Chapter 1
Emma's POV
"Ok Swan last class of the day. You've got this."
Making my way through the crowed sidewalks reminds me of being in high school, except maybe a little more terrifying. My last class today is English, and the professor sounds like a real piece of work. Snobby. That's the first word I thoughts of when I read the email she sent out before the semester started.
"Be prepared. Be on time," blah blah blah. C'mon lady, lighten up. We're freshmen.
Finally, I make it to class with about 5 minutes to spare. Instead of individual desks or lecture hall like I expected a supposed "fairly large" class to be, there were three rows of six tables, with two chairs per table. I chose the middle desk in the middle row. Sit too close she's got a reason to pick on me, sit too far away and she's got an even better reason to pick on me. Whoever "she" is. I go and check my schedule for a name, but before I can unlock my phone, the door swings open and she walks in. I don't know her, but I know it's her. There's something about the way she walks, the tilt of her chin… snobby? Definitely. The snobby I expected. But attractive? Definitely didn't expect that. And hot damn. Her hair is pulled back sharply at the nape of her neck and shes wearing a plan brown shirt and slacks. I have no idea how she manages to make that so attractive, but I can't help but stare as she lifts her sunglasses on top of her head. I am slack jawed.
Shit, Swan. You are in deep, deep shit. I slink down in my seat and try not to make eye contact. I can feel the blush rising from my neck to my cheeks and I know my pale skin is giving it all away. Please just don't look at me, just don't fucking look at me.
"Good afternoon, everyone. We're going to go ahead and get started," she's firing up her laptop and turning on the projector as she's speaking. She seems like shes been doing this for a while, but my got she looks so young.
"Let's go around the room and introduce yourselves. Tell everyone your name, your major, and your favorite… something. It doesn't matter what. I don't care. Book, tv show, video game, hobby… just pick something." I smile a little. The boy sitting directly in front of her begins, and we continue on like that. I find myself staring at her, watching her expressions, her posture, appraising her in every way. Im so busy analyzing her, I nearly missed the fact that the girl sitting a whole desk away from me has just finished and now everyone is looking at me. I am generally confident to the point of a cocky person, but something about her eyes on me makes me feel like a puddle of jello. I stand shakily and face her directly, supremely glad I decided to dress a little nicer for the first day of class.
"Hi. My name is Emma Swan, Im a photography major, and my favorite hobby would have to be taking pictures," I go and sit down and then tack on, "Especially portraits" as an afterthought. She looks surprised for a moment, checks off my name on her roster, and then her gaze averts to the boy next to me. I'm offended but not surprised. When the last person is done, an obnoxious boy sitting in the seat as far back as possible, she looks up from her roster and pauses for a moment before speaking.
"Okay, that was great. Since I has you all introduce yourselves, I will do the same. My name is professor Mills. I was and English major in college, with a minor in education, and like im sure you've all assumed, my favorite hobby is reading."
That elicited a few giggles, myself included, and she looked quite proud of herself; a small smile curling her lips, a faint blush on her cheeks, and a little spark in her eye giving it away. I was already smitten.
She opens the syllabus up on her computer and to me utter dismay, proceeds to read every line of all 19 pages. She looks completely serious when she tells us every absence is 10% of our final grade and I am falling out of my chain in disbelief. Who even does that? 3 late arrivals counts as an absence. Why?
No longer able to focus on the words coming out of her mouth, I let my eyes wander again. I know she catches me staring once or twice, but I am far too embarrassed to wink or even smirk. Badass Emma Swan has been turned to a puddle of jello by a gorgeous, stuck up English professor. Damn.
By the time she dismisses us with an, "okay, that's it," Im darting from the room. Jogging down the stairs and out the door. I take a deep breath of fresh air; this is the first breath I've taken in almost two hours. It clears my head enough to remind me that she is my professor and I don't have a shot. I could handle being smitten.
"Its only a few months." I mutter to myself as I make my way back to my dorm room.
Regina's POV
Day 1 is over. Congratulations professor Mills. I smile slightly to myself as I make my way to my car. It has been a long day of saying the same things to far too many students. And of course there was that blonde… that Swan girl. Nobody has ever stared at me like that. Shaking my head I brush it off as if it was nothing.
By the time I get to the school, I know I'm late picking up my son. Henry iis one of the last kids left at the parent pick up. He wants to walk home by himself, he is ten after all, and I think soon I will cave. His little face lights up when he sees my car pulling up and he eagerly climbs into the back seat. I turn and kiss his cheek, grateful when he doesn't fuss.
"Hi mom!" his beaming face in the rearview mirror warms my heart.
"Hi baby, how was your day?" and that is all he needs, as he launches into a detailed description of everything that has happened today.
He has only gotten to talking about recess with his friends when we arrive home. Without hesitation, and in the middle of a story, he runs upstairs to change.
"Henry!" I call after him "Please shower and wash up! Im going to start dinner!" and I hear a faint, "okay mom!" from upstairs.
Shaking my head, I slip my shoes off in the foyer, placing them neatly on the mat next to the door, and pad into the kitchen. I promised Henry I would let him have chicken nuggets tonight if he promised to eat some broccoli too.
As I put his nuggets into the oven, I hear the shower turn on upstairs and I sigh with relief. It used to be such a hassle getting him to shower, and it use to make me wish his father was still in the picture. Of course, that was only a fleeting thought. I poured myself a glass of wine, the fleeting thought still stuck in my brain. I wondered where he was.
I must have been sitting for a while because before I knew it, Henry came running into the kitchen ready for dinner and the oven began to beep.
"Mom, can I have a sleepover at Gracie's house this weekend? Pleeeeease?
His puppy dog face kills me, but I hand him his plate saying, "I will call and speak to her father and we'll see. Okay?" he nods his head, knowing not to argue with me. I sit him at the table as he yammers away about his teacher, Mrs. Blanchard, and how nice she is. Everybody knows Mary Margaret Blanchard. Shes like the Snow White of Maine.
Henry inhales his food, as usual.
"Can we play video games tonight?" he asks when he's done eating. I smile at his request.
"Sure. Why don't you go set up while I finish eating, and then you can help me with the dishes before bed? What do you think?" he nods enthusiastically, always a good boy when it comes to compromise, and goes to put his plate in the sink before washing his hands and then darting out of the room. I quickly finish eating, depositing my own plate into the sink, and then head into the living room.
When Henry was little, he used to sit in my lap when he played his little boy games, but now he's all grown up, he asks me to play sometimes and we sit at opposite ends of the sofa.
"Okay little boy, you ready?" I affectionately ruffle his hair before taking my seat.
"The real question is if you're ready?" he smirks at me, the same way his father used to, and hands me a controller.
Forty-five minutes later and I have allowed Henry to kick my ass. He grinds widely, double fist pumping, and then tackles me against the sofa. Im surprised by his affection, but it turns out he's just in the mood for a tickle war. I quickly stand from the couch, scooping him up just barely and hoisting him over my shoulder. He kicks and screams and giggles all the way up the stairs. I deposit him in my head, kicking and thrashing, and tickle him mercilessly until he caves, both of us gasping for air.
"Ready for story time?" I ask
"Okay!" he goes to my bookshelf and picks a book.
For the last two years, I have had Henry read to me every night. He can pick a different book every night if he wants, but they're all chapter books, and he has to read me at least one chapter every evening. It helps him in school; and keeps me involved in how quickly he is learning to read. Tonight, he picked a book from the Magic Tree House section. Those have always been my favorites.
Over an hour has passed by the time Henry has decided he is done reading tonight. It's already 7 p.m.
"Wanna come help me with dishes?"
"Sure!"
As we walk down the stairs, there is a knock on the door.
"Are we expecting someone, mom?"
"No honey. Go in the kitchen and clean your plate while I answer the door." He nods and runs into the kitchen, eager to be allowed some extra video game time before bed, Im sure.
Looking through the peephole, I see my best friend Katherine on the other side of the door. Laughing, I swing it open.
"Gina!"
"What are you going here Kat? I didn't you will be back from your trip till tomorrow! How did you get here from the airport?"
Shes laughing as she walks in, giving me a hug like only Katherine can.
"You know they make these things called taxi cabs? The little yellow cars? People can ride in those."
"Aunt Katherine!" Henry comes racing in, throwing his arms around Katherine. She swings him around and then releases him, ruffling his hair.
"C'mon in Kat. Can I get you a drink?"
"No thank you. Im gonna walk home. Just wanted to stop by and see my best friend and her adorable little son." Henry giggles.
"You sure?"
"Positive. We'll get together later this week and catch up. Say… Friday?"
"Sounds perfect."
We all say goodbye and Katherine walks down the front steps and out the gate. She lives two blocks away and sometimes it feels like she actually lives here.
"Did you wash your plate young man?" I ask Henry as he begins to walk up the stairs.
"Yes mom."
"Good boy. I expect you washed up and in bed by 9. Understood? I'll come in to tuck you in."
"Thanks mom!" and he is off, sprinting up the stairs. Soon he will be in college and it'll just be me. I can't bear the thought.