A/N: Yeah, I realize the last chapter was a bit of a tease, but I had to give that portion a stand-alone chapter the more it appeared to be so. Now that that is out of the way, here 'ya go. Enjoy!
Chapter 02
Natalya worked at the student language "café" her university had set up to aid American and foreign students alike in their particular area of study, that is, the language they had selected to learn as either their second, third, or in some cases, fourth. The "café" had little in common with an actual café: the room was located in the basement of the university library and the coffee and tea provided by the staff for them to serve to the students was terrible. It had not taken long after the inauguration of the café decades ago for the foreign students to start bringing in their own brews.
Unforeseen at the time was that such a move would encourage rows between the students over who got to use the coffee maker or, in the case of tea, the lone tea set and water boiler. The arguments also had a lighter tone to them when it came to the monthly debate over which country had the best coffee or best tea. Natalya found it amusing how behind the scenes a few students had taken their national pride to another level by lobbying their fellow tutors into joining their "camp". For example, ever since Yao, the Mandarin tutor, had for Christmas distributed small samples of his green tea, the Hindi tutor had begun serving Darjeeling tea to tutors and students alike whenever she worked a shift.
Such as today.
Natalya looked up from her macroeconomics textbook to sip her tea. That and to send a long overdue glare across the room at the other Russian tutor who had just a split-second ago been staring at her. It was no surprise to her that the perpetrator was Toris, a sophomore tutor from Lithuania. The Lithuanian's shoulders jumped and his embarrassed eyes zipped to table before him, his cheeks tinged pink.
"It is clear Toris likes you, don't you think?"
Although she recognized his voice, Natalya shifted her eyes to the source anyway. Sometimes Natalya wondered if all the international students at the university bore stereotypical names typical of their home countries. Like her brother, for example. To her left sat the head French tutor Francis, who, as his name and area of tutelage indicated, hailed from France. The previous semester, she had overheard the Frenchman telling her freshman colleague, Matthew(?) that he had applied for a job in the language café for two reasons: to meet hot students and because he considered it his mission in life to spread the language of love. She had thought to ask if by "hot students" he had meant "girls", but then he remembered the reputation of the French back in Europe and had tossed her question aside.
"Yes, I know," Natalya finally replied.
"Then why don't you do something about it?"
"Because I am not interested."
He shook his head. "The poor boy," the Frenchman lamented, "He sits there unaware of his love's rejection."
For a language center designed to help students of foreign languages, it was interesting that there was always a good amount of accented English being spoken in the room. After all, it was the common language they all shared. When Luwig and Heracles argued over the economic policies of their respective countries and the effect they would have on the EU, they did so in English. When the Czech tutor was bored and wanted to pick fights over who had the best beer in the world, she would do so in English. When the soccer maniacs debated their sport, they did so in English.
Getting lost in thought had prevented Natalya from noticing that Francis had shimmied next to her. But no worries: her escape route had just arrived. She ignored the concerned look on Toris' face and pointed at the front desk. Standing there were two students, both looking awkward and clueless.
"Do not fly far, my beautiful dove," the Frenchman sighed as he stood to greet the two students. To other girls, the pet name would have been a godsend and something to fawn over later in private. To her, it was just silly.
Natalya looked at the clock and was relieved to see there were only fifteen minutes left on the clock. Those fifteen more minutes meant that she would be just in time to catch the start of her brother's first basketball game of the season. Ivan had trained very hard during the pre-season to retain his starting position and she was eager to see if all his hard work had paid off. Natalya collected her textbook, mug, laptop, and notebook and began placing them into her bag when a student walked up to her.
"Yo," is all he said.
"I'm sorry I was just-"
The man was tall. That's the first thing she noticed. Then the blue eyes behind his glasses, his neatly groomed hair (albeit a rebellious cowlick made that made him look childish), his dark green polo shirt and khaki slacks that ended in black polished shoes. He was handsome, Natalya admitted.
"I'm looking for Kiku Honda? Like the car? The dude's, like, this tall," the student held his palm out just below his shoulder. "He's also got a crappy haircut. Know him?"
Yes, she knew him.
"I believe his shift ended an hour ago."
"Awwww," the sandy-haired student placed his hands on his hips and looked genuinely put-out, "that sucks. He was supposed to tutor me afterwards."
"In Japanese?" Natalya truly had no interest in the student nor in his friend, but speaking to him would make the end of her shift come sooner, and that much closer to watching the start of her brother's basketball game.
"Nah. Macroeconomics. The stuff makes my brain hurt, but hey," he shrugged, "it's a major requirement."
"Yes," Natalya had to agree, "it's difficult."
For the first time the student took a genuine interest in her, signaled by the arch of his eyebrow. He looked her over and smiled, suddenly becoming more friendly for no reason. Natalya figured it was because of the new connection he had found between them, but she had now way of knowing from experience- she didn't suddenly become more relaxed in speech just because she met one of the 600+ undergrads taking the course. But that clearly did not matter to him.
"No kidding. It also doesn't help that lecture is held in such a huge room. 'coz of training, I'm almost always late so I end up sitting near the back."
"Which professor do you have?"
"Bose. You?"
"The same."
"No way! Morning or afternoon lecture?" The student leaned in to give her a quick tap on her arm, as if in congratulations for finding something in common. The touch surprised her, as Americans tended to be particular about their personal space. In her six months in the United States, it seemed to Natalya that Americans were okay with public contact only on two occasions: something called "PDA" (it had taken her a week to figure out what it meant) and in contact sports. Leave it to the Americans to have two extremes for such a simple thing.
"Morning."
"Hmmm..."
The student took a step back to study her. After five seconds, or what seemed like it, he snapped his fingers and smiled.
"You sit in the second row, right? Wow, I can't believe I didn't notice it before."
Natalya blinked. "Pardon?"
"Your hair! It's really noticeable from the back! It's like, like..." the student waved his hand, struggling to find a proper way to complete his sentence, "like a silver fish in a sea of rainbow, y'know?"
Oh, my God. What.
Natalya was stupefied at the moment, her mind at a loss on how to compute the single most stupid simile her ears had ever processed, in any language.
"I... what?"
"Oh!" The student lifted his eyebrows, "I'm sorry. You must think I'm a weirdo for not telling you my name first. I'm Alfred F. Jones, et tu?"
"Natalya Arlovskaya."
Alfred moved to sit on the table facing her, even though there where four chairs right beneath it.
"Foreign? From where? Are you the daughter of a diplomat? 'coz I've got a classmate whose parents work at the U.K embassy. He's a major pain in the ass, that one. Oh!" He punched his palm, "There are also the Lovino brothers. Do you know 'em? They're the legit twin sons of the freakin' Italian ambassador. Crazy, right? I know. One of them got mad at me for asking where they kept their mushrooms. At first I thought it was because of the whole Smash Brothers thing, but then I found out they got their room searched for actual 'shrooms."
This man did not know how to keep his mouth shut. Without even meaning to, Jones had divulged his opinion on a British student and that he had almost gotten two of his fellow students expelled for the possible possession of hallucinogenic mushrooms.
"So?" Alfred blinked, waiting an answer.
"So what?"
"Are you foreign or not?"
Ah. "Yes, I am from Belarus."
"Coooool."
"My brother is on the basketball team, perhaps you know of him?" It would be a great thing if Jones did. After all, if would mean that her brother was known by name.
"Hmmm... Ivan Braginski? The 'Risky Russkie'? But I thought you were from Belarus?"
"It is a long story."
"Any other fam?" Jones smiled.
Natalia had quickly learned that Americans liked to shorten certain words into slang form in their normal everyday speech. It was a good thing that in this instance, it was not very difficult to understand his meaning.
"Yes, I also have a sister in the medical school."
"Wow. That's pretty neat." Jones continued to smile. Natalya felt uncomfortable to have so many smiles directed at her. She was usually very good at deflecting the advances of any interested students, but for some reason, this one just wouldn't take the hint from her short answers. She couldn't just glare at him- those worked all the time, but he hadn't done anything to warrant it. Her eye caught the clock on the wall and nervously noted that she should have left by now.
"I'm sorry, Alfred. I have to go now." She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder, "It was nice talking to you."
With a quick nod, she left and managed to get past the door when the American quickly caught up to her.
"Hey, you gonna go see your bro play?"
"Yes." She walked faster.
It was no use. The American had long legs to begin with.
"Y'know," Alfred said hesitantly as they neared the arena, "I can get us near courtside, if you'd like."
Natalya paused. "Is that true?" If it was, Ivan might just be able to hear her cheers for a change.
"Yeah!" Alfred said excitedly, as he grabbed her hand to lead her to the staff entrance, "I'll show you."
And indeed he did. Natalya sat closer to the court that night than she ever had, right behind the home team bench and it was all thanks to the school mascot dancing along with the cheerleaders on the middle of the court. The angry-faced trout mascot flashed her a thumbs up and she waved back in acknowledgement. She just might learn like to like this Alfred F. Jones.
A/N: Ever notice how human and animal team mascots either have angry or stern-looking faces? And yes, the school mascot of their university is a trout. Not sure where than came from, but I wanted to make it a fish. Go Trouts! XD