He was tall and slender with fashionably-cut dark hair and the most incredible green eyes. Dressed in a crisp oxford shirt and perfectly-starched chinos, he was dressed rather formally for a tutor, but somehow managed to pull it off. Good looks, a sense of style and he taught history too? I wanted to marry this guy and have his babies and I didn't even know his name.
If this was a movie, there would be romantic music playing and sparks flying as the beautiful young protagonist and handsome hero made eye contact. After gazing into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity, the beautiful young protagonist would then charm the handsome hero with a dazzling smile and some witty banter.
Unfortunately this was real life and I was no romantic heroine. Instead, I swallowed and tried to speak, but to my horror, no words would come out. It felt as though a giant hunk of peanut butter was stuck to the roof of my mouth – everything was dry.
As I stared at Mr Unnamed Hottie, he was also looking me up and down, but his eyes were taking in my last-minute outfit with what looked like an expression of derision.
Please say something. Anything –just break this awkward silence.
He must have heard my silent plea.
"Miss Bennett, I presume," he said in a distinctly British accent. "How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence."
He looked pointedly at his watch. "Even though this tutorial is about to conclude for the day."
"I'm sorry," I finally managed to stammer. "I accidentally overslept and then I got lost on the way here..."
He interrupted me. "I'm not interested in hearing your excuses, Miss Bennett. If you can't find your way across campus, perhaps you should be taking a geography class instead of history."
I could feel my traitorous cheeks starting to burn with humiliation. Several of the other students tittered, although a few shot me glances of sympathy. I was fast re-evaluating my original opinion of Mr Unnamed Hottie. He might have been good-looking but that didn't give him the right to embarrass me.
Had he been cracking a joke, I would still have been embarrassed but I would have been OK with it. I'm usually the first person to poke fun at myself - when you're a born klutz, you quickly learn to laugh with others before they laugh at you. But there was no humour in his eyes and his sardonic tone made it clear that he was not joking.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, wishing the earth would open right then and swallow me up. "It won't happen again."
"It had better not," he said curtly. "But as you've missed most of the tutorial, Miss Bennett, I expect you to write a paper for me on today's subject. Perhaps that will remind you to come early and prepared next time."
"You can't do that!" I spluttered in disbelief. Sure, I'd had some strict professors before but this guy really took the cake! And he wasn't even the actual lecturer. Since when did tutors have the authority to assign extra papers that weren't in the curriculum?
"I'm afraid I can and I have," he answered coolly. "1,500 words and you'll need to hand it in at the next tutorial."
He glanced at his watch again. "That's all we have time for today," he said, addressing the rest of the group. "I shall see you all again at this time next week. If you have any questions in the meantime, please email me."
With those as his parting words, he gathered his books, packed them neatly into an expensive-looking Italian leather briefcase and strode out of the room.
I glared at him as he left. If my head hadn't been aching so badly, I would definitely have given him a piece of my mind. But right now, I had more important things to worry about...like rushing back to my room and doing research for my unexpected paper before meeting my sister Jenna in an hour and a half.
Two hours later, I was in Jenna's apartment, lazily stroking her tabby cat Cornelius and in a much better frame of mind. I'd managed to finish the additional texts for today's tutorial as well as the recommended reading and I was confident that I'd be able to write a decent amount of waffle in the next two days. Plus I was feeling a lot better – my hangover must have been wearing off, as the delicious smells wafting out of Jenna's kitchen were actually making me hungry.
Have I mentioned that Jenna is a fabulous cook? If it's not enough that she's stunning, studying to be a doctor and just plain nice, she's also a whiz in the kitchen. If I didn't love her so much, I'd hate her guts. Seriously.
With all she has to offer, you'd think guys would be lining outside Jenna's door, queuing for a date. But that's actually not the case – quite the opposite, in fact. It's my younger sister Lisa whom they queue up for and Lisa takes full advantage of this.
Jenna's always been rather shy and retiring but it's often and easily interpreted by others as a sense of superiority. She hardly goes on dates and has never even had a steady boyfriend, much to the chagrin of my social-climber mother, who's still living in hope that her beautiful eldest daughter will find true love with a royal...or at the very least, a millionaire's son.
"Here you go, Ellie," Jenna says with a smile, as she sets a heaped plate in front of me. I'm glad that I'm over feeling queasy because there is no way I'd be able to eat this otherwise.
I find myself digging into the spinach ravioli eagerly, surprised at how strong my hunger pangs seem to be. I manage to wolf down two helpings, some Caesar salad and even snag a few pieces of bruschetta before I realise that Jenna's barely touched her own food. Instead she's moving her salad around her plate with her fork.
I think of stories I've heard about anorexics who do this to distract from the fact that they're not eating and I frown. I can't stand the thought of Jenna succumbing to something like this.
When I'm not struggling with a hangover or speechless in front of a gorgeous guy, I'm actually an extremely vocal person. Blunt, even. There was no way that I was going to let Jenna leave the table without confronting her. In the nicest possible way, of course.
As Jenna stands up to clear our plates – mine empty and hers still quite full – I can't hold my questions in any longer. "Why aren't you eating?" I blurt. "Please don't tell me you're on a diet."
I don't say this part out loud but I'm certainly thinking it - if my tall, skinny, model-like sister is on a diet, the rest of us have no hope.
Jenna blushes. "I'm not on a diet," she insists and since she's a truthful person (which is sometimes a virtue and sometimes a curse), I believe her. But from the way she's acting, I can tell that she's hiding something and I wonder if her secret might even be worse than anorexia.
We share a carton of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey for dessert and I help her wash the dishes. I feel like I've crossed a line and invaded her privacy somehow and stick to small talk for the duration of our time together. I tell her about my hangover and what went down at my tutorial. She laughs at my descriptions of Mr Hottie, especially when I mimic his British accent and remarks - "How kind of us to grace us with your presence, Miss Bennett."
When it's time for me to leave, I thank her for the late lunch and give her a hug before heading out. I manage to walk out of her apartment building, but only a few seconds later, I find myself running back and pounding desperately on her door.
Jenna is alarmed when she opens the door and rightly so. I do look like a bit of a madwoman, although at least I've changed out of the horrible outfit I was wearing earlier.
I come straight to the point. I'm not a believer in beating around the bush.
"Jenna, I know you're hiding something," I say frankly. "And I'm not going to judge you on whatever it is – if you've decided to become a nun, if you're joining the circus, if you've made plans to have your body frozen...I don't care. I just want to know what's wrong and if there's any way that I can help."
The game is up and Jenna blushes again. With her fair complexion, there's no hiding the telltale flush that turns her cheeks a rosy pink.
"Alright," she says with a sigh. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything yet. I was going to wait a while before I told the family – you know how Mother gets."
Jenna then proceeds to tell me all about Charlie Bingsley.
Apparently Charlie is an exchange student from the UK, who came to Sydney Uni to complete his engineering degree. He and Jenna ran into each other on the first day of 'O-Week', struck up a conversation and basically hit it off. They had only known each other for a little over a week now, but had been seeing each other almost every day.
"He's so kind and sweet, Ellie," Jenna says earnestly, her face softening into a smile. "I really think that he might be...you know, the one."
I have to turn away, so that I can hide a smile of my own. Jenna has long cherished the idea that every person has a soulmate – someone who is destined for them by inevitable fate, someone who is their other half. This idea had gotten her through many years of being single and now it seemed as though she felt that Charlie Bingsley was the soulmate that fate had ordained for her.
I hadn't completely ruled out the possibility of a soulmate, but I hadn't seen any evidence to consider the idea as plausible, either. Peter was the closest thing I'd ever had to a soulmate and knowing the kind of person he was now, that scared me.
Shut up, Ellie and stop thinking about your past. This is all about Jenna, my conscience scolds me.
Something about the name Bingley sounds familiar and I strain to remember why. Suddenly it dawns upon me.
"Jenna, what does Charlie's father do? Do you know?"
Jenna shrugs. "I'm not sure, he hasn't talked about him much. Something in media, I think?"
I knew the name was familiar.
"Oh, my gosh! I don't believe it! Charlie's father is Everett Bingley of Bingley Corporation!"
"Say what now?" Jenna asks in confusion. For such a brainy person, she's surprisingly ignorant of the world around her. She rarely watches the news or reads the paper. I, on the other hand, am a news junkie.
I sigh in frustration. "Jenna, you must have heard of Bingley Corporation. They're one of the largest media conglomerates in the world."
Jenna still looks confused. Without asking, I immediately march to her room, open her laptop and do a quick Google search. Within seconds, I'm directed to Bingley Corp's Wiki page, which provides a detailed summary of the company's dealings and links to their official website. I triumphantly hand the laptop to Jenna.
Jenna scans the Wiki bio briefly and then takes a virtual tour of the Bingley Corp website. Her face pales as she finally realises just how much Everett Bingley – and therefore his only son Charlie – is worth.
"Oh, shit," she whispers softly, as she tears her eyes away from the screen. "Ellie, he's loaded. He can't be my soulmate after all. There's no way a guy like him can stay interested in someone like me."
I give her a comforting hug, wanting to disagree with her, but secretly thinking that she has a very valid point. Charlie Bingley can certainly afford to date anyone he wants to. As lovely as Jenna is, how could she possibly compete with all the other girls out there in Sydney...let alone the world? No, there was no way that their relationship could last.
And it was a shame. Mum would've been so pleased.
Author's Note: Hi everyone! A special thank you to those who read and reviewed the first chapter. I'm so glad to hear that you're enjoying the story. I'm having a lot of fun writing it. =)
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For me, the great thing about posting on FanFiction, as opposed to keeping my stories to myself, is being able to hear feedback from the readers and other writers. I think that's what all of us who are writing for this site are looking for.
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