Chapter 2- The Mysterious Alumnus
I crashed through Professor Taylor's office door head first.
"Professor… Taylor…" I panted, allowing myself to lean against the small table, which held a number of English text books, and catch my breath. I had sprinted all the way to the English building after my encounter with the angel, trying my best not to think of the humiliation, or the hostile glare he'd given me. "I'm so sorry… I'm… late… there… was an accident…"
Professor Taylor chuckled. "Don't be silly, Miss Swan" he said, moving around his small desk which sat to the left of his small office. "You're perfectly on time."
Confused, I glanced at the small white clock which hung behind the desk. It confirmed that I was over twenty minutes late, but I didn't argue, quickly looking back toward him as to not alert him to his error.
I removed my back pack, dropping it casually beside the chair which sat opposite the desk. When I looked up, Professor Taylor was merely inches away, appraising me thoughfully.
"You look tired, Miss Swan. Were you up all night?" he asked with curiosity, although I sensed something else in his voice, but put it down as purely concern.
I looked down, embarrassed. "Actually, no not really" I replied. "I was having a bit of a hard time writing the Romeo and Juliet paper you set last week. I'm not sure why but I just can't seem to tap myself into Juliet's mind."
"Oh don't worry, Miss Swan. Your work is consistently excellent; one little paper won't affect your grade. Besides, I wouldn't want those dark circles to become permanent on your pretty little face" stepping even closer as he said this.
I cleared my throat and took a step back, uncomfortable by his close proximity.
"No, it's alright, Professor Taylor. I'll have it done tonight."
Professor Taylor sighed, moving back around the desk to assume his position before I had walked in. "Miss Swan, how many times have I asked you to call me James? This is an informal job, and I am not your Professor here."
The discomfort of the conversation caused me to blush. "James," I repeated, "that hardly seems fair if you're going to insist on calling me Miss Swan. Bella, please."
James smiled, appearing please to have broken through some personal wall. "Alright, Bella" he replied, emphasising each syllable.
James Taylor had been my Professor since my very first semester at Brown. At first he'd been dismissive of me, ignoring me in lectures when my hand was raised and constantly marking my work as poor whenever I handed something in. Each paper I wrote, I tried harder and harder, never showing anyone how much stress I was under.
After he'd stated that one particular paper I'd written on The Merchant of Venice was "the ghastliest excuse for writing he had ever had the displeasure of marking," I'd decided that Brown was not the place for me. I'd spent the entire night packing all my belongings and preparing myself for the satisfaction on James' face when I would tell him that I was dropping out. It wasn't like me to give up without a fight, but the way things were going, it was likely that I would have been thrown out soon anyway.
Alice had caught me trying to sneak out in the early morning with my three suitcases. When she demanded that I unpack at once, I broke down and told her and Rosalie everything.
They listened, and when it was over, they offered their help. Alice had dressed me in a pretty ocean blue maxi skirt and a strapless white top, while Rosalie had done my makeup, using soft blue eyeliner to brighten up my chocolate brown eyes. Once they were done, they sent me tottering down to the James' office in the most ridiculous stilettos, and ordered me to flirt my way into asking for advice on how to improve my writing. Admittedly, I'd felt incredibly foolish playing the damsel in distress, twirling my hair and batting my eyelashes as I asked just where I was going wrong
It wasn't my proudest moment, but it certainly changed James' tune. Every paper I'd handed in since contained only positive feedback, with any criticism phrased constructively. In addition, he began offering me extra sessions, first beginning to improve my analysis, then, building upon my creative writing.
I'd liked to believe that after a while, James had stopped helping me because of the way I'd looked that night, and started to see real potential in my abilities. After all, I'd never made an effort to look like that again, and it seemed to me as though James and I had become almost friends since that encounter.
Not that James was so horrible or unattractive that I'd have been completely adverse to the idea of having him interested in me. In fact, most of the girls in my class would have done far more than dress up and flirt for a chance to be in my position. James was young compared to most professors at Brown, probably in his mid-thirties or early forties. He had long sandy hair which he always kept tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Though he wore a suit to work, his manner was casual, tending to take off his blazer, and roll up his sleeves as soon as he got the chance, which revealed his defined biceps. His top shirt buttons were left undone allowing a small amount of blonde chest hair to peek out. He had dark eyes which some would have described as powerful and alluring, but I just found predatory and frankly, quite creepy.
Still, I really did owe my creative writing skills and technique to his masterful guidance and tuition. Putting up with his strange antics was really nothing, after all, since when has an artist ever been normal?
I sat down across from James, in the wide chair which faced James' grand leather office chair.
"You need me to sort your marking today?" I asked, already leaning towards the stack of paper which sat in the middle of his desk. It was rare that I was actually ever needed for anything more than that.
"Actually no," he replied, "I have another job for you." I leaned back, surprised. "The university has an alumnus who is looking to make a rather generous donation to certain departments. Obviously, we're all fighting to get our hands on him, or rather his fortune" James chuckled. "Anyway, we're holding an evening in his honour next week where various departments will try to win him over. I was hoping you'd do the presentation in order to persuade him that his donation is most beneficial to us."
"Err James" I stuttered, already feeling the panic begin to take over, "you know I'm terrible at public speaking. You remember the last time, I fainted in the middle of my Gatsby presentation and that was only to a small number of people. I can't talk to a crowd with that riding on my shoulders too."
"Bella" James sighed. "I wish you would have some confidence in yourself. When you speak about literature, it's hard to miss the sheer passion in your voice. I need something like that to show that this department means a lot to its students. We don't rely on research or discoveries to bring us interest, we need to show that what we do here is just as worthwhile as what any biologist or chemist does. And I think you're our best bet."
I looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Mike can do it. He's crazy about your class; he never shuts up about your assignments. I'm sure he'd love the chance to talk about it to your alumnus."
James let out a sly chuckle. "Newton?" he asked incredulously. "Newton hasn't read a single one of the assigned books since the first semester; I doubt he even owns a single Shakespeare script. I think you're mistaking his obsession with literature for his obsession with you."
I raised my eyebrows. Though I didn't want to admit it, James wasn't wrong. Mike seemed annoyingly attached to me since the beginning of our time at Brown. We'd met on my first day as we'd shared James as our English professor. Mike would dutifully sit with me in class, and make sure I was never alone for lunch. At first it was nice to be making new friends, but it didn't take long for him to get on my nerves. After the first week he began to appear at my apartment every morning in order to walk me to lectures. It was only when Rosalie had intimidated him into almost crying that he'd backed off a little. But whenever there was no chance of Rose being around, Mike would make sure he was with me.
When he'd heard of my extra credit job with James, Mike had spent hours first begging James to give him a job too, then asking me to beg on his behalf so that we could hang out all the time. I'd been so relieved when James had threatened to cut Mike's already low credit in half if he didn't quit pestering us both. Mike had backed off about the job after that, but it didn't stop him from trying to catch me after work.
Looking up at James I sighed in defeat, "Oh alright, I'll do it." I knew I was going to regret this, and even worse, James would regret letting me do this. A lot was riding on me staying up right for the duration of the presentation, something I definitely could not guarantee.
James grinned. "Great" he said, standing up from behind his desk. "Let's get to work!"
He walked back around the desk and picked up the other chair beside me easily, lifting it above his head as he moved it over to his side of the desk. He placed it beside his own sleek leather chair then held out the back, waiting for me to take my place there. I smiled slightly at his old fashioned chivalry, a feature he knew I loved from the many time times I'd written that exact gesture into my own literature.
He took his place beside me in his own chair then turned to his desktop, pulling up a PowerPoint presentation with various notes about the English department. We worked for a few hours, trying to elicit the department's best features, while illustrating the features that needed improving as far more important than that of any other department. When it came to the closing words of the presentation, James decided we'd done enough.
"Shouldn't I write something?" I asked.
"No. I think this is something that needs to come directly from you Bella. Don't plan it. Just speak exactly how you feel. That's the only way we can possibly show them that this means far more than anything else. The other departments won't have anything like that."
I nodded, understanding what he meant. There was nothing more powerful than a moment of spontaneous emotion translated into speech; it was almost always the premise on which I wrote my stories.
I stood up, packing the loose notes from today's session into my backpack.
"So, who's this mysterious alumnus anyway?" I asked absently.
"His name's Edward Cullen" James replied, a hint of mockery in his tone. "He was a student here only four years ago, on early admission, of course. I think he studied something like economics or whatever, although he seemed to have an innate talent in every subject. Anyway, not long after he graduated, he inherited a big successful business from a deceased uncle or something, along with a rather sizable fortune."
I zipped up the bag, curious about James' bitter tone. "Did you meet him while he was here?"
"A couple of times, only briefly. Guy seemed to prefer his own company more than anything else. Didn't stop every woman within a five mile radius from fawning at his feet though." James shook his head, partly in amusement, party in annoyance.
"Oh" was all I could say after that.
As I was leaving, James called after me. "Oh, Bella?"
"Yes?" I replied, leaning partially back in through the doorway.
"Perhaps you might consider wearing that little blue ensemble you wore two years ago to the presentation evening" he said, winking slyly.
I blushed furiously, once again cursing Alice and Rose for the embarrassment that would most likely haunt me until I graduated. I waved once before rushing away from the office, hoping to avoid any further humiliation.
My hopes were quickly dashed when I saw who was waiting for me outside the English building.
"Bella!"
I cringed inwardly as Mike Newton sauntered over from the wooden bench he'd been leaning on, fixing the spikes in his carefully gelled, pale blonde hair. His round baby-face held an impish grin, clearly pleased that he'd waited however long he had for me to leave James' office.
"Hey Mike!" I called brightly. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I just came to see Professor T about the Shakespeare paper we were meant to write. That's due tomorrow, right?" he asked with false curiosity.
"Today" I murmured, hoping he wouldn't ask about mine.
"Really? Oh crap!" his grin didn't falter, despite the nature of his words. "Hey, you don't mind if I look at yours to help me along, I'm a bit stumped at the moment."
Damnit.
"Actually, I haven't done it either. I've had a lot going on so…"
"Oh phew, at least I'm not the only one. I really don't get Romeo and Juliet, I mean, nothing they say ever makes sense, and since when was there a potion that could make you look dead. If it exists, why isn't it like the world's greatest prank, y'know?"
I rolled my eyes, fearing that if I spoke I wouldn't be able to stop myself from hurting Mike's feelings. Instead, I decided to continue walking back to my apartment, hoping that Mike would leave me alone.
He didn't. Instead he fell into step beside me.
"I thought you were going to see Professor Taylor?" I asked.
"Nah, I think I'm ok. I'd much rather walk you home" I said, winking in an obvious fashion.
I didn't object, after all, if I ran into that angel, I might need someone to keep me from falling flat on my face again. We continued on our walk across the large university campus, crossing the beautifully well-kept quad. I kept my eyes peeled but couldn't spot him anywhere. Part of me felt overwhelming relief over the fact that I wouldn't have to endure that kind of humiliation again, but another part of me felt a huge amount of disappointment. I'd been working up to seeing those stunning green eyes again since the second I looked away from them.
Mike continued to chat about nonsense, beginning with how much of an ass James was because he'd failed him on some paper, then, moving onto the new football season at Brown. I made an effort to appear mildly interested but made no attempt to backchannel his conversation.
When we reached my apartment, I turned to thank Mike and say goodbye. He looked as if he had other plans in mind.
"Hey, since we haven't done that paper, maybe we could sit down together and work on it. Y'know, so Professor T doesn't fail us both!" he said hopefully.
I bit my lip. "Actually, Mike, I have a lot of work to do. Professor Taylor wants me to speak at a presentation evening next week and I need to prep myself. I'm not great with public speaking, as you know."
"Oh!" Mike appeared to brighten even more. "Maybe I could help you. I used to give speeches at my high school assemblies all the time. My mom always said I have pure charisma that can win over any crowd" he stated proudly.
I choked back the laughter that threatened to escape from me. I couldn't believe Mrs Newton was really that clueless. Mike couldn't even charm a dog into eating a juicy steak. I thought of the only way which was sure to get rid of Mike.
"Erm, well sure. But I think Rosalie is home so if you'd be willing to hang with her…" That got him.
"She is?" he gulped, clearly terrified. I allowed myself a little smug smile, knowing my plan was working. "Well, ok um. Actually, I think I need to see Professor T after all. I need to write this paper or he'll fail me. I'm really sorry, Bella!" he was already backing away, getting ready to leg it. "I'd love to help another time… when you have the place to yourself. Give me a call, I can… bring some of my old speeches" he turned and walked faster than I'd ever seen a normal human being walk.
"Bye Mike!" I called after him, grinning widely to myself.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it open, but was met with resistance. I peeked through the tiny opening between the frame and the door, and saw that the room was flooded with boxes of clothes.
"Alice?!" I yelled.
I'm quite enjoying this actually. There's so many ways this story could go, all the prospects in my head are starting to get interesting. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'll aim to have another up next week :). Thanks for reading.
