid Nate and I no mind as he passed us, taking the length of the diner in long, quick strides before claiming a barstool at the other end of the counter. I watched, once again completely hypnotized by the sheer aura that resonated from Professor Souza's being, now more hooked than ever where I witnessed him in an environment that was anything but school.

He looked so young and seemingly less stressed. Zen and relaxed, in fact, as if he had nothing on his mind nor a care for the world. I couldn't quite see his eyes and their beautiful glow escaped me. I wanted so desperately to find myself lost in them that I forgot about the fact that Marcus and I were the only two on shift, me being the only waitress in the establishment. Nate had to wave his hand in front of my face to bring me back to Earth and ask, "Aren't you going to take his order?"

I blinked, glancing at him and then back towards Professor Souza before snapping from my trance and muttering, "Oh. Yes. Right. That's my job."

Just as hesitant as I had been to approach his desk the day before, I left Nate's side- while his eyes remained on my back- and slinked up toward Professor Souza who was now skimming over the diner's menu previously placed at his spot.

When I got there, I took a deep and even breath to keep myself from stuttering and opened my mouth to greet him. However, without looking up at me, Professor Souza bluntly stated, "Black coffee, please. I'll need a second before I order something."

"I know you like apples," I blurted without quite thinking of exactly what it was I was getting at. Embarrassed, I rushed through the rest of what I was trying to say before he could question how I knew this minor, personal detail.

"May I suggest our apple pie? It's today's special."

Professor Souza glanced up at me then, his jade eyes penetrating mine from beneath his lashes in a smolder that took my breath away. For a brief second, his brows were bent questioningly before shooting up in recognition. He gave me his full attention then and I could see that faint smile touching his eyes like I had the day before.

"Chloe?"

"Um, yup. Nice to see you, Professor Souza."

"I wasn't aware that you worked here. I've never seen you on my regular visits."

"I only work weekends," I stated factually, that oddly comforting warmth filling me like before, rendering my previous anxiety obsolete.

"That explains it. I usually come during the week."

I nodded, wanting very much to continue talking, just so that I could resume listening to his rich voice. But I couldn't think of anything more to say. Aside from that, Nate's notable gaze on the two of us was making me feel uneasy and I was supposed to be working.

"So, you wanted a black coffee? I'll grab that for you while you go over the menu." I smiled and made to slip away before Professor Souza shook his head and handed me the menu.

"No need. I'll take the pie." He smirked nonchalantly and I couldn't fight the light blush from growing on my cheeks.

As I made my way over to the brewing coffee pots, dazed, Nate quietly asked, "Isn't it weird seeing your teachers outside of class?"

I shrugged. "Not really. They have lives too."

"Well, yeah, I know that. But the idea seems so alien, don't you think?"

I turned to face him at the counter and grabbed a piece of the pie I had just placed into the display case while giving Nate a perplexed look.

"You think Professor Souza is a Martian?"

"You know what I mean," Nate stated, annoyed.

I laughed in response, amused as he rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Come on, Nate. It's not weird. In fact, it's kind of nice to see them just like us."

Which was true. Seeing Professor Souza this way wasn't as intimidating as seeing him conducting his classes. He seemed less inanimate and more relatable in a casual setting, much like my discovery that he was quite approachable if he allowed it.

And I liked that a lot more than fawning over him while he lectured my ears off in class.

"Whatever," Nate muttered. I really never understood why Nate was so bitter towards our calculus Professor. But, I didn't really want to dwell on it because, I wasn't. And, currently, he was my customer and he was waiting.

Relaying this to my ginger friend, I left him again to tend to Professor Souza's order. He was still at the other end of the counter, only now he seemed to be reading over something on his smart phone.

"One black coffee and one piece of Michael's famous, apple pie." I said as I placed said items in front of him.

"Famous?" Professor Souza questioned. "I've been coming here for years and never even seen this on the menu."

"It's the Saturday special. Three dollars and fourteen cents a slice."

Professor Souza had been about to take bite when he froze, fork half lifted, eyes darting to meet mine in humorous disbelief. I blushed ferociously and gave a nervous laugh.

"You just-"

"-used a mathematical pi pun." I agreed before he could finish while dropping my head into my hands, abashed. "Yeah, that was dorky."

Oh God, just stop talking.

Professor Souza gave a short, amused laugh and, though I was about to die of embarrassment, I couldn't help but be thrown by the carefree, deep sound. Like it was vibrating from deep within his chest and bubbling up through his lips. I allowed myself to meet his eyes again, finding that he was giving me that very smirk that was slowly becoming something of a signature expression for him. Not quite a smile, but more than the scowl that I was used to.

"Just because I teach math, doesn't mean I like math puns." He chastised.

In response, I shrugged sheepishly and said, "Right. But I'm flunking math and I find them hilarious. Like, why is six afraid of seven?"

"Because seven eight nine." Professor Souza answered flatly, his left brow rising gingerly in a question of possibly my maturity. He may have told me that he thought I was his brightest student, but I had just provided evidence that I was anything but.

I laughed and gestured to the pie, noticing that, while we were conversing, he had already taken a couple bites.

"How's the pie?"

"Better than my sister's pie, that's for sure. I might have to start coming on Saturdays more often."

The idea sent the same gleeful eagerness through me as that of his proposition to spend Tuesday through Thursday evenings with him while I studied for upcoming math tests. It lead me to believe that I had been struck by some miracle dose of luck and had all these new opportunities to get to know more about my calculus Professor. For instance, just by speaking with him for a mere five minutes, I discovered that he had a sister. Something I hadn't been aware of before and something that fueled my desire to learn more.

I was ready to remark when I heard the chimes of the diner entrance bell and realized that my time with my extremely alluring and captivating math teacher was up. I wasn't so disappointed, though, knowing I always had the upcoming Tuesday study session to look forward to.

"I have to get back to work. I'll be back with your check in a bit." I smiled, hoping it was received as warmly as I had obtained his. He nodded and I turned to leave, but his call caught my attention and I turned back expectantly, catching the questioning and simply curious look on his face.

"Chloe, one question. How did you know that I liked apples?" He asked skeptically. I flushed and refused to meet his eyes as I answered, tucking a lose strand of my blonde hair behind my ear nervously.

"U-um, y-you always eat o-one before class s-starts." I stuttered, wincing at how childish and maybe even stalker-ish I sounded. "I keep getting m-mad at myself for forgetting mine w-when I see yours. You always have the g-green ones, which are my favorite."

"Green is a common theme with you, isn't it?"

"You said only one question, Professor-" I stated, for once throwing my own tease back at him. However, he interrupted me by shaking his head and standing from his stool at the breakfast counter. I noticed that, as he reached for his back pocket, his coffee was half empty and his pie was gone.

Smirk still in its place among his features, Professor Souza laid a ten dollar bill onto the counter and rumbled, "Keep the change. And, we're not in class, Chloe. My name is Derek."

Surprised, I barely registered his, See you in class or his departure as I waved dazedly back at him.

Derek.

I don't know how long I stood there, comatose, as I tossed his name over and over in my brain, searing it to memory, before Marcus called out for me to serve the forthcoming customers.

It was then that I remembered where I was and who was around me. Sure, I had been subconsciously aware, but I would be lying if I said I hadn't forgotten about Nate back on the other side of the breakfast bar, eyes hard as they followed Professor- Derek- Souza while said math teacher retreated out the front door and back out into the city.

Hell, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't forgotten that Nate was there altogether.