"Well, that's all we have time for at the moment, I'm afraid" Frank Alexander concluded his lecture nervously. "If you have any questions, I'll be staying here for a bit" he added uselessly, watching the girls in the lecture hall began to leave. Most of them bolted for the door right away, and one or two had to be awakened by their friends. Frank knew it had been an unmitigated disaster. He was a dreadful public speaker to begin with, constantly betraying his anxiety by speaking too quickly and laughing awkwardly, and he had forgotten how intimidating the gaze of University girls could be. The professor who had arranged for this humiliation congratulated him halfheartedly and went on to say how much he had enjoyed Frank's early work. Frank mentally urged him on because first of all, he wanted to get to the station, see if he could get an earlier train, go home, and forget the whole ordeal, and secondly, he knew he had to talk to the redhead in the front row, who was taking a suspiciously long time to leave. She'd been one of a very few girls who paid attention during the lecture, and she'd actually seemed to enjoy it. He'd grown rather uncomfortable (and even lost his train of thought once) under her intense, worshipful stare, but knew he owed at least a "thank you" to her.
Finally, Professor Erin finished another interminable sentence and, much to Frank's further embarrassment, tinged with a small hint of delight at not having to initiate conversation himself, called the girl over.
"Mr. Alexander, this is Charlotte Quinn. She wrote her term paper on you"
"Did you?" Frank asked, idiotically, still shaken from his perceived embarrassment.
Charlotte nodded. "It was about how you view the fundamental human soul, but I'm just sorry I wrote it before that last book came out, because that one obviously would have been very relevant to the topic".
"Good Lord, you actually read The Autonomous Rider? I don't even think my publisher read that one."
"Really? I thought it was fantastic. I mean, the way you expanded on all your ideas while putting fourth all these new theories was just fantastic, I thought."
Charlotte tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, visibly flustered. She was actually talking to Frank Alexander. She couldn't believe her luck at getting to see him lecture, and for weeks before had been terrified that something would put it in jeopardy; that she'd get sick, that she'd have to come home, that he would cancel, that she'd die. It wasn't until he started talking that she felt secure in the knowledge that she would actually get to hear Frank Alexander speak in person. The lecture was even better than she thought it would be. His speech was very human; he grew flustered, took sips of water whenever he got off track with what he was trying to say, and spoke far too quickly. She was sure, however, that she could listen to him talk for hours and never get tired. He was so extraordinarily intelligent, and so charmingly pretentious that she found it impossible not to like him as well as respect his work.
"Well, I'm very, I mean, really very pleased you thought so."
"Frank, you haven't seen the campus before, have you?" Professor Erin cut in. "because I'm sure Miss Quinn would be more than happy to give you a tour, if you're interested."
"Well, that would be marvelous" Frank said after seeing Charlotte nod eagerly. "My train doesn't leave until six, and I have nothing to do in the meantime."
"Alright" Charlotte said, reveling in her luck, and led him outside.
She got more relaxed as she showed him around the campus, slowly growing comfortable enough to tell him personal anecdotes relating to each building or dorm, and showing him the staircase where she tripped and broke her nose.
"Well, it's mended very nicely" he informed her.
"You can still see it's crooked, though. It healed weirdly, but I didn't want to get surgery. See?" she ran her finger down the delicate ridge "it's all bent right here"
The imperfection was fairly obvious, but Frank wasn't about to admit it. He took a small step towards her and gently tilted her chin upwards. She giggled with a mixture of embarrassment and of pleasure in the knowledge that her favorite modern philosopher was taking time out of his life to look at her face.
As Frank "scrutinized" her nose, he studied her other facial features. She wore very little make-up, just enough to lighten the still-visible acne scars. Her eyebrows were unruly, her mouth was too wide, and the crookedness of her nose was quite visible. She was still very-
For God's sake, I could be her father
"Well, I suppose it's slightly visible, if you look at it from the proper angle." He quickly released her chin and she led him to the final few sites; English classrooms, orchestra room, and, of course, the spot where Sarah Abrams stole her bicycle.
"You know, Miss Quinn, I haven't eaten since about four-thirty this morning" he told her when they reached the far end of the campus and didn't quite want to (let alone know how) to say goodbye "where would you recommend I have lunch?"
"There's a sandwich place a little ways down the road, that's probably where I'm going to go. And there's also a deli a bit farther away, which is very" don't say "nice". You're talking to Frank Alexander, so don't say "nice". There must be hundreds of other words to choose from, and you will not say "nice" "…nice as well" Goddamn it.
"Well, if you don't have any other plans, I'd enjoy going with you very much"
She led him to the small restaurant and sat at a booth in the back. They found themselves able to talk to each other with an extraordinary ease. Though all her passions were intellectual, she was by no means jaded. She could talk as eagerly and enthusiastically about Shakespeare's distortion of the pastoral tradition as other girls could talk about whatever drivel they were watching on television. She was even marvelous at listening; she was focused and responded to what he said. After nearly two hours, he had to leave for the station. As he was preparing to go, he hastily wrote his address on a napkin and gave it to her, explaining that he didn't have a telephone, but that she should send him her term paper. Frank hailed a taxi and after a rather awkward goodbye, in which neither of them knew whether to hug or shake hands (they ended up sticking to the latter), he was gone.
AN: I know the first chapter seems a little rushed, but I didn't want to create any false suspense about whether or not they'll meet and be interested in each other. I obviously don't own anything.