With heartfelt thanks to my talented pre-reader, ladylibre, whose insights and commentary help me to shape this story, chapter by chapter. If you aren't reading her incredible "A Love Worth Defending," go read it! You heard me…go! :)

Chapter 9

I was not surprised to be met at the front door by an incensed pixie. Despite my attempts to ignore her as I dragged myself upstairs to put my bookbag away, Alice remained a mere step behind me, following me into my room.

"Okay, let's hear it," I said wearily as I set down my bookbag, took off my jacket, and plopped onto my bed to remove my boots.

"Why didn't you listen?" Alice wailed. "I told you—and Peter told you—not to have anything to do with James!" Her angry expression melted suddenly, a profound sadness taking its place. "Bella, you need to listen to me on this one. Please."

Surprised by her sudden mood swing, I looked up at her as I pulled on my comfy sheepskin slippers. "What are you 'seeing,' Alice?" I asked, puzzled.

Plopping down on the bed beside me, she sighed. "I'm not 'seeing' anything specific; I just get this strong feeling of dread whenever I think of you working with him." She frowned in concentration before continuing. "But the problem is…now that you've met with him, I also get an almost equally strong feeling of dread if you turn down his offer."

"Wow," I breathed. "Talk about a no-win situation."

"Yeah," she sighed again. "Your meeting with him this afternoon really messed up the situation. I'm not sure that there's a way out of it now. It's kind of a 'damned if you do; damned if you don't' thing now."

I laughed, but it sounded forced and awkward even to me. "I hope you don't mean 'damned' literally, Alice."

She narrowed her eyes, obviously not amused. "I'm not joking, Bella. You've really complicated the situation here. If only you had walked away…."

I snorted. "It's kind of difficult to walk away when the guy was leaning up against my car, waiting for me in the parking lot."

Alice's eyes grew huge. "No way!"

"Yes, way…unfortunately. I guess you didn't 'see' that part." She shook her head, and I continued. "He wanted me to go back to his office, but I made him stick with our agreed-on meeting place, Starbucks. In public."

"Good girl."

Exhausted after the events of the afternoon, I leaned my head on my hand. "Alice, the thing is, it's a really amazing opportunity, especially if I want to go to graduate school. To be published in such a major journal—it's a really tempting offer. And I have a feeling that I could ask for a stipend, too. Some money would really help, you know."

"I know, Bella. And it sounds like a wonderful chance for you. But it's weird, too. Before you and James met, I was getting only negative feelings—extremely negative feelings—about you working with him. And now after the meeting—and the longer it's been since the meeting—I'm getting more mixed feelings. Kind of like something positive could come out of it, but it's also going to be a difficult and challenging time for you—and for him as well." She paused, looking at me with a confused expression. "It's almost like you somehow caused a major shift in his mind."

"That's weird," I shrugged. "But enough about James—I need to get dinner going."

-0-0-0-0-0-

While I made dinner and as I washed the dishes, I continued mulling over the pros and cons of helping James with this project.

As I scrubbed a large pot, I kept thinking back to James' attitude. He started off cocky and annoying—flirtatious as usual. But as our meeting progressed, I had the strangest feeling that I had hurt his feelings, somehow—that he was truly vulnerable.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that I had glimpsed a side of James this afternoon that few others had seen. And after receiving that insight, I felt that somehow I could trust him…at least enough to work together on the project.

And I definitely had some follow-up questions for him, such as: What did he want me to do, exactly? Would I be interviewing students who hated economics? And how many hours a week would we be dedicating to the project?

Plus, I really needed to get a job, something that, due to all the drama of living with Jessica and then moving here, I had put off. If a stipend were included with the project—enough money to see me through the holidays—accepting James' proposal to work together could be a Godsend.

As I finished drying the dishes and wiping down the kitchen counters, Rose and Emmett took off for their Friday night date—obviously a tradition with them. I was glad that they were getting out for at least one evening of fun a week because those two seriously studied way too hard. Once again I was thankful not to be a pre-med student; their workload was far too strenuous.

Once the kitchen was tidy, I poured a glass of Pinot Noir and, noting the coolness of the evening, settled in front of the fireplace in which Jasper had built a lovely blaze before dinner. But the embers were now dying, so I stirred them up and added a couple more logs to the fire which caught quickly. I settled into a corner of the leather sofa and tucked an afghan around me, content to relax a little, enjoy the warmth of the fire, and sip my wine.

Just as I started becoming so relaxed that I was in danger of nodding off, Jasper and Alice came downstairs, dressed for a party. Although Alice pressed me to come with them, I demurred. A quiet evening at home was just what I needed after a stressful week, and Jasper graciously swept a still-protesting Alice out the door with him, winking significantly at me as he shut the front door behind them.

Except for the crackling of the fire and the occasional whoosh of the wind around the eaves, the house was perfectly quiet, and I reveled in the unaccustomed peace. Finishing my wine, I got up, took a copy of A Tale of Two Cities from the bookcase, refilled my wine glass, and added one more log to the fire before curling back into my comfy corner.

Contently I opened the book and started re-reading my favorite Dickens novel: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…" began the tale of the French Revolution and the love of two men for the same woman. The story was rich and tragic, perfect for reading on a quiet autumn evening.

But after the stress of the past week, the effects of the red wine, combined with the warmth of the fire and the soporific words of Dickens, lulled me into a doze.

Immediately I fell into a bizarrely familiar dream. Once again I was not myself but someone else…someone tall, slim, and strong. And once again I approached a sleeping girl, but this time she was curled up on a sofa. Yet this girl was wonderfully familiar; she had the same tousled brown curls, the same porcelain skin dotted with a few freckles across her nose as the one I have been watching since her arrival. I felt such tenderness toward this girl…as if I would protect her at all costs, no matter what the future may hold for us both.

Silently I moved to her side as she slept on the leather sofa before the fire, an open book in her lap and a wine glass tipping precariously in her hand, threatening to spill the last inch of red liquid across the afghan she had spread over her lap. I reached forward slowly, afraid to waken my slumbering angel, and gently removed the stem of the glass from her loose grasp, setting it on the end table beside her.

As I straightened, I noticed a very familiar object catch the firelight as her deep blue sweater rose and fell with each breath: my mother's locket.

Much of my existence was confusing—living outside of time and space was disconcerting to say the least—and memories of my earthly life mingled with glimpses of the different people who had lived in my house over the decades or however long it has been since the epidemic. But somehow my experiences with this girl were so much sharper than anything else from my past, and I recalled recently bringing the locket downstairs and placing it in her room, hoping against hope that she would wear it.

And she had indeed.

An unexpected thrill had shot through me as she had clasped the delicate chain around her neck, the heart-shaped locket glowing in the morning sun against the blue of her sweater—the same sweater she wore now. So I suppose that I had given her the locket just this morning. Time moved in strange fits and starts, and I was never sure of the passage of hours, days, months, years.

Yet I was certain of this one thing: I couldn't remember ever being so happy—either before or after my transition to eternity. In fact, when she had donned the locket, I simply couldn't resist caressing her smiling face gently with the back of my index finger. Her expression of wonder had assured me that she had felt my touch, and her whispered, "Thank you" had brought me to an even higher state of joyfulness.

Despite all that separated us, we possessed a compelling soul-to-soul connection that overcame space, time…and even death.

At this moment, hope, happiness, and a complete sense of contentment filled me. As I gazed longingly at this lovely girl, I felt almost hypnotized by her beauty and her kind and gentle spirit. She was a good person: unselfish, honest, and generous. I had always been able to discern the temperament—and sometimes nearly the private thoughts—of people with whom I came into contact. I could sense when someone was evil or greedy as well as when someone loved others deeply and truly. My mother had been perceptive about people as well, so at least someone in my family understood the significance of having such personal insights into others' minds and souls—and the repercussions that accompanied this level of astuteness. Such acute sensitivity to the vagaries of human nature has been both burden and blessing.

And this girl—she was good and pure—and somewhat insightful herself. I knew that we would understand each other well…if we were able to get to know one another.

And that decision would be up to her.

I was unsure how long I watched her sleep, for time had little meaning to me at the best of times, and it possessed even less significance when I was wrapped in the blissful cocoon of her presence. At one point I peered at the book in her lap, smiling at her choice of Dickens, a favorite of mine as well.

The metallic closing of car doors in the driveway reminded me that I could not remain here all night—not that anyone but this girl and her tiny, dark-haired friend could apparently sense me in my present state. The murmur of voices outside prompted me to lean forward and press my cold lips to my angel's warm forehead—my living angel, one so precious to me already. Before the front door opened, I had retreated to the attic where I could listen to my angel…and later watch over her as she slept in my bedroom.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be protecting her from; I only knew that she needed me, and I definitely needed her…wanted her…and loved her….

-0-0-0-0-0-

The slamming of the front door and the echo of Rose's laughter startled me out of my dream, and, immediately myself once again, I sat up abruptly, my copy of Dickens tumbling to the floor.

"Oh, we're sorry, Bella. We didn't mean to wake you," Rose apologized as she and Emmett entered the living room.

"No, that's okay," I answered thickly, rubbing my eyes. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"Not going out tonight, eh, Bella?" Emmett asked, grinning at me as he plopped into the opposite corner of the sofa.

"Nope," I yawned, stretching.

"I'm going to change out of these heels; I'll be down in a minute," Rose promised. "Maybe we can watch a DVD together."

"Sure," I agreed, smiling.

As Rose went upstairs, I closed my book and set it next to my wine glass on the end table.

Wait a minute….

In my dream, I had been someone else who picked up the wine glass before the girl—who was obviously me—spilled it. An inch of Pinot Noir remained in the glass, just as my dream had shown.

"Bella? You okay?" Emmett asked.

I tried to focus on his words while my mind spiraled, trying to figure out what had occurred while I slept.

"Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?"

"You went completely pale…like you had seen a ghost."

At the word "ghost," I literally jumped, feeling my eyes widening with fear as I stared at Emmett.

"Bella? Bella, you're scaring me, girl! What's going on?" Emmett was kneeling in front of me, and I didn't remember him moving from the far corner of the sofa. "Bella? Answer me!" His tone was urgent.

As I opened my mouth to reply—although I had no idea what to say—Rose came down the stairs dressed in sweats and thick woolen socks. "What's wrong?" she asked, seeing Emmett kneeling in front of me, both of my hands wrapped in his huge ones.

I shook my head, trying to regain some semblance of coherency as my head spun sickeningly.

Thankfully Emmett answered Rose for me, "She just went white as a sheet, jumped a mile high, and has been staring straight ahead, but like she isn't seeing me. She's kind of freaking me out."

I was vaguely aware of Rose sitting beside me and gently removing one of my hands from Emmett's huge paws. She pressed her fingers to my wrist while watching the mantel clock above the fireplace. "Your pulse is racing, Bella. Try breathing more slowly—you're starting to hyperventilate."

Placing my hand on my chest, I felt it rising and falling far too quickly with my rapid, shallow breaths, plus my heart was pounding almost painfully.

"Here, breathe with me, Bella," Emmett ordered. He took in a slow, deep breath, and then exhaled, counting to ten as he did so. I followed his lead, inhaling and exhaling to his count, and as my breathing gradually normalized, so did my heart rate.

"There you go," he encouraged with a smile. "Feeling better now?"

I nodded. "It's nice to have med students in the house."

"What started all this?" Rose asked, frowning.

"I woke up out of a weird dream and wasn't sure what was real," I answered truthfully.

"Okay—I can understand that," Rose said, but she was watching me with an intensity that put me slightly on edge. "How about that movie?"

Grateful that she changed the subject, the three of us discussed which movie we'd watch.

"We're not watching chick flicks ladies. I don't care if I'm outvoted," Emmett declared.

Rose wrinkled her nose in apparent disgust. "You know I hate most of those movies anyway."

"A few of them are good—I love Clueless and The Princess Bride," I argued.

"Those aren't chick flicks; those are spoofs," corrected Emmett. "Chick flicks are all romance-y and make girls cry. I won't get near anything based on Nicholas Sparks."

"Ew," Rose shivered dramatically.

"Agreed," I laughed.

"I'm in the mood for something scary. How about Paranormal Activity?" Emmett suggested. I felt my expression freeze and felt Rose's eyes on me again.

"No, not tonight," she said lightly, and I hadn't noticed until she spoke that I had been holding my breath…which I let out in a whoosh and forced myself to breathe normally again.

"Hey, how about Alice in Wonderland with Johnny Depp?"

We decided that Emmett's idea was a good one. Rising quickly, I went to the kitchen, Rose on my heels as Emmett set up the DVD player and surround sound system. I decided to make popcorn with real butter while Rose got out the milk and chocolate syrup for cocoa.

"Bella, are you really okay?" she asked me casually.

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to lie to Rose, but I also didn't feel comfortable talking to her about Edward, either.

"Yeah," I answered slowly, shaking the covered pan over the burner as the corn started popping in the hot olive oil. "That dream was really strange—like I wasn't myself but could see myself. It really scared me—and I woke out of it suddenly when you guys came in."

"Sorry," she apologized again, and I waved her off.

"No problem," I smiled, glad that I was able to tell her the truth without revealing that I had seen myself through Edward's eyes…again…which I would definitely discuss with Alice as soon as I could.

A few moments later, we returned to the living room with bowls of buttered popcorn and mugs of cocoa with whipped cream. Emmett flicked the remote, and we were whisked away to Wonderland with Alice.

The movie finished well after midnight, so we sleepily bade each other goodnight. While Em and Rose went up to her room, I gathered the bowls and mugs and put them in the kitchen sink to soak. Although Alice and Jasper weren't home yet, I locked up downstairs before climbing the stairs to my room.

Turning toward my dresser, I took off my watch and set it on top of my jewelry box as usual. Then, as I looked in the mirror, I saw the locket around my neck glimmer in the muted light of my bedside lamp. Carefully I unclasped the chain and placed it back in its velvet box for safekeeping.

Although I wasn't sure how, I felt that wearing the locket had a huge impact on my day. I left the box open on my dresser so that I would still be able to see the golden heart from my bed. Just knowing that it was in my line of sight was a comforting thought.

Gathering my pajamas, I went across the hallway to finish getting ready for bed, and when I returned to my room, I crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Alice and Jasper were seen very little over the weekend. Apparently Alice had a great deal of shopping to do for the Halloween party next Saturday night, and when she wasn't emptying store shelves, she was holed up in her room, her sewing machine whirring day and night. No one but Jasper was allowed in their room as she wanted to surprise us with our costumes, and even he was kicked out (after being sworn to absolute secrecy) for a few hours as she worked on his costume.

It was a quiet weekend. As autumn rains fell steadily outside, I reluctantly decided that it was too cold to study in the attic. Instead, I curled up in front of the roaring fire, bundled in afghans to stay warm. Rose kept the kettle on so that we could make tea or instant cocoa on demand, and she and Emmett often joined me in the living room to study. Frequently the only sounds were the rain falling outside, the fire crackling inside, and the tapping of keyboards and the turning of pages as we worked. I made savory soups with homemade biscuits or muffins for dinners, followed by warm apple crumble for dessert.

Emmett and Jasper claimed that they were keeping me as a roommate/cook forever…even after they married their girls. I guess they really loved the apple crumble. While I laughed at their silliness, I also took their compliments to heart. It was lovely to know that I was contributing to everyone's comfort as I cooked and cleaned.

But while I studied, James' proposal continued simmering on the back burner of my mind. As I chopped onions and peppers for black bean soup, I mulled over the pros and cons of accepting his offer. If the project was accepted for publication, I would be assured entry into practically any graduate program I desired. But working with James meant dealing not only with his womanizing ways but also with the continued fallout due to Lauren and Jessica…which would definitely add to my stress this semester.

However, if a stipend were involved, I doubted that I could refuse such an offer…especially if the stipend were generous enough so that my dad wouldn't have to pay my tuition for at least the second semester. Although he denied it, I knew that Charlie was dipping into his retirement fund to pay my college costs. However, if I did really well this year, I could possibly get a research assistantship in my senior year which would pay for nearly all of my tuition, and my federal grants would cover my living expenses as they did this year.

Plans kept rolling through my mind as I considered all the pluses and minuses of James' offer. But each time I thought over all of the information I had been given, the positives seemed to outweigh the negatives.

Sunday night rolled around with no time to discuss my dream Friday night with Alice. Every time I knocked on her locked door this weekend, I was shooed away…even when I mentioned something about wanting to talk about "new developments regarding the person who gave me the locket." She was immersed in costumes, and there was no talking to her while she was in such a frenzy. Even Jasper was steering clear of the mayhem, escaping to the campus library for most of Sunday.

In a way, though, I was also glad that Alice didn't have time to talk because I was leaning toward accepting James' offer, and I didn't want her to talk me out of it. After mulling the situation over all weekend, I had come to a decision. If an adequate stipend from the department was involved and if I saw an actual change in James' character on Monday, I would accept his proposal. The vulnerability I had glimpsed beneath his womanizing persona made me think that I could work with him well enough…despite Alice's and Peter's warnings.

I had not experienced anything further from Edward all weekend, either…which made me feel anxious and relieved at the same time. I definitely had to study all weekend, so perhaps it was better that I hadn't experienced anything odd besides sleeping more soundly than usual. Perhaps it was something about this house that brought me such deep and restful slumber…or maybe it was just relief at escaping Jessica and her drama queen tendencies…or perhaps it was Edward's presence that helped me to sleep so well.

I definitely preferred the last reason…although I barely admitted it to myself.

I awoke on Monday morning feeling well-rested and ready to tackle my day. With all the preparations ahead of us for the Halloween party on Saturday, this week would be crazy, but keeping busy was a good thing in my opinion.

When I went downstairs to make my tea and toast, Alice and Jasper were sipping coffee and enjoying the cranberry scones I had baked yesterday. As I seated myself at the table with my breakfast, I couldn't miss the sad expression, complete with impressive puppy-dog eyes, that Alice was sending my way.

"What is it, Alice?" I asked, taking a large bite of toast and jam.

Her bottom lip jutted out even further, and Jasper disguised a snort of laughter as a cough behind his coffee mug, ignoring her warning glare.

"You know why," Alice stated. "You're going to work with James despite all that Peter and I have told you."

I put down my teacup so abruptly that it rattled loudly against the saucer. "Alice, I need a job anyway, and if this project involves a stipend, I'm going to take it." I took a breath. "And I have a feeling that James isn't as horrible as you think he is."

Alice sighed. "Yeah, I've been getting that feeling all weekend, too," she admitted. The she narrowed her eyes at me. "But I still don't think that working closely with James is a good idea."

Noticing the time, I gulped the rest of my tea and carried my dishes to the sink. "I know, Alice. And I haven't completely decided yet. I have some questions for James, and I want to see how he acts today. But I'm seriously considering working on this project. If there's a stipend, if it can help me get into a good graduate school, and if it can help me get a research assistantship here and perhaps in grad school as well, I think it will be worth dealing with James and his womanizing."

Jasper gave me a long look, and then nodded in agreement. Turning to Alice, he said, "Allie, Bella's thought this over carefully, and she has good reasons for doing this project. We all know that James is a jerk, but he's not dangerous—just damn annoying. And if Bella thinks that the positive aspects of this project outweigh the only negative of having to work with James, then we need to support her."

"Thanks, Jasper," I said, smiling. I appreciated his calm manner and logical approach which balanced Alice's emotional exuberance.

Alice cleared their breakfast things, too, and then gave me a hug. As she released me, she smiled…but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I trust you, Bella, and if you decide to do this project with James, then we'll definitely have your back."

"Thanks, Alice. I really appreciate that."

"I'm still going to worry about you, though," she reminded me.

I laughed, Jasper joining me. "So noted," I said seriously, recognizing the concern behind her smile.

We walked out to our cars together, and I followed Jasper's truck to campus, parking next to him.

Waving goodbye, we separated to go to our classes.

My classes were fine all day until I entered economics…where I was expecting some drama given Lauren's and James' "big date" on Friday night which I was sure she would describe in great detail for the benefit of the class…and to supposedly make me jealous.

Really, it just made me disgusted…with her and definitely with him.

As I took my accustomed seat halfway back in the large auditorium-like classroom, I was surprised to see Lauren angry rather than exultant as she whispered to Katie. And this time, she kept her voice low enough that her words didn't carry.

Although I was puzzled by her actions, I was far more grateful to not be the target of her bragging…plus the less I knew about James' private life, the better, especially if we were going to work together on this project.

As I got out my laptop and book, I didn't notice that Lauren had moved to stand directly in front of my seat. Towering over me, she leaned her palms onto my desk, her face distorted with fury.

"What the hell did you say to him?" she hissed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested, shocked at her aggressive manner.

"Yes, you do, you sneaky little bitch! First you go after Mike, and now James. You're a little slut, stealing everyone else's boyfriends!"

Yes, I had been daunted by Jessica's accusations because I partially blamed myself for what happened, but I knew very well that I had nothing to do with James.

And Lauren's assumptions really pissed me off.

Not only was I on my feet before I knew it, I was in Lauren's face, forcing her step back awkwardly. "Lauren, I have no idea what you're going on about, but I assure you that I had nothing to do with anything James did or didn't do. You had the date with him, plus the after-date plans that you so kindly shared with us last week. So why are you in my face about it?"

Lauren seemed a little confused by my response, but continued her diatribe anyway. "Jessica saw you with him at Starbucks Friday afternoon. Then as soon as you left, Jessica watched him call me from right outside—to cancel our date!" she retorted, her face reddening with anger.

I blinked, surprised. "He canceled? Really?"

"Yes, he did. And you made him do it, you little bitch!" Lauren stepped forward as if to push or strike me, but she came to a halt as a cold voice carried loudly through the classroom.

"What is going on here, ladies?" James' question stopped Lauren's movement toward me, and I almost dropped into my seat with relief. I really didn't need to get hurt today, and I blessed James' perfect timing.

"Lauren?" By this point, James was standing with us, subtly angling his body between us to protect me from further attempted attacks.

But Lauren, either too angry or too stupid to realize the hole she was digging for herself, hissed at him. "I know that she," Lauren jabbed a talon-like fingernail in my direction, "somehow made you cancel our date for Friday night. This is what she does, and everyone knows it. She's too much of a loser to find her own boyfriend, so she tries to steal ours. She's just a little—"

"First of all," James interrupted smoothly before Lauren could call me a bitch (again), his voice detached and formal, "I would rather not discuss my personal life in front of your classmates, but since you have chosen a public venue, you will have to bear the consequences, Lauren." His voice became coldly accusatory. "And since when does asking you out on one date—one date only—qualify me as your 'boyfriend'?"

Lauren gasped as he continued, unrelenting. "Furthermore, Isabella did not discuss my date with you during our meeting on Friday afternoon; we met to discuss a purely academic subject. Therefore, I advise you to return to your seat and not become involved in matters that do not concern you."

Blushing furiously, I slipped into my seat as James strode to the podium at the front of the classroom. As he turned to face us, his cold fury was nearly palpable as he glared at Lauren who remained standing beside my desk, white-faced with disbelief. After a long moment, she tossed her hair over her shoulder, stomped to her seat, grabbed her things, and left the classroom, her face cherry-red with embarrassment as she slammed the door shut behind her. We could hear the echo of her designer heels click-clacking angrily down the hall.

His expression deceptively calm, James quietly addressed the students. "I apologize for taking class time to settle a personal matter, and I assure you that it will not happen again. Let's get started, shall we?"

As James lectured on European practical economics, I took copious notes as was my habit. However, the class remained quiet and tense, the usual teasing banter between James and the students absent. He remained businesslike, even formal—which was very unlike his normally relaxed and humorous teaching style.

With fifteen minutes left before the end of class, James checked his watch. "I'd rather wait until Wednesday to start the intricacies of Keynesian economic theory," he stated. "So I'll release you early. Expect a quiz later this week on the assigned chapters."

Ignoring the moans of my classmates at this last news and tucking the threat of a pop quiz into my memory, I stood up to slip my laptop back into my bag and gathered my things; with an extra fifteen minutes at least I wouldn't have to rush to philosophy as usual this afternoon. Perhaps I could stop by and get some tea at Starbucks on my way….

"Ms. Swan, may I see you for a moment?" I groaned audibly as James' voice echoed through the half-full room as the students exited, rejoicing in being released early.

Without replying, I hiked my bookbag onto my shoulder and approached the lectern where James was putting away his own things. "Could we meet in my office for a few minutes, please?" he asked politely. "We have some matters to discuss, and I'd rather not do so in public."

"Of course," I agreed quietly. "But I have class in twenty minutes, and it's all the way across campus."

"It will only take a few minutes, and I'll write you a note if necessary."

Nodding, I followed him down the hall to a room much larger than Peter's TA office, but this room was cluttered with over half a dozen desks, so a lot of TA's must share this cramped space. Two of the desks were occupied by people who were obviously grading papers.

Ignoring the others, he led me to a messy desk in the far corner. "Have a seat," he nodded toward a rickety wooden chair beside the desk.

After I sat down, he took the uncomfortable-looking chair behind the desk. Wasting no time, James asked, "So have you decided?"

His serious demeanor puzzled me a bit; the usually teasing and flirtatious James hadn't cracked a smile during class or afterward.

"I'm leaning in a particular direction, but I have a few questions first."

"Go ahead."

I asked about the hours involved, and he assured me that we'd be working ten to fifteen hours per week—which was ideal for me. When I inquired about the possibility of receiving a stipend, the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.

Reaching into his overflowing inbox, he withdrew a manila folder. Opening it, he removed a single sheet of paper topped with the university's logo and handed it to me.

Glancing over the letter, I saw that the economic department was indeed offering me a modest research stipend. "I thought you might need it, so I put in the request" James admitted slowly, not looking at me. "The department is willing to pay you ten dollars per hour for a minimum of ten hours and a maximum of fifteen hours a week. Is that acceptable?"

"Very. Thank you."

Finally he looked at me directly, and I was surprised to see something that resembled hope in his expression. "Does that mean that you will work with me on this project?" he asked softly.

"I have one more question, but it's personal. You don't have to answer it," I stated nervously.

"You want to know why I canceled with Lauren?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak as I took in the strange combination of expressions flitting across his face: coldness, anger, vulnerability, hope, regret.

"Your opinion of me matters far more than I thought it would," he admitted, avoiding my eyes again. "I couldn't go out with Lauren—and do what she expected would follow—because I knew that you would despise me even more than you already do. And I—I would despise myself, too. In addition, I want to pursue a career in teaching at the university level, and having a mark against me for dating a student would destroy my chances of being employed by a prestigious university after I complete my Ph.D. here. I talked to Dr. Whitman after meeting with you on Friday afternoon, and he told me about how high our chances of publication will be if we submitted a project for the conference. While he was extremely encouraging, he also informed me that my attitude toward my students needed to change if I want to be taken seriously in academic circles. Apparently, Henry has great hopes for my future; there's even a possibility of gaining a tenure-track position here after I graduate if I turn things around."

He sighed. "But I had canceled my date with Lauren even before I met with Henry. My decision wasn't merely based on university policy and my academic career; it was about self-respect, the respect of my department…and your respect."

Flabbergasted, I whispered, "Why does what I think mean anything to you?"

Still not looking at me, he replied, "I don't know. But it does…very much."

Nervously, I replied, "I'm willing to work with you, James, but I want it understood that I'm not looking for someone to date, and if I work on this project with you, obviously dating you would be off the table." I looked up at him, and he was gazing at me with an odd softness in his expression. "But if you are looking for a friend and co-worker, I'm in."

"Thank you." Relief filled his features for a moment before his new serious demeanor took over. "Aren't you going to be late for Peter's class?"

"Yikes," I jumped to my feet, checking my watch. "If I run for it, I can just make it."

He stood up as well. "You have my e-mail address on the class syllabus. Please e-mail me tonight, and we can exchange contact information. I have some preliminary work to do before we can begin, so we'll start the project next Monday."

"Great!" I jogged toward the door. "Talk to you soon!" With a wave over my shoulder, I took off running across campus to the Philosophy/World Religions department, feeling both satisfied and a little confused by James' words and actions today.

I could only hope that the "new-and-improved James" wasn't just a mirage—there one moment but disappearing the closer one gets.

I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter. It's loooong, over 6300 words, so I hope you will find it worth the two-week interval between chapters.

With starting homeschooling and preparing my new online and IRL classes, I wasn't able to respond to many reviews, and I'm sorry about that. And with my new crazy fall schedule, I can't guarantee that I'll be able to respond to reviews; all my free time is devoted to writing and revising the next chapter for you all.

Thanks for reading—and I hope—reviewing; your comments encourage me to keep on writing! I read, save, and treasure each one.

See you in two weeks, my friends!

3,

Cassandra :)

xxxooo