Chapter Two
I Must Confess, I Sexually Lust After You. No Big Deal.
(Ryan)
"Well I think he's a liar."
"We don't know that though, Kat, we gotta investigate further."
"Why bother investigating, he's a liar."
"We do not know he's a liar until we investigate."
"I'm saving us the money AND the trouble - he is a liar liar pants on fire."
I rubbed my temples irritably. For the fourth time in less than half an hour, Katrina and Sergey were clashing. I shot a glance over at Heather, who grinned back and shrugged. Not even getting involved, she mouthed. That was Heather, though - she'd rather have bamboo splinters shoved under her nails than be involved in an altercation. I exhaled heavily and cleared my throat.
"Hate to interurpt this extremely beneficial conversation you two have going," I said, lightly as I could manage. "But we do have a ridiculous amount of work to do on this case, regardless of if the guy's a phony or not. Can we stop this? Please?"
There was an uneasy silence, before Katrina shot a resentful look over at Serge. "Fine."
"You got it," said Sergey listlessly, drooping in his chair.
Serge and Katrina, close as the two of them were, bickered endlessly on days like today. The weather was perfect; cloudless, sunny skies with warm and breezy winds. April bloomed away from the grey, sluggish month of March. The last thing anyone wanted on a picture perfect day like today was to be stuck inside of a classroom. Despite our outdoorsy start to the day, the entire PRS team (much to my dismay) felt it would be better for the groups concentration to move back inside to our homey little classroom in the Woodsworth building.
The Woodsworth, an ancient five storey structure that towered over the surrounding buildings, was where PRS called home. I searched for months back in 2001, trying to find a place for our society to take up residence, and after numerous disagreements and conflicts with the University Board of Directors, they caved. On November 11th 2001, classroom number 204 on the fourth storey of the Woodsworth was ours.
When we first moved in, the walls were dreary and the room was depressing. Even with the four 6x6 windows located on the far North and East of the space, the room was dark and oppressive. But now, nearly seven years later - seven! - the room was a thing of beauty. Wall to wall bookshelves filled with hundreds, perhaps even thousands by now, of books. Posters, diagrams, pictures and illustrations littered the walls, charts and fact sheets plastered against the once gray but now periwinkle blue surface. Chairs of different shapes and sizes facing a million different directions, mismatched tables from chem labs to living rooms to coffee houses scattered about the antique oak floors. This room, my room, I loved so much.
Regardless of if you were in PRS or not, you couldn't help but be drawn into this comfortable space. I've seen people take double, triple, even quadruple takes when they walk past. It gave myself and the rest of the society great pride to be associated with a room like this.
But within this last hour, even the cheery walls and familiar atmosphere were proving to have no effect on my friends moods. Sergey, normally laid back, was criticizing everything and everyone while Katrina, usually complacent and friendly, was critical and moody. Josh and Eilfie, more reserved and introverted than usual and the always bubbly Taddy quiet and dreamy.
I pushed myself up onto my sturdy elm desk. "We should take a break or somethin', guys. This isn't working, we're all ... er, all ..."
"Pissy grouches," Heather added helpfully.
I smiled. "As always, given with such tact."
"I do try," she said bashfully.
It got a good chuckle from the group, and the mood lightened considerably. Feeling like there was, after all, a glimmer of hope here, I made a movie to grab our current case file off pile beside me.
From in front of me, I heard Katrina's sharp intake of breath and a faint "oh man" escape Josh's mouth. Maybe it was the investigator in me, thinking there was something spooky or they saw something paranormal, or perhaps it was just plain ol' basic instinct. The second I heard those noises, I whipped my head around in avid anticipation.
But what I saw was no spirit. There was no disembodied voice, I saw no shadow man flash across the opposite wall, nor did anything particularly paranormal happen. What I saw instead, was altogether more terrifying - and more beautiful, wonderful and spectacular - than anything supernatural I'd ever encountered in the short years I've been on this planet.
It was with great surprise, great terror and even greater adoration, that I felt my heart crumple, my lungs lose all air and my knees buckle as she walked through the door of my classroom.
And in a voice so pure, so honey smooth and so eloquently splendid, Harlow Vincent spoke the words I had been waiting four years to hear.
"You must be Ryan Buell."
(Josh)
Finally, I understood his infatuation.
In a spacious room, not remarkably large nor small, the area seemed to become strangely airless. A woman of such overwhelming, breathtaking beauty, with momentous poise and who possessed unnatural fluidity in her movements had just made her way into our modest classroom.
This girl was someone I had seem so many times but had never ever spoken to. Yet, she was a girl I had heard so much about and watched endlessly for six, going on seven months now. Harlow Vincent, the 24 year old volleyball player that had our nerdy but kind little boss wrapped around her finger. Here she was, in all her glory.
And glory, indeed it was.
I had seen her from afar, but never up as close as she was today - a fact that suddenly and inexplicably made me resent our few encounters. She had long hair that fell down her back in large, loose ringlets. It was the color of raw umber, or cinnamon and it framed her face elegantly - a face so sharp but so beautiful, with skin the color of tanned ocre. Her body moved with such sleek agility, it was astounding - her physique was thin yet toned, an athlete's muscular build but with soft, feminine curves that were much more prominent.
She looked at Ryan, her eyes bright and the color of emeralds, searching his blank and flabbergasted face for some kind of recognition, some sign he realized that she was there, or perhaps knew who she was. She looked him over, with a glimmer in her eye, before taking a quick, sweeping glance around the classroom at the rest of us. She inclined her head politely, almost nervously, and brushed a stray piece of chocolate colored hair nervously back from her face.
"My name is Harlow," she said apprehensively, her voice soft and steady. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not disrupting anything."
Ryan, who's heart I swore I could see pounding painfully against his chest, gawked at Harlow before pulling his sorry ass together. He slid awkwardly off his desk, shaking his head vigorously and moving his hand convulsively up the side of his leg.
"No, no ... not at all," he said, a voice of forced calm clearly trying to override the one of deep panic.
She grinned, lips parting to reveal an immaculate smile.
"Fantastic," she said, with genuine relief in her voice. "I actually just needed to give you something ..."
Harlow started towards him, her body moving noiselessly across the normally creaky wooden floorboards. As she passed by me, I inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla mixed with poignant coconut. From my seat, I could visibly see Ryan's face go from it's normal tan to a milk white as Harlow advanced towards him. Instead of laughing like I normally would, I felt a sudden great pang of pity for him.
Because I could understand now, his anxiety, his nervousness, his ... obsession.
I could admit it. She really was rather exquisite.
(Ryan)
I couldn't believe it.
Walking right towards me, coming closer and closer with each delicate little step she took, was Harlow. I could smell her sweet fragrance, and it clouded my mind, made my heart quicken and filled my stomach with butterflies. I could've keeled over that very second, but let's be real now - that would hardly be a good first impression.
She came to a stop about five feet in front of me, rummaging through her big, patchwork bag, brow furrowed in concentration.
"I swear, I just had it two freakin' seconds ago ... God, they make these stupid things too big," she muttered, shuffling papers and textbooks around. "Ah! Here!"
She pulled out a blue notebook and small, silver pager, and looked up at me grinning. God, she really did have the most perfect face known to man ... and those eyes, sweet Mother Mary. Greener than anything I'd ever seen! Shinier than an emerald, greener than Spring grass, more beautiful than -
"They are yours, aren't they?" she asked me, cocking an eyebrow.
"Oh, shoot - yeah! They are, sorry, but yeah ... jeeze, thanks!" I said, with just stunning eloquence, just fuckin' wondrous. God, I was a such a tool. Somewhere to my right, I heard Katrina and Sergey snicker. I'd have to get them back for that later, though I didn't blame them.
She smiled, an even, pearly white one that made your heart melt right on the spot. In my humble opinion, anyways. "It's no problem at all. Sorry it's a bit muddy - I sort of stepped on it. Er .. well, rather I kinda didn't see it, then stepped on it and ended up slipping and falling on my face. But I wasn't gonna mention that."
She and I both laughed, her because of her minor misfortune, and me because I was officially talking to the girl of my dreams longer than I had ever imagined I'd be able to without professing my deep sexual lust for her. No big deal, just mind bangin' you, go about your business, talk amongst yourselves, etcetera, etcetera.
"Well thanks so much," I said. "I owe you one. You didn't hurt yourself too bad, did you?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Couple grass stains, little bit of a bruised ego. But I should make a full recovery. If not, I'll send you the medical bills."
I laughed and nodded, stowing my pager away in my pocket. "Anything you need at all, I owe ya."
She shook her head, and ran a hand through that beautiful head of hair. "It's no biggie, bud, it's happened to all of us."
I saw her eyes wander off and search the classroom incredulously. I felt as if I were frozen in time - I was surrounded by people, my peers and my friends and my students. But they seemed invisible. All I saw, all I heard, all I felt, was Harlow. I could barely focus and control myself fifty feet away, nevermind this. We were mere inches apart now. I could smell that sweet coconut, see those tiny freckles that dotted her thin, tanned nose, count every long eyelash on the beautiful face ...
See down that thin, white blouse that was just SCREAMING to be ripped off.
"This sure is one classroom you've got yourself, Ryan," she said, taking a glance around the classroom, big round eyes alight with curiosity.
"Thanks," I said, tearing my eyes away from her and grinning in spite of myself. "Took a long time to get it and even longer to get it looking decent."
"Well you've done a fantastic job," she said thoughtfully, turning her gaze back up to my face (which by now must've been the color of cherries). "I always walked past this room on my way to class, I always meant to come in. I used to take a course in one of the rooms a couple down from here."
"Family studies," I said automatically, then immediately regretting my slightly stalkerish-sounding slip.
She looked at me inquisitively. "Yeah, that was it ... were you in that course?"
"Oh, no, no .... uhm, I just, uh - "
"I was in it," said a voice from beside me. Katrina smiled politely at Harlow. "He had to drop off my textbooks a few times ... always forgettin' them in here ... I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't attached to the rest of me."
I made a mental note to grovel at Katrina's feet after all of this. Kat's a girl full of talents, and at the top of that talent list is saving sorry pieces of ass like mine.
"Ahh, I see," said Harlow, with benign little grin. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!"
"Heh, yeah, that'd be it," said Katrina. "I dropped that class barely a month in, though ... that Professor Froese was just ... "
"Insufferable," Harlow finished, with a laugh. "God, wasn't he just the worst? If I hadn't needed that class for my Psych partner-course, I would've been out of there like that."
"I've definitely found much better classes since then. Much more fun and informative," said Katrina, with a glance up at me. I made another mental note to replace Sergey with Katrina as my new wingman.
Harlow smiled at Katrina and turned that lovely gaze back to my face (which felt - and i'm sure it also looked - a little like it was on fire). "Seems like you're doing a pretty decent job here, Prof. I'd love to stop by sometimes, just see what a class is like."
"Stop by anytime!" I said so loudly and enthusiastically, it seemed to cause Katrina to jump back and Eilfie to slop water all over herself mid-sip.
Harlow laughed, a sweet little chortle that made my heart and other body parts (that shall remain unnamed, a-thank you) tingle quite pleasantly.
"I will, most definitely ... do you ever have open classes?"
I nodded. "Yeah, usually once every week or two. Actually, come to think of it, we have one this Wednesday. Please, stop by, it'd be just a pleasure having you."
She frowned, the slightest dent marring an otherwise faultless face.
"This Wednesday? I wish I could make it ... I've got a volleyball game, it's a big playoff game."
"Oh that's right," I said, with a frown I hoped looked more contemplative than completely, horrifically heartbroken. "I saw that on the notice board ... against Pacific Coast College, isn't it?"
She nodded, running a hand through her hair once more. "Yeah, they beat us last year but it's our turn this year ... we've got a much stronger team this time around."
"I've seen you guys practicing out on the campus lawns, you're really good!" said Heather, with a shy little grin.
Harlow beamed back at her. "Thanks! We got a great lineup this year ... PCC is just a bunch of men in short shorts anyways. We've totally got this."
"Well good luck," I said earnestly. "I know you guys - er, girls - will make PSU proud."
She grinned at me, and gave my arm a light pat (which in turn made it go numb and fuzzy, much like my mind and another extensible male body part that we won't mention). "Thanks, bud! I'm sorry I have to miss your Wednesday lecture ... I really would have loved to come. Honest."
My heart skipped a beat and I waved a hand awkwardly. It looked like some kind of weird cross between an Army salute and a gay man's sassy wave.
"There'll be other lectures, don't worry," I said.
She nodded. "Keep me update, please? I really can't wait to come down."
From the doorway, there was a loud "AHEM", and I peered up to see a girl, around Harlow's height leaning haughtily on the doorframe. She was pretty, blonde, tall and slim, with arrogant features and an angry face. She was looking directly at Harlow, arms folded and leg crossed over the other.
Harlow sighed, and looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, that's my pissed off ol' bitch at the door, I gotta roll."
"Oh that's okay," I said, with a chuckle. "Bitches, er - friends call."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm only going because she's buying me a dress, I swear. Anyways, it was great meeting you though, Ryan. I hope to talk to you again very soon."
Ignoring my heart that was now trying to escape it's way out of my body through my lips, I nodded and gave the least awkward and most genuine smile I could muster. Which likely looked like a serious case of chronic constipation.
"You too, Harlow. It's been ... yeah, it's been just awesome," I said, so unpoignantly it was disgusting.
She grinned, waved to me and the rest of the gang, and began to walk down to the big double doors at the end of the room.
"Oh, hey! Harlow!" I called, before I could really stop myself.
She turned her head.
"Thanks ... uh, thanks again. For my book. And. And also, for my uh ... my pager."
She winked. "Really, it was no trouble, bud."
And with that cute little wink, that sweet like walk that made her bum wiggle so sweetly and with the last little whiff of coconut-vanilla perfume, she was gone.
And it was literally all but five seconds from her departure that their jokes began.
"Wowzers, Ry! What eloquence you possess in front of women!" said Sergey, laughing raucously.
"It was just such a pleasure having you, such a pleasure!" mocked Katrina, wringing my hand jovially.
"COME DOWN ANYTIME, OH IT'D BE SO NICE, JUST COME VISIT ME!" hooted Josh, slapping his leg.
"Oh, you're funny guys, just hilarious," I said, rolling my eyes. "Go on, keep laughing. Jerks."
They could mock me all they wanted, I didn't care - I could barely even hear them.
For it was this very day that I knew once and for all, my heart belonged to Harlow Vincent.
AUTHORS NOTE:
Oh hello! You see!! It did not take me that long this time around. Well. What's a week or two. I'm sorrrry guys I wish I could update quicker and I truly am trying! I'm just a suck at speedy updates =/ Anyways! Hope you fantabulous, wonderfully sexy, lovely readers of mine enjoyed this chapter! I just wanted to write this one so you guys can kinda of see how crazy Ryan's infatuation with her is ... it's based upon my own secret crush of this guy that was in my Chem class back in grade 10. It was literally like a "Hi I'm Ella, can you please lend me your shirt I want to smell it and sleep with it and wear it and stuff cotton into it and make it into a baby o.O" kind of crush ... yeah. Embarrassing, I know. WOw, I get off topic fast ... YES. SO. The more reviews I get, the more inspired I am to type, and so on. SO! To SurriB, kcollins and Naomi Martinex - THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU, LET'S BE BEST FRIENDS OR SOMETHIN'. You helped write this chapter you wonderfully sexy beasts! I have actually already started on the next chapter, so yay me. Hope you guys enjoy this, have a wonderful fantabuloustical wooshpooshoshpigosh (I make up words when I'm excited) weekend!
LOVE; Ellah!