Wonderment- Chapter 13

ADAM'S POV

There were no classes today. What a relief! Stretching in bed, I realized that the sun was streaming through the window that looked out onto the balcony. I turned to my pocket watch, which was resting on my side table.

"11:30. Not so bad for sleeping in. I've done worse," I muttered cheerfully.

As I proceeded to the washroom to wash my face, I gritted my teeth at the realization that my manhood was throbbing. I had been dreaming about Belle in that skimpy barmaid outfit. I sighed as I proceeded to deal with my erection.

But my thoughts of Belle were not solely erotic ones. Although she didn't know it, I had followed her that night to make certain she got to her dormitory safely from the library. Saying that I was worried for her was an understatement. The way she had panicked after that horrible customer manhandled her made me wonder if I should have pressed further on insisting she take the whole week off.

A few minutes later, I turned to the mirror, noting that my eyes were clear and that I wasn't hung over. I had gone easier than usual on the drinks yesterday. I hoped fervently that Belle was all right after her ordeal. Just the thought of that asshole manhandling her, sending her into tears, and that son of a bitch Gaston taking advantage of her naiveté and good nature set me on edge just remembering it. I threw the towel hard into the basin, fuming at what they had done to Belle.

I wish she knew that the cloaked man was me. Then she would know that I would always be at her side, her rescuer, her protector. However, it would crush her, and she would be utterly devastated. There was so much I knew about her as the cloaked man - things she probably didn't want the real me or anyone else on campus to know.

And yet, she had told Gaston many of these personal things about herself, which still confused me. It saddened me that Gaston was the only one she confided in, which must prove only how desperate she was for someone to talk to.

With me, she rarely confided anything. Why? I did not know. And yet, when I was a complete stranger to her, she somehow felt comfortable enough to tell me anything and everything. Why couldn't she talk to me as ME? Was she ashamed of telling me her social status? Perhaps I had gloated too much of my own high-ranking status, I thought remorsefully, remembering when she had come to my large private room and I had inquired why she and Ariel were sharing such a small one.

"I shouldn't have said that," I remarked out loud to my reflection, wanting to slap myself for my insensitivity.

Holding her in my arms last night – not just once but several times - was the highlight of my week. In disguise, I had worked with her on the sonnet project, though she didn't know who it was that was really helping her. As I combed my hair, I smirked in the mirror, remembering how I had instinctively gotten defensive when she had complained about lazy partner - me. I did some stretches and flexed in the mirror, a nonsensical exercise that had become part of my morning routine.

It occurred to me that I was huge compared to Belle. Would I crush her if I ever made love to her? The thought of her below me excited me and scared me all at once. I did a couple of push-ups and then strode to the armoire, pulling out my clean shirt and trousers.

Fridays meant there were no classes, so there was time to catch up on studying (if you cared about grades) or to have fun (if you didn't). Normally I was in the latter category, but today I decided it was time I get serious with Belle on the project. When I was in my cloaked disguise, she had confided that her "partner" was slacking off and being of no help, and I had to admit she was right. It was time to rectify that and pull my own weight.

The idea filled me with anticipation. If she thought last night's act was impressive, I couldn't wait to show her how much I truly knew of Shakespeare.

I went downstairs and headed to the campus coffee shop to grab a cup on my way to see Belle. When I got on line, I saw a familiar brute ahead of me telling the clerk, "A large black coffee, and make it strong!" He looked exhausted. Last night had clearly taken a toll on him.

"Gaston?"

His head snapped up to meet my stare-down. Taking his coffee, he tried to walk past me without speaking. But I held out my arm, blocking his path. "What you did last night wasn't right!" I warned. "Making Belle serve those animals!"

"Well, what you did wasn't right either!" he grunted.

"That man got what was coming to him!" I snapped. "He grabbed Belle and spanked her -that's totally out of line!"

Gaston didn't meet my eyes. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad!" he said defensively. "So a guy got drunk and slapped her ass. Big deal - it happens all the time. It's just part of the fun of coming to my establishment, flirting with the barmaids. The girls are all used to it, and it's no big deal. You had no right to attack my customer! If I hadn't been in the West Wing at the time, I would have stopped you. I don't condone your actions!"

"What the hell? You sound like a dean, 'condoning my actions', pshhh!" I scoffed. "Your usual barmaids may understand that - but Belle is not your usual barmaid, and further more she's my personal server. You went back on your word through a loophole in our bargain! We had an agreement! Besides, men shouldn't the barmaids – not just Belle, but any of them. It's out of line!"

Gaston cocked one eyebrow. "Spoken from someone who used to slap barmaids on the ass all the time?"

"I've changed."

"Why? A certain brunette twisted your sense of fun?" he smirked.

I glared at him. "And it wasn't just that,either. When I intervened, that jerk had her trapped on his lap with one hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream, and the other hand reaching under her dress. He was practically raping her right at the table! Do you 'condone' that?"

"Shit," Gaston said, taken aback despite himself. I knew he hadn't seen what had happened, or how bad it had gotten for poor Belle.

But being Gaston, he refused to admit he was wrong, and instead turned the blame on ME. So typical of him!

"Whatever happened was your fault for being late!" he snapped. "If you want to have one of my barmaids personally serve you, you have to be there at 10:00 sharp, because that's when Belle's shift starts. Otherwise, she's just sitting around doing nothing while the other girls are working, and it makes me look unfair!" He glared at me. "Yesterday was hell for me. You were late, and I had barmaids complaining that Belle gets special treatment. Two quit on me last minute!"

"Well...that might be so. But forcing her to wear that skimpy uniform the other barmaids wear was out of line," I defended.

"That wasn't my doing! That was Erica and Monica. When I saw Belle, it was after the whole debacle. Seeing her in that outfit when I entered the kitchen surprised me, and trust me, I gave Erica and Monica a good talking to," he protested.

I said nothing. I could see and sense now his frustrations from last night. I could empathize with the fact that he had a lot on his shoulders with managing the tavern. Truly I was madder that Belle was put in a situation that could have been avoided altogether, but for the sake of my friendship with Gaston I decided to drop it. It was honestly that ass of a man who spanked Belle that needed to be blamed.

"Look, Adam, if you can't tell, I'm dead tired! I had a lot of customers last night and not enough servers. As for Belle, I don't want her on the floor again, but I was overwhelmed last night. I didn't need someone in the kitchen or on the dishes; I needed someone to serve drinks. It's just frustrating! You don't know how it is to run a business! I give special treatment for her and special treatment to you! Who is she to me, anyway?"

I eyed him, suddenly putting two and two together. We had known each other long enough to know when things didn't turn out the way the other had wanted.

"You still like Belle," I realized out loud.

He looked up and frowned. The look he gave was enough to confirm that I was right.

I shook my head. "Gaston, you usually get over things fast. I mean, you could have any girl you wanted!"

"No, Adam. I liked her. She never reciprocated my approach at the dance, and she's brushed me off since then. For the first time a girl rejected me!" Gaston sounded outraged. "And yet, she STILL expects special treatment! Why? She certainly isn't giving me any special treatment!"

"So to get back at her, you threw her in the middle of chaos?" I said through gritted teeth.

"I don't take rejection well, I guess," he admitted remorsefully.

He never did. I still remember when we were young boys how we'd go hunting or fishing. Gaston always gloated over his successes. However if I ever caught a fish bigger than his or hit the bull's eye during archery target practice, he'd be in a sour mood the whole day. Gaston was a sore loser. He didn't know how to lose well or to win well either. He would brag for hours about his successes and relish pointing out the downfalls of others. It was those moments, when he triumphed over my loss or shortcomings that reminded me to keep my distance from him. He wasn't a foe, but he wasn't a close friend either.

"What makes you think you could have treated Belle well?" I challenged. "Gaston, you go through women like they're disposable!"

"I would've treated her differently," he fumed. "And look who's talking about disposable! Let me remind you about Aurora. Remember her? She was beautiful, royal, and sexy - and you threw her to the side like a ragdoll! How is Belle any different from the rest of your past romantic escapades?"

I shook my head. "Belle is different. What makes you think I'm not already treating her differently? There's something special about her. And she likes me, I can feel it. Last night I felt it when she read out loud to me and when I held her," I continued.

Gaston snorted. "Do you hear yourself? She doesn't like you - she likes the 'man in the cloak'!' Probably just because he's mysterious. She has no idea it's you. If she knew, she'd probably be devastated," he scoffed.

"That's why you won't tell her! Swear it on our years of friendship and our success yet to come!" I demanded.

"Don't get your trousers in a knot! I'm not going to say a word," he grunted. "As much as I loathe the fact that she is showing interest in you - whatever form you are in - I'm not stupid enough to let our business partnership go down because of it."

"Do you intend to also keep your word by not putting her in harm's way again?" I demanded. I wanted to make sure Belle was to be taken care of.

He sighed. "Yeah, I won't do that again. I'll hire more staff if I have to. Look, I know I was a dick! I need to apologize when I see her next time," he stated. "Is...is she okay?" he added worriedly as he rubbed his neck.

"She was very shaken up and scared, but she's all right now," I told him. "But I wouldn't do that again. She has a history of asthma, and she was severely hyperventilating."

"I know, I fucked up! They say jealousy is a green eyed monster. I sure was a monster last night," he lamented.

"Big time!" I agreed.

He glared at me threateningly. "Look, just don't fuck with my business, Adam. You come in on time from now on! I've done you a lot of favors," he warned. "Be fair to me too."

I nodded in agreement. He swallowed the last of his coffee and headed out.

I didn't like his tone. I still was an annoyed at what he had done to Belle, and I wasn't entirely satisfied by his show of remorse, but it was enough for now. We had reached perfect understanding at this point.

I still felt that Gaston was not completely content with the fact Belle was not reciprocating his interest in her. Even worse, it was me (although disguised as the man in the cloak), his lifetime competitor, whom Belle was beginning to fall for. I'm sure it bothered Gaston like hell that it was me, whether Belle knew it or not, because for once he had lost a target and that rarely happened.

Gaston and I don't normally go after the same type of girls. We both have different tastes. However, Belle was not only beautiful, she was brilliant, and she just exuded warmth when she entered a room that drew people to her. It was the first time Gaston and I were attracted to the same woman. Probably because any man, and every man for that matter, was attracted to Belle.

As I continued my way down to Belle's room, I rolled my sleeves down to my wrists, making sure I had hid the tattoo well. As I came upon her door I knocked on it three times. The door opened to reveal Belle. She looked beautiful. Her hair was down and loose over her shoulders to her bosom. I always saw her with her hair tied back, but she looked much more natural and sexy this way. I resisted the temptation to reach out and gently push back her soft, shiny hair.

"Adam," she greeted me as she opened the door.

"Hi," I replied sheepishly as I rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm sorry I haven't been as available as I should have been to work on the Shakespeare assignment." Her eyes widened. Was she that surprised that I apologized? I guessed my arrogance had been more apparent to her than sincerity as of late. I went on, "But I'm here to tell you I'm definitely free now and would love to work on it! Whenever it works for you as well, of course."

Belle smiled. "I was just getting started on the project. Your timing couldn't have been better. Why don't you come in?"

"Sure you want to let me in?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. Typical banter between her and me by now. "It's fine. Ariel's out at the moment. I hope you don't mind, but I picked a sonnet already."

"Oh, did you?" I asked innocently. "It wasn't by any chance sonnet number 18, was it?" I smirked as I plopped myself down on the bed.

"Why, yes," she said, surprised. She closed the door and turned to face me. I saw a look of scorn cross her face - probably because I had made myself at home on her bed. "Do you know it?"

"Do I!" I exclaimed. I cleared my throat and proudly recited the first verse loud and clear, with such eloquence and animation that I thought I was giving the performance of my life.

"Hmm. Nicely done," she stated without any affect.

I was disappointed. I hadn't been nearly this good yesterday when I only recited the first two sentences in my secret identity. But today I had given it my all...yet she didn't seem nearly as impressed as she had in the West Wing.

"Anyway, I would love to turn the sonnet into a play, was my thought," I suggested.

"But…that's so simple," Belle said dismissively as she closed her book and sat on Ariel's bed across from me.

"It's going to take some work to write it all out," I protested. "Hardly simple."

"No, I mean the idea. It's not grand enough," Belle said. She thought about it, toying with the ends of her hair and curling them in her fingers.

Placing a finger on my chin to think, I slouched back on her headboard. To my relief she didn't chastise me for getting too comfortable in her bed. I tried to think of another idea, but couldn't. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"What about a newspaper article?" she suggested.

"An article? Saying what? 'Get it while it's hot?' 'Lost love?'" I grunted as I shook my head, dismissing her thought.

"Well, do you have anything better?" she huffed, standing up.

I stood up too, meeting her gaze at her level. "I told you my idea already: a play," I retorted.

"You're not helping!" she exclaimed.

"You're not really adding anything either!" I argued.

"Ugh, why did I have to be partners with you!" she huffed.

"Alphabetically, remember-" I started. But suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Belle, did the professor assign partners by first name or last name?"

Belle took a step back, perplexed by the inquiry. "First name. So?"

"If that were so, wouldn't Ariel have been assigned my partner?"

Belle's eyes widened. She looked as if she was in deep and utter shock. I caught her. Her true name was indeed Arabella.

She caught my gaze and referred back to the sonnet book, pretending to be scanning the pages even though I know she was trying to change the subject.

"Is Belle even your name?" I asked. Obviously I knew the answer already, but I wanted to test her. Would she ever tell the real Adam - in the flesh, the one standing before her – anything? "What about your name? What are you hiding?" I pressed.

"Nothing! What's the big deal? Maybe the professor skipped around on the list a little," she said dismissively, turning away.

I touched her shoulder and turned her to face me, holding her shoulders ever so gently. I tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. She looked perplexed by my gesture. I realized my proximity to her must have seemed inappropriate and quickly stepped back in an effort to make her less uneasy. To ME, we were already close friends, since she had shared so much with "the cloaked man." But to her, I was just an arrogant classmate she had no interest in.

If only I could change that...

"Just curious, is Belle possibly short for something?" I tried hopefully.

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Maybe...meaning yes?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"What?"

She sighed and gave in. "Arabella."

"That's beautiful," I said, smiling.

She smiled back. "Thank you." She looked relieved for some reason.

"Why was it so hard for you to tell me?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't know," Belle said. She chuckled self-deprecatingly as she sat back down on Ariel's bed. "I used to get teased a lot because of my name. 'Arahead' was my favorite. A play on words for airhead," she smirked as she looked down into her book

.

"That's not nice," I said with concern.

She looked up. "I know. I was… well… I'm used to it." She shrugged as she went back to her book.

"Sounds like some of the people back from your hometown didn't appreciate you, huh?" I inquired.

She closed her book and put it to the side on the bed, looking in my eyes for the first time. I took that as a good sign. She crossed her legs and offered me another subtle smile. "My vil- my town. Where I am from, I was considered very odd because I was often a loner. The truth is I loved reading more than anything. I'm from a small village in France where they feel that women who read books and don't care about clothes, appearance, or marrying into a good family are odd. Girls my age right now are either getting engaged or are already married. But I wanted more than just being a housewife and mother, although those are roles I'd love to partake in eventually. After I follow my dreams and get what I want of course."

I was intrigued. I plopped on her bed again across from her. "What do you want?"

Belle looked surprised. "No one's really ever asked me that before," she admitted.

"I'm asking you, Belle. What do you want?" I pressed on.

"Well..." She looked hesitant, as if afraid I might laugh. ""It may sound trivial. But we only have one small school in my town. So I'd like to open a bigger one, and get more girls enrolled, and teach. I'd like to help more girls become educated."

"Why, I think that's a thoughtful idea and a profound dream," I said encouragingly.

"You do?" She eyed me as if making sure I was serious.

I nodded in reply. "There's nothing more admirable than changing people's lives."

"Yes, but to go to university only to go back and teach? Is that not a waste?" She laughed uneasily.

I smiled to placate the uneasiness I was sensing from her dismissive laugh. "It's never a waste," I assured her. "You'll go back a scholar. You'll have more knowledge, more skill, more credentials, and more fire under you to use as leverage in your battle to give more women the opportunity study. That's something grand, Belle. Really, you should be proud of what you're striving for."

She smiled shyly and took the sonnet book in her hands again.

"By the way Belle, you're not alone."

She looked at me questioningly.

I explained, "You have a friend in me." She smiled. I could sense something in the room, something new between us. It wasn't tension exactly, and it wasn't anything negative; in fact, it was the exact opposite. It was a feeling that we had just made a connection, and the feeling was intense.

A little self-conscious, I tried to cut the intensity. I apologized for pressing her about her name, for just the other day it was ME who had requested that we not ask too many questions of each other. "Now look at me – prying into your life!" I laughed apologetically.

"It's okay, Adam, she said with a smile. "And thank you...for your friendship." We gazed at each other for a long moment. Then she seemed to shake herself. "Now back to the assignment-"

We got back to the project at hand and decided to go with a play ABOUT a newspaper article, so both of our ideas could be used, and the angst that would surround the article in regards to the people involved. In the midst of all the planning, Belle and I shared a few laughs and had a couple of heated disagreements. But nothing a good cup of tea wouldn't fix, and we rang for tea twice that afternoon.

"Oh, my, it's 9:00! I'll be late if I don't hurry!" Belle said as she glanced at her clock. She jumped up, then rubbed her eyes and gave a big yawn. She looked adorable the way she stretched out her arms and closed her eyes, as if she was about to fall on a bed of clouds.

"I guess I'd better go. Seems like you have another engagement," I suggested as I got up to walk toward the door.

Belle quickly said, "Oh, no, it's nothing! What I meant to say is that it's late, and I need to go to bed early so I can make it for this …uh…seminar tomorrow out on the quad." I nodded, pretending to believe her although I knew what she was referring to really being late for work.

I knew I would have to get ready very fast to make it to the tavern on time. I wouldn't want her to get into trouble on account of my lateness.

"We got a lot of work done today, Adam. It makes me feel like we will be a good team after all!" she said.

I nodded feeling the same way as well. I helped myself to the door, "Good night Belle."

"Good night Adam," she replied from her chair.