Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Notes: I'm not sure how long this will be, but I'm hoping to write a little bit of it per week and share that week's progress.


Chapter 1:

Rose shoved the graded exam into her school bag, not caring about crumpling it, before she slung her bag over her shoulder and half-ran out of the lecture hall. The circled red 47% on the exam was still burned into her eyes, making her chest constrict and her stomach bottom out.

47%. Failing. She'd just failed the first exam of the semester, just like she'd failed the first quiz of the semester.

Hot tears stung at her eyes and she blindly pushed past all of the students in the corridor until she reached the ladies' room. There were a few other people in the loo—upperclassmen, it looked like—and they all looked at her sympathetically before she entered one of the stalls and slammed the door shut.

Her head pounded with her anger and frustration. She'd tried so hard—so hard—and it still hadn't been enough. Chemistry simply did not make a lick of sense to her, and she hated herself for signing up for the stupid class in the first place.

But she needed a science credit, and she figured she would get it out of the way before she had progressed through her program and into the more difficult classes. After all, she'd thought, how difficult could a general chemistry class be?

Very, it turned out. She wished she could drop the class, but if she did, she no longer had enough credits to be considered a full-time student, and without that status, she would lose all of her financial aid. She couldn't stay at the university without her scholarships. And she was beyond the add/drop period, meaning she couldn't replace her general chemistry class with something else.

So, unless she wanted to completely drop out of school, she was stuck.

Unbidden, her ex-boyfriend's words cropped into her mind, telling her she never should have tried to go to uni in the first place. That she should have stuck to what she was good at (which wasn't school—hence her dropping out when she was seventeen) and not reached above her station. That she should have stayed with him, stayed working in that little London shop, stayed his. His trophy that he paraded around when it suited him, and leaving her alone in their tiny one-bedroom flat when it didn't.

She knew she was lucky to be shot of him—the lying, cheating bastard—but maybe she had reached too far. Been too lofty in her goals. Her mother had certainly thought so.

After Rose had moved back home with Jackie when her relationship with Jimmy had utterly imploded, she'd worked at the department store, Henrik's, for three years, saving up her money and finishing her A-levels. When she'd begun applying to universities, she'd applied to a few in the United States on a whim. Her childhood mate had moved there the year before when his job had relocated him, and he loved it.

Rose hadn't told her mother about the American schools she'd applied to, figuring nothing would come of it. But when she'd received not only an acceptance letter but a full academic scholarship to a school in southeastern Pennsylvania, she knew her decision had been made for her.

Jackie had not been as thrilled as Rose. Rose knew her mother wished she would just be happy with her job and settle down to start looking to make a family, but that wasn't what Rose wanted. Even though three years had passed since the Jimmy fiasco, Rose had sworn off relationships until she was happy with where her life was headed.

Rose mostly ignored her mother's diatribe about airs and graces and moving too far away and how Jackie wouldn't be there to bail her out again should everything fall apart. Instead, she'd mailed in her acceptance to the Pennsylvanian university, and had begun the preparations for moving across the Atlantic.

Now, though, as she stifled her sobs into the palms of her hands, Rose thought she may have made a huge mistake by going to a university in America. She hardly knew anybody, apart from the few acquaintances she'd made in her classes. She didn't live in the dormitories on campus, so she didn't even have the typical friendships that came with living in close proximity.

And if she failed out of university, not only would her student visa be revoked, but she wasn't currently able to afford a plane ticket back to the UK, and would be stuck in a foreign country until she saved up enough from her part-time job.

Though her mother frustrated her beyond belief, Rose found herself more homesick than she'd ever been before, and she wished she could teleport to her mum's flat and cry that she regretted leaving home.

She was about to prove everybody right that she wasn't cut out for a life of academia, just because she couldn't pass a bloody general science course.

Rose's eyes ached, but finally her tears stopped. She sniffed hard through her clogged nose and was glad that the girls in the loo had departed by the time Rose finally stepped out of the stall. She didn't need that added embarrassment to her already fragile state of mind.

Her face was a wreck, with her mascara bleeding down her red, blotchy cheeks. Rose turned on the faucet and washed her hands, then cupped cold water in her palms and splashed her face. The water stung her skin, but it made Rose feel a little more invigorated than before.

She spent the next several minutes scrubbing off her ruined makeup and giving her eyes a minute to look less red and puffy. Finally, when she was satisfied that it wasn't overly obvious she'd been crying for the past five minutes, Rose took a deep breath and stepped out of the loo.

Someone was standing just outside the door. A tall, lanky boy with a messy shock of brown hair was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom. He must be waiting for someone… but the loo had been empty, apart from her. Perhaps she should tell him?

She looked into his face, and furrowed her brow. It was the boy who sat in the row in front of her in her chemistry class.

"Er… hi," he said a little awkwardly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked up onto his toes, then back onto his heels. "I'm James. James Smith."

Rose's heart squeezed as she recognized his accent: soft Estuary. It reminded her so much of home that she had to clench her teeth to stop more tears from welling into her eyes.

"Hi," she said, her voice a little raspy. "I'm Rose Tyler."

His face lit up into the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. Sheer delight radiated out of every inch of his face, from the too-wide, too-white flash of teeth, to the way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. His eyes sparkled, looking so warm and inviting that Rose desperately wished she had her sketch pad with her. No matter. She tried to commit every shade of brown in his eyes to memory so she could try to draw it later that evening when she got back to her flat.

"You're a Londoner!" he crowed, beaming. Rose felt her own lips twitching in a responding smile as his voice went high and squeaky in excitement. "Oh, brilliant! I haven't met a Londoner yet! I met a woman from France in my French class—though that's cheating, in my opinion. Why can she take French for credit when she's literally French? And I've met loads of people from all over the United States, including someone from Alaska! But you're the first human I've met from the good ole UK! I love it!"

Rose's smile widened and became more genuine the longer James rambled. He made her feel as though they'd known each other for years and were best mates reconnecting after a time apart. The ache of sadness began to fade from her chest and belly, and she wished she could thank him, even if he didn't realize he'd done anything.

"Nice to meet you, Rose!" James yanked his right hand from his pocket and extended it towards her. Rose saw the red crease from where the top of his pocket had pressed into his skin.

"It's nice to meet you, too," she said, wishing she could tell him just how nice it was.

She reached out and took his offered hand. His palm was warm and soft against hers as she wrapped her hand around his.

"Ooh, your hands are cold," he said.

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could withdraw her hand from his grip, his other hand cupped hers, trapping it between his palms. He rubbed her hand vigorously, warming her skin. If it had been any other person, Rose would have been deeply uncomfortable. Hell, she probably should have been deeply uncomfortably anyway. But there was just… there was something about James. Something she couldn't put her finger on that made her feel so safe and at ease with him, despite having met him only two minutes ago.

"Can't neglect the other one."

Rose bit her lip against a laugh as James dropped her right hand to scoop up her left one. He warmed that one, too, then released it. Rose let it fall limply to her side, then looked up at James.

"If you're waiting for someone, I'm afraid the loo was empty 'cept for me," Rose said gently.

James furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. Then his eyes widened slightly and he said, "Oh! No, thanks, but I, er… I was actually waiting for you."

Rose raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly more suspicious of James than she'd been in the last few minutes. His cheeks went pink and he gave her a shy, sheepish smile as his hand went up to rake through his hair.

Well, at least that answered her question as to whether he'd intentionally styled his hair to look as though he just rolled out of bed. Or as though he'd just had the most fantastic snog of his life.

"Er, you see… I'm in your chemistry class. With Professor Young," he said. His hand moved from his hair to scratch at the back of his head, before he rubbed his fingers against the nape of his neck.

Bit twitchy, ain't he? He ought to lay off the caffeine, Rose thought to herself.

But instead, she said, "Yeah, I know. You sit in the row in front of me."

His face lit up in a surprised albeit pleased smile. It disappeared slowly until his face was serious again.

"I, er, I couldn't help but notice you seemed a little upset," he said quietly.

Rose pursed her lips, trying to push down her embarrassment. "I'm fine. Exam didn't go as well as I'd hoped, is all."

James nodded, a short jerky bob of his head, and seemed to be entranced with watching the toe of his trainer scuff against the shiny tile floor. It made a sharp squealing sound every time he kicked his foot; the noise grated against Rose's frayed nerves.

"Would you stop that?" she snapped. His body stiffened, and he planted his foot firmly on the floor. Rose sighed and pressed her fingertips into her closed eyes. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm not in the best mood right now."

"That's all right," he said immediately. They were silent for a few uncomfortable seconds in which Rose debated just running away from him when he asked, "Have you had breakfast?"

Rose snapped her gaze back up to his face. He didn't seem bothered by her rapid changes in mood, and he'd begun rocking on his feet again in lieu of scuffing his Chucks against the floor.

"Well, it's already ten," Rose said. James's cheeks went pink again, much to her amusement. She'd never seen someone blush so easily. "But no, I haven't."

James grinned. "C'mon! Let's go to the dining hall. It's pancake day and they stop serving breakfast at ten-thirty."

He held out his hand for her, wiggling his fingers in invitation, but his face looked solemn and vulnerable, as though he wasn't sure whether she would accept his invitation. Rose wondered what he would do or say if she declined, but a small voice in the back of her mind was confident he would let her go and leave her alone.

But she didn't want to be alone. Not when she finally seemed to make a new friend, one that could maybe relate to her homesickness, and one that made her feel as though everything would always be okay in the world.

"Yeah, all right," she said, and she slapped her palm down into his awaiting hand.

His eyes widened, as though he hadn't really expected her to agree, but his mouth slowly morphed into a wide, manic grin.

"Brilliant!"

He threaded their fingers together. The feel of his hand in hers felt so right, so perfect, and she gave his hand a squeeze of thanks. He giggled from high in his throat and returned the action before he guided her to the door.


I hope you enjoyed chapter one! I'd love to hear your thoughts!