Xander parted from his friends and rode his skateboard into the Art Department. He looked around, a little put off by the multi-colored walls of the different buildings. There were posters, pictures, and paintings hung up everywhere in mini-galleries and on the walls. It was very different from Sunnydale High.
He picked up his board and walked up the stairs, turning left and going inside of the first classroom. Almost all of the seats were taken, so he made his way noisily to the back and sat down next to a brunette. He glanced at her as he put down his backpack and skateboard. "This is Art 101, right?"
She turned to look at him. Xander subconsciously noted all the black mascara and eyeliner on her, not to mention her dark red lipstick.
"Yeah, it is," she answered. "Did you get all your materials?"
He stared at her dumbly. "What?"
"It was on the syllabus," she said, nodding to the paper on her desk.
"The what?"
She rolled her eyes. "Freshie, right?" Xander nodded in response. She handed him her paper. "You can find your class syllabus online, usually, before school even starts. That way, you know what books to buy before they sell out, and what materials to purchase just in case your professor decides to teach."
Xander gulped and looked down. "Why didn't they mention all of this at the orientation?!"
The brunette smirked. "You kinda just learn it on your own."
Willow sat next to Buffy in a professor-less room. It was relatively small, but nonetheless crowded. No one did much talking, seeing as no one knew anyone.
The professor was a few minutes late. Willow told Buffy in hushed tones that in college, when a professor was more than fifteen minutes late, the students can leave and assume class has been cancelled. "I heard someone mention it was in the rulebook," Willow said seriously.
The door opened and a man who looked like he was in his mid-twenties came in. He made his way to the front desk and podium; a few confused students looked around.
"Excuse me," one girl called out. Buffy recognized her as Cordelia from Sunnydale High, one of the popular girls. "Are you our professor?"
The man nodded. "I'm technically the teacher's assistant," he elaborated as he removed some papers from his backpack, "but I've been assigned to teach this class."
Everyone in the room watched him closely. He moved to the front of the class and folded his arms against his chest, leaning slightly on the podium. Buffy eyed him with the rest of the class. He looks like a poet, she thought, taking in his black stylish turtleneck and black slacks. His eyes were what really set her off. She could feel them
Feel? How can anyone feel someone's eyes?
and they were a dark hazel, a deep brown. Buffy shifted in her seat and instantly wished she had taken Willow's advice and sat in the front.
"Hey everyone," the teacher's assistant said. His voice was deep
and smooth, and silky, and—ugh, pay attention!
and it washed over Buffy completely. "I'm Angelus…Angel, for short. Your professor Mr. Giles is the one listed on your schedule, but he's busy conducting research. He'll be flying from California to England on a daily basis, so obviously, he can't teach at the same time."
Buffy looked around the classroom and noticed she wasn't the only person who wished she moved to the front. The other girls were so close to drooling it was pathetic. Buffy laughed to herself and secretly hoped she didn't look anything like the rest of her classmates.
"I better get going," Willow whispered to Buffy while Angel passed out the syllabus to the class.
Buffy nodded. "I'll call you after class." Willow made a move to get up just as Buffy reached out and pulled her back. "Actually…could you wait until he calls roll to leave, Wills?"
Willow smiled and noded, sitting back in her seat. The boy sitting in front of Buffy leans back, handing her a syllabus. She looked down at it, amazed by the set schedule and the organization required to teach a college course. Angel started to call roll and Willow discretely left the classroom, waving goodbye to Buffy on her way out.
The girls in the classroom began to ask pointless questions about the syllabus once Angel was finished checking the roster. Buffy took out her cellphone and started to text Willow.
im bored…grls r goin crazy over angel
Willow responded by saying "he's so young!"
Buffy looked up, making sure no one paid attention to her, before texting Willow back. he's only a lil older than us :)
whats that supposed to mean, buffy? ;)
Buffy let out a chuckle. Everyone turned to look at her, including Angelus
Angel
who raised his eyebrows. "Something wrong, Ms…?"
"Summers," Buffy answered. "Buffy. And, uh, no."
"I see," Angel said. He nodded towards the cellphone in her lap. "Then that must be a conversation to yourself?"
She looked down at her cellphone and slightly reddened. "Sorry," Buffy mumbled as she closed her phone and put it back in her pocket. Angel smirked as the class laughed softly. Buffy sunk into her seat a little lower than necessary, doodling in her notebook while Angel answered the different girls' pointless questions.
Eventually, the Freshman Composition class took a turn from questions to lecture. Buffy noticed that throughout the entire session, Angel never once sat down in his chair. She wondered if all college professors did that. Sometimes he leaned against the wall or on the podium, or sat on his desk.
Angel cleared his throat. Buffy snapped to attention along with everyone else in the class; his presence was both demanding and subtle at the same time.
"Don't forget to stop by the bookstore," Angel said. "Pick up the two textbooks on your syllabus and have them by the next session." His eyes rested on Buffy, who matched his stare in response. "We'll be doing some actual work by then."
The class laughed. Angel's stare lingered on Buffy for a moment longer before he turned to the rest of the class. "Enjoy the rest of your classes, guys. This semester's going to go by quick."
