~*~*~*~ "You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely." ~*~*~*~

Glancing at the closed door of my room, I tried to talk myself out of it. It really doesn't matter. Just let it go. It's not that important. So he quoted Shakespeare… so what? I bet there are a lot of guys out there your age that can quote Shakespeare.

With a sigh of frustration, I opened my laptop, logged in, and then opened up the Web browser. After Google had popped up, I looked once more at the closed door and then typed in: Adrian Taylor.

And there he was in several pictures right under the Images section. In most of them he was wearing a tux, his dark hair messy and his blue eyes bright with laughter from some private joke. Looking at him, I began to appreciate Greek sculpture – he looked just like one of them with his chiseled facial features. I took note of the fact that he didn't appear to have a date in any of the photos, but I also reminded myself that it didn't necessarily mean anything. He could have a girlfriend tucked away in some remote corner of the world.

Scrolling down, I opened up an article about him and read it over, though I didn't learn much. His parents had died in a car crash, leaving him their entire empire. Overnight, he'd become one of the richest men in the world and the CEO of various companies. He was well-traveled, it seemed, and he had a degree from Harvard, where he'd graduated with honors with a degree in economics. I couldn't help but wonder where his love of reading – especially classical literature – had come from. Maybe one of his parents had encouraged it? Or maybe he had just picked it up on his own.

"Phoebe!" my mother's voice called, startling me into dropping the laptop off of the side of my bed. "You're going to be late!"

A glance at the digital clock on my bedside table told me that she spoke the truth. Taylor – my family's security man, not Adrian – would be waiting for me in the car. "Coming!" I called and jumped off of my bed, scooping up my laptop so that I could put it into my backpack. And then it was a mad dash into my bathroom to make sure that I looked presentable.

I wore a black skirt, pink blouse, and wedges. My dark brown curls were pulled up into a high ponytail and while my makeup wasn't the best, it was at least okay enough to wear to school. After spritzing on just a bit more perfume, I rushed down the stairs. Mrs. Taylor was waiting at the bottom with a banana and a cup of yogurt, and I grinned at her and snatched it as I went by. My parents were waiting near the front door, my father to leave and my mother to say goodbye. I kissed her and then dashed out the door and into the waiting car, where I tossed Taylor a CD.

He put it in and then smiled when the first track came on. "Nickel Creek today, Miss Grey?"

I grinned back at him as I adjusted my backpack so that it could sit on the floor. "I was in a folksy mood."

My father smoothly folded himself into the backseat beside me and nodded at Taylor, who took off. When I graduated, I would get my own car, but until then, Taylor took me to school and my father usually rode along. "So, someone missed breakfast this morning."

My father had grown up hungry in the earlier part of his life, and he was always all over my mother and Ted and me about eating enough. But being me, I had to be snarky. "I eat challenges for breakfast, Father."

He gave a small half-smile of amusement. "Let's hope that doesn't give you indigestion."

"Studies show that no real harm comes from skipping breakfast," I told him even as I peeled the foil off of my yogurt.

"And do you believe everything you read?" he asked me.

"Yes," I replied seriously and then pretended to consider. "Well… unless I read it backwards. Then I get suspicious."

He rolled his eyes and chose not to dignify that with a response. Both of my parents had a sarcastic sense of humor, but my father tried not to encourage it too much, even though it seemed to happen anyway. "Have you made any headway on deciding on colleges?"

"I was thinking about just going for visits to all of the ones on my list," I told him and finished off my yogurt. "We'll have to do that soon, though. It'll be a pain in the rear, but sometimes in life you just have to have a sore rear."

Amusement shone in his eyes. "We can make it happen. Get me a list of dates and I'll take care of it. Please tell me that Stanford is on the list."

While my father was all about me going to an Ivy League college, he would really rather me stay close to Seattle. I knew that part of that was because I was his baby and he hated to see me go, but I knew that an even bigger part of that was his need for control, especially over those that he felt the most responsible for. "I've already told you that I don't want to go to Stanford." I ticked the colleges off on my fingers as I named them. "Yale, Harvard, NYU, Columbia, and Princeton."

He made a face. "Not Princeton. And why NYU? It's the only college on your list that isn't Ivy League."

"I like New York City," I explained.

"They don't have a Space Needle in New York City," he told me, as if I wasn't already aware of that fact. "You know, Seattle has a perfectly acceptable university."

I refrained from rolling my eyes. We'd had that discussion before. "Dad, you know I don't want to go to college in Seattle." I wanted to add, I want to get away, because I knew that would only hurt his feelings. It wasn't like he was a terrible father – he and mother had always loved Ted and me unconditionally and gave us everything that we needed. They'd been strict when they needed to be, but we were ultimately a loving family.

Ted had said it best when he sat me down to tell me that he'd gotten accepted at NYU and that he was planning to go. "Phoebe," he'd said, "I can't stay here in Seattle. I need to get out and see the world, away from Dad's protection. Everyone in Seattle that knows I'm a Grey… it's just too much pressure for me here. I want to move to New York City and start over, become who I want to become." I hadn't really understood then, but as I approached my senior year in high school, I began to. Being a Grey certainly had its advantages – as I had known since I'd been born – but it also had its disadvantages.

My father frowned, but luckily received a call right about then from his head IT guy. As he took the call, I stared out the window and listened to Nickel Creek, thinking about the coming days and what they would bring. I knew that it would be hard for me to leave the protection of my parents' home and Seattle, but I also knew that it was something that I needed – and wanted – to do.

Finally, Taylor pulled up outside of my school and my father put his call on hold to lean over and kiss my cheek. "Have a great day at school. Learn something."

"I will," I responded and stepped out as Taylor pulled open my door. After my backpack was securely on my shoulders, I gave him a quick hug and then headed towards the building. People were milling about in the commons, talking and laughing and carrying on. I looked around for a bit and then headed inside, knowing where I would find Sarah.

Sarah wasn't crazy about reading, but she'd gotten into the private school by way of an essay that she'd written over To Kill a Mockingbird. Since then, she'd felt as though she owed some sort of loyalty to books and libraries. Hence the reason that she volunteered at the library. Well, that and her parents had told her that she needed to volunteer somewhere.

Sure enough, I found her in the library, sitting at a table by herself, flipping through a magazine. Probably Cosmo. As always, she looked exceptionally cute, wearing a green dress that showed off the curves that she possessed. Her hair was perfectly curled, makeup looking professionally done.

I slid into the chair opposite her and offered her a small smile. "Morning."

"Yes, it is," she sighed, turning another page in her magazine. "I had to skip my morning coffee and I am feeling it."

"The day hasn't even started," I informed her quite unhelpfully. "Maybe Dr. Pritchett will wake you up in AP Eco."

She groaned and put her head in her hands. She absolutely hated our AP Microeconomics class. The teacher was quite boring and math just wasn't her strong suit. Math wasn't really my strong suit, either, but at least I had my businessman father to help me. "I hate my life right now. Is there any chance that I could come down with something horrible and have to miss first period?"

"Not a good idea," I warned her. "We're having a guest speaker today, which means there will be a quiz tomorrow."

Again, she groaned. "Kill me now."

"Sorry," I said and stood, shouldering my backpack, as the first bell rang. "Like my father, I am firmly anti-firearms. Come on; let's get this over with."

On the way to class, she gave me a running commentary about how much she hated the class, which wasn't exactly new information for me, but at least it kept her awake. By the time that we arrived at class, she seemed to be ready.

Dr. Pritchett was waiting by the door as always, wearing that same deadpan expression and a horrible suit. He was an incredibly smart man, but he had no common sense whatsoever. Of course, as soon as we were out of his earshot, Sarah began to harp on his fashion sense. This continued up until the time that the bell rang, indicating that all students should be in class.

Dr. Pritchett took roll in his monotone voice, and then stood in front of us and began to speak. "Today, as you may recall, we will be having a guest speaker. He is running a bit behind today, but that's all right because I wanted to talk to you all. I expect the utmost respect to be given to our speaker. Treat him as you would me. Is that clear?"

Before it could be made known that everyone understood, there was a knock on the classroom door and Dr. Pritchett went to answer it. As he opened it, Sarah tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and she was rolling her eyes, smiling. "I'll bet you ten bucks that it's some old, hairy businessman."

"I'm not an idiot," I whispered back. "There's no way in hell that Dr. Pritchett is going to be able to get a speaker that's actually interesting."

"You mean someone handsome?" she asked me, eyes a bit unfocused. "Someone with espresso hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen in my entire life? Someone like that? He couldn't get someone like that?"

Confused at her sudden change in demeanor, I turned back around in my seat and caught sight of our guest speaker for the day.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Adrian Taylor and I'm going to speak to you all for a brief moment this morning."

Oh. My. God.