1- She's the One

Ohh! Sigh! Give her your attention! Do I really have to mention, she's the… she's the… she's… the… one…

"Maureen, turn the volume of this thing down!"

"We won't ask you twice, young lady, turn it off already!"

She rolled her eyes and waited until the last notes of the music ceased before she turned the tape off. She knew what was coming next. She snatched a magazine from the bedside and flopped on her bed. There were steps down the hall and a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called in her sweetest tone as she was flipping through the magazine absent-mindedly. The door opened and her brother Anthony walked in. They were never close, for Anthony was twelve years older than her. It was no secret at the Johnson family that her parents never planned to have her. She was an accident, as simple as that. So often did she feel like one, too.

"Maureen, will you please keep the music down, me and dad are working on something," her brother said, his arms crossed on his chest, giving her that arrogant, scorning look she despised. He left home for law school several years back, but since he graduated and joined her father's firm it felt as if he never left. And she couldn't do anything without him criticizing her.

"What music?" she asked, looking at him innocently over the page of the magazine.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Stop acting like such a child all the time."

"Then you stop treat me like one. I'm fuckin' 18, Anthony, I can do what I want."

Her brother shot her a cold glare. "Watch your language."

"Screw you Anthony, you're not my dad, you can't tell me how to live my life!"

"But I can," said a third voice, as her father walked into the room. He looked at her severely. "And I will not tolerate this behavior in my house."

She sat on her bed, now annoyed. "Your house? I thought it was my house too!"

"Is that the reason you walk around, doing whatever you want?" From behind her father, her brother was nodding in agreement. It was obvious that he felt the same. Damn him. He really had to get himself a life; maybe that way he'd stop sticking his nose in hers. Why couldn't he finally meet someone, marry her and settle down in Australia or something? "You will do what you are told when you are told. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"I sure hope so," said her father, and left her room, following Anthony's lead.

Once the door closed behind them, she rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't wait to get out of there. She was about to leave for college at the end of the summer, and she was counting the days until she would. That in itself led to one of the worst arguments she ever had with her parents. They expected her to follow her brother and father's way and go to law school, then join the family firm. Yet as far as she was concerned, it was the most absurd thing that could have possibly happen. She could never imagine herself as a lawyer, not to mention working side by side with Anthony, ugh. Besides, she had other plans. That's right. She has already decided what she wanted to do with her life, and it had nothing to do with law school.

It all started not so long ago, on her 16th birthday, when she went to New York City with her aunt Sharon and her cousin Shirley. It was her parents' gift for her birthday, but the best part was that they couldn't accompany her there, since it was just the time for their annual visit in Europe. Aunt Sharon and her daughter were always better company anyway.

They went to see Annie on Broadway. She had never seen a show on Broadway before, but she heard a lot about it from her Aunt Sharon, who was a huge Broadway fan for years. The lights faded in the theater, the curtain rustled as it opened, the orchestra started playing… and the magic began.

Magic. There was absolutely no other word to describe it. It was love of first sight. She got the stage-bug, and she got it bad. When the show ended she remained in her seat, transfixed, as people all around her made their way out of the theater. She hardly heard her aunt calling her name.

She'd go back there someday, she told herself couple of days later, as they left the city that never slept. She'd go back and be someone. She'd be the one on that stage one day. She smiled as the sight of New York was fading in the distance, melting into the sunset. Broadway had no idea what it is up against.

She spent hours babysitting no matter how much she hated it, and put the money she earned in her old piggy-bank which she kept at the top shelf of her closet. She listened to every Broadway soundtrack she could put her hands on. She auditioned for the school production of Guys and Dolls, got the role of Adelaide, and managed to shift the audience's attention from the leading roles into her slightly smaller one. Her parents dismissed her growing interest in the performing arts. They treated it as a phase, something that was sure to pass, like… girls and horses. This was why they were caught completely off-guard when she told them of her plans to apply for an acting school in New York, instead of going to law school.

Her father wouldn't hear of it, he said. If she didn't want to study law, she should at least apply to a "normal" college and study something "reasonable" like economy or biology. Her mother agreed, and disappeared in her bedroom with another migraine. Anthony took their side of course, and gave her a whole lecture on how they were all doing it for her own good.

She didn't make it through the audition of the New York acting school, which was a painful blow for her and a winning card for her parents, who claimed that if she missed her chance she probably wasn't very good at it. They always knew how to make her feel completely useless. By then she was so depressed and so mad at them, that the only thing she wanted was leave the house, and the sooner the better. The first college that accepted her was in Massachusetts, and this was where she intended to go. American History didn't sound so thrilling, but she would have gone to study math if it was her chance to get out of the house. Besides, she could always take some drama courses every now and again. Maybe even voice lessons. And then when she'd graduate… who knew, she thought, a determined smile curling on her lips. Yeah. She'd be just fine.

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The first year of college flashed by. As much as she hated to admit it, school has been pretty fascinating. She did well in all her courses, which kind of surprised her, because she didn't spend much time studying at her dorm room or at the library. The drama club sucked badly, so she gave it up, telling herself she was way better, which was probably true. She never had a chance to take those voice lessons as she planned, since her college never offered any. Making friends was always pretty easy for her, and although most of her fellow students were extremely self-centered, she did manage to find two or three people to hang out with. One of them was Belinda Woodhouse, her roommate. A student of Philosophy, Belinda wasn't very pretty or popular, almost invisible in the students' standards, definitely not the usual type she would normally hang out with, but she turned out to be nice and loyal, and they got along really well.

She didn't go back home during the summer vacation. The campus was never deserted, not even during the summer, and she actually had a great time. There was a party almost every evening, and she happened to meet some really cute guys during that time. She was always a flirt, it was never a secret. People always looked at her wherever she went, and she always flirted back because, well, she liked the attention. She dated a few of those she met at the parties, but never more than three times because they always ended up boring the hell out of her. And she wasn't looking for anything serious, just a good time. She wasn't the girl for long-termed relationships. She was too young for that, she figured. She had to have her fun.

She started a new hobby of scribbling verses in a small notebook she always carried in her bag. At the beginning she did it because those verses popped in her head and kept her distracted, and she had to let them out somehow. And then, as she was moving from single verses into what had the potential to be an actual song, and when she couldn't help from matching a tune to the lyrics, she started taking writing more seriously, thinking it might serve her well someday when she'd move to New York.

When the August heat became unbearable, she applied to some summer courses to pass the time, one of them being a seminar in philosophy Belinda warmly recommended on before she left for Boston. She could never get philosophy, it was always so damn abstract, and yet she thought she'd give it a shot. She could always blame Belinda for making her go there, if it'd be really horrible.

She couldn't believe her eyes when she walked into the auditorium on the morning of the first lesson. The place was packed. In the front, close to the stage, people were standing. Who was that guy, that so many people were willing to give up a day by the pool to be in his lecture, she wondered as she found a seat at the back. Belinda said he was a guest lecturer in their college, a computer genius from MIT who lately wrote a sensational article about computer-age philosophy. Well, he'd better be good, she told herself, taking a notepad out of her backpack, as the noise at the auditorium gradually ceased. A man was making his way to the front of the stage. He was tall and well-built, and had a gorgeous smile, she suddenly noticed, leaning slightly forward as this realization hit her. He introduced himself as Professor Tom Collins. He had a rich, deep voice, and although there were more than 200 people in the auditorium, he hardly used the mic.

She had no idea what he said during the 90 minutes of the lecture. She just sat there, distracted by the velvety sound of his voice, letting her thoughts be carried away in far away, dangerous directions. The next class she found a seat at the front row, right in front of the mic. Sitting so close, he looked even better. She smiled to herself as she was scribbling notes of what was said. She decided that one way to catch the cute professor's attention was to pass his course on a high grade. By the next class, she dressed a bit nicer than usual and did what she had never done before; she started to show interest in what was said in class, asking questions and contradicting other people's opinions (which she actually kind of liked), making sure he'd know who she was.

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"That will be all for today, unless you've got further questions," he said. She raised her head from her notepad, realizing she had been daydreaming for the past 15 minutes or so. Professor Collins looked around. No one spoke. "Okay then. I'll see you all next week." She could swear he looked straight at her as he said it. It was their 7th class, and she still didn't find the courage to come up there at the end of the class and start a conversation. But she knew she'd have to do it soon, because sitting there thinking about it from the beginning of class to its very end was extremely distracting.

So she got up, determined and confident, straightened her short skirt and made her way upstage. He was surrounded by several students who came over to ask him questions. By the time they left, the auditorium was nearly deserted. She hesitated, but only for a second, before she walked over to him, her heels clinging against the parquet of the stage. He was stuffing his bag with some books and papers, and didn't seem to notice her, until she was several steps away. He raised his head, as if surprised someone was still there.

"Oh, Miss Johnson. Still here, I see," he said, flashing her a heart-melting grin.

"Still here," she replied, giving him her best smile.

"I was very impressed by your paper, by the way. Didn't have a chance to tell you before. Very, uhh… creative. Is philosophy your major?"

"No. American History."

"Oh. How is that going?"

"It's fine. I mean, so far."

"So what can I do for you?" he asked, motioning her to follow him downstage. She did, and they made their way up the stairs towards the exit.

At first she thought to make up a question about today's lecture, or ask for his help in their next writing-assignment, but eventually she decided to go straight for the purpose she came for. "Well, I was wondering… if you'd want to have a cup of coffee with me," she said slowly, making it sound casual and innocent.

He stopped on his tracks and turned to face her. He was towering over her, as he was standing two stairs above her. He watched her carefully, as if to make sure she wasn't kidding. She looked straight at him. "You're my student," he said eventually, his tone soft and hesitant.

"Only technically. I mean you're only here for the summer." Lame, lame, lame. She felt like kicking herself. She just hoped it didn't sound so pathetic as she thought it did.

"And that makes you less my student?"

"Of course," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing. "Besides…" she climbed the two stairs that separated them and stood very close. "No one needs to know," she murmured seductively, her lips close to his ear. The scent of his aftershave tickled her nostrils. She didn't even care he was probably her brother's age, maybe a bit younger. She didn't care of anything. She set up this goal, and she was determined to get it.

He laughed kind of nervously, and stepped back. She raised her head in surprise and slight panic. This trick worked on everyone! How could he be so indifferent about it? Was she losing her touch?

"I can't say I'm not flattered, Miss Johnson, but it'll never happen. I'm sure there are many others in this campus who'd die to be in my place right now." He glanced at his watch and looked back at her. "I really have to run. I'll see you next class, okay?"

She watched him as he left the auditorium. She was too shocked to feel humiliated. She has just been turned down. She couldn't believe it. She was practically offering herself on a plate and he turned her down without thinking twice. She wished Belinda was there. She didn't trust none of the other girls who stayed with her for the summer to take this very seriously. They'd probably think what he did, she was his student. It could never have happened.

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The rest of the summer dragged on. After that awkward incident at the auditorium, she thought it would be best to lower her profile and keep her distant from Professor Collins. So she stopped sitting at the front of the class, stopped talking, just sat there and listened and took her notes. If he noticed the change in her behavior he never said anything about it. She still couldn't believe he turned her down. She told Belinda about it, once she got back to the campus.

"Maybe he already has a girlfriend," said Belinda.

She shook her head and let out a dramatic sigh. "God, Belinda, I waited weeks for you to come back and comfort me and this is what you have to say to me?"

"What do you want me to say? What other reason could he have to turn you down?" Then her eyes grew big as something occurred to her. "Maybe…" she started, pausing as if to give her words a more dramatic effect. A sly smile curled on her lips. "Maybe he's gay."

If they weren't sitting on the lawn, she would have fallen off. "What? No, come on. He can't be gay."

"Why not?"

"Because… he can't," she said weakly, knowing that wasn't very convincing. "Because it'll be against the laws of nature."

"You said he knew how to dress."

"Right, but it doesn't always-"

"And he didn't even look at you. At you, Maureen."

"Well, I thought he did, at first," she said miserably. This whole thing was beginning to make her feel really frustrated. "But then he started with all this 'you're my student' crap."

"Mark my words. He's gay."

"Belinda, I don't wanna hear it. He can't be gay. And I'm gonna prove it to you."

"Oh yeah? And how do you plan to do that?"

Her lips curled into a mysterious smile. "You'll see."

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As the new semester was about to start the following week, most students were already back at the campus, just in time for the last summer party. The place was already packed when she stepped in there with Belinda. The music was too loud and pretty bad, and several people were drunk already. She let her gaze wander around the room. She was on a mission, and she didn't intend to waste any second in acting it out. She detected him at the other side of the room. He was alone, she noticed. Perfect. She handed her drink to Belinda and made her way towards him.

He was standing with his back to her. She sneaked behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She could tell it startled him, but he didn't turn around. "Dance with me," she whispered in his ear, her tone seductive and low. He turned to face her, but didn't shake her off, which she thought was a good sign. "I'm not your student anymore."

He looked straight at her. "No, you're not."

"So dance with me," she said again, grabbing his tie. He didn't try to resist when she pulled him to the dance floor, not even when she pressed herself against him as the music slowed down and the lights dimmed. "Aren't you a little young to be a professor?" she asked, snaking her arms around his neck.

He didn't even flinch. "How old do you think I am?"

"That's just it, I can't really tell. Early 30's? You seem to be my brother's age, but I'm not sure."

"I'm 25, if you must know."

25? That was better than she expected! The thought of him being Anthony's age started to bug her. But if he was 25 it changed everything. "Still, 25 is young for a professor," she said, slowly caressing the back of his neck with her fingers, never breaking their gaze.

"Look, Miss Johnson-"

"It's Maureen," she said, her voice low.

"Maureen. I know what you're trying to do," he said, looking down at her. "And it's not gonna work."

"What am I trying to do?" she pouted, looking at him innocently.

"It's not gonna work," he repeated, and she imagined to detect a slight quiver in his voice.

She inched closer. "I'm not doing anything."

He reached out a hand as if to stop her. "Look, there's something you should know before you-"

"Honey, there you are! I was looking all over for you!"

She looked back, annoyed, and was about to snap at the person who dared to interrupt her in her mission. It was a man she had never met before, and it took her 5 more seconds to realize that it wasn't her he was addressing. Belinda's words rushed back, suddenly extremely realistic, and she instinctively pulled herself away from Professor Collins.

The strange man walked past her and wrapped one arm around Professor Collins' waist. She stared at them, mortified, as humiliation washed all over her. Gah! How could she be so blind?

"Maureen Johnson, that's Greg Summers, my boyfriend."

Yeah, like she couldn't figure that out herself, she thought, acknowledging Greg with a slight nod and a mumbled "nice to meet you." Then with no further words, she turned and made her way through the crowd, wishing to be as far away from there as she could possibly get. She couldn't stay there. By tomorrow everyone would know everything and she could never leave her dorm room again.

"Hey, Maureen, where are you going?" asked Belinda as she passed her, but she didn't stop to answer. She'll have a lot of time to do that later, when she's less upset. Or humiliated. God, how did she let this happen?

The night air was chilly, and she embraced her shoulders to keep warm. She was shaking with anger, not so much for him but for herself. She couldn't believe it was happening to her. What was she thinking, to hit on a teacher of hers in the first place? It was pathetic. She should have stuck to guys her age. She shouldn't have gone-

"I tried to tell you," said a quiet voice from behind her, wrapping something around her shoulders. She turned, startled, and there he was, the source of her misery and humiliation, standing there looking slightly worried. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied, avoiding his eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

"I'm sorry I put you in this position in the first place," she said. She originally meant to snap at him and make a scene, but then she realized it was kind of pointless, since she was the one practically throwing herself at his feet.

He laughed softly. "You are pretty persistent, aren't you?"

"Only when I know what I want." He looked amused. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"No, no, you just… remind me of someone." She looked at him questionably. "Me." There was a short pause, and then he spoke again. "So how about a new beginning?" he asked, stretching out his hand. "Hi. I'm Tom Collins. Friends call me Collins."

She hesitated, but then slowly shook his hand, finally daring to look at him. "Maureen Johnson."

He smiled at her. It was that same smile that caught her attention the first time. She cursed her misfortune. "Well, Maureen Johnson, I think it's gonna be the beginning of a wonderful friendship."