A/N:

Hello! Just a quick note!

I have changed Juliette's English instructor's name to Garrett (it was Ben). You probably don't remember his name anyway, but just in case, I wanted you to know why. In my other book, Heaven in 1997, there is a character named Ben as well, and seeing as there is also a character named Daniel in that, well, I don't want another character of mine to have the same name as one in another work. I just love the name Ben so much, but there will be a Ben in my other book, so...

Okay. Okay. Read on... ;)
I'm sorry!

It was late Saturday morning, and it had just stopped raining.

Juliette slept in this morning, which was rare for her. She usually begun her Saturday mornings by tidying up the house and then watching a favorite show on Netflix before her brother took over the living room.

She could watch a show on her laptop, but it just wasn't the same. There was something about laying on a couch and wasting away in front of the bright glow of a large rectangle that just could not be replaced.

She also could stay at home and do her homework in her room and do all necessary online assignments and research on her laptop as well, but there was also nothing that could replace the feeling that being at school or on campus created within her. It helped to put Juls in the right mindset since, from time to time, her mind was too much adventurous, and rebellious, for her to control in the comforts of her own home.

She needed the setting of academia. Actually, she preferred it to any other setting available to her.

Juliette often dreamed of being trapped in a library as a small child. She could think of nothing better than that. 

Such bliss to open up your eyes, having lifted your head up from the big pillows you took from the children's area downstairs, and seeing what seemed like endless shelves of books and volumes perfectly put in order surrounding you in their quiet and matured presence. All sorted alphabetically and according to genre or subject. The thrill alone of such order and perfection was a dream as is for Juliette.

She parked her silver 2010 Nissan Altima into a student parking spot and got out of her car, being careful to not drench her sneakers by stepping into the large puddle beneath her. Her book bag was snug on her back and her crossbody purse swung lightly next to her hip.

Juliette brought up her student ID to the side of the library door and as the tiny light turned green, she heard the subtle click behind the heavy door and pulled it open.

This was her paradise.

Quiet. Study. Books. Computers. Research. Printers. Paper. Ink.

Students reading and learning and typing and thinking. Librarians whispering and searching and waiting and assisting.

The smell of books and paper and ink. Books being opened and pages turned. Sheet after sheet of someone's hard work and time coming out of the printer.

This was the type of pleasure that could only be sought in a building expressly built to hold information, knowledge, and all manners of storytelling and stories.

Juliette actually got giddy as she pressed the up button of the elevator. She wanted to go up to the third floor to where the study rooms and long tables and research volumes and journals were. She found that floor to be most effective for scholarly behavior and intention. The other day she had scouted for such a location and she was happy to have found it.

She could have easily taken the stairs, but the elevator added a feeling of importance that added to Juliette's overall joy of the entire experience.

Later on in the day she had already made plans to see Krista. She knew now was the time to study and get some work done, because once she was with Krista, it would be time to put her pens and paper and laptop away.

Krista's kind of fun was very different from Juliette's.

Once she had gotten off the elevator, Juliette found a long dark wooden table at the center of the floor. It was empty and she walked over and placed her book bag on top and hung the strap of her purse on the back of her chair. She got out her supplies: pens, notebook, folder, pencil and eraser, highlighters, and laptop.

She opened her laptop and turned it on. As she turned her notebook to a blank page, she began typing and looking over at her syllabus for her Art Appreciation class. She had her eye on a essay  that would be due in less than four weeks. She wanted to go ahead and get a good start on it. Her other classes would surely get more involved, and she figured she may as well get a head start on something.

Of all the twentieth century artists, Mark Rothko's work captivated her the most.

The colors of his works really called out to Juliette. They were more than just colors to her--each rectangle of color was a mystery. Feelings and images came to her easily when looking into the depths of each block.

She quickly became engrossed in her research of Rothko and began to write some notes on her notebook paper and brainstorm about what exactly her essay would encompass regarding the lifetime work of such a fascinating and, ultimately, melancholic artist. Her eyes had started to grow wet as she learned more about his life and vision and scrolled through his works.

"Are you all right?" a kind voice asked. It sounded familiar, confident, and concerned.

Juliette's eyes fluttered and she wiped away the tear that had fallen down her cheek.

"Oh, I'm okay," she said quietly, not having looked up just yet.

"I just saw that you were crying and I wanted to make sure--" he said and her eyes trailed upwards and flickered with recognition. It was her English professor, Garrett.

"Oh, I'm really all right. I was just looking at something really sad."

She felt silly. Another tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She caught it with the back of the long sleeve of her lavender shirt that she had pulled down to her knuckles. It was rather cool in the library that morning.

His eyes flickered with recognition as well. And something else. He smiled and said, "You are in my Advanced English Composition class, aren't you? Room 117."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry. It's only my second year here as an adjunct professor and I am horrible with names. I am teaching three courses this year. What was your name again?"

"Juliette. Juliette Wakelin."

He put out his hand, "My name is Garrett Wheeler," he instantly shook his head and his cheeks flushed, "You, of course, already know that."

They shook hands anyway and Juliette waved her pen in the air. "What are you doing here? I mean, I'm only a freshman, but I don't think it's a regular occurrence to see professors in a building meant for students."

"Firstly, I'm not actually a professor. I hope to be someday, though. Secondly, I just moved into a new apartment and it's been a real pain in the butt trying to get my wi-fi hooked up for some reason. A guy is supposed to come on Tuesday. So," he opened his arms and looked around the floor, "I am stuck here. I have work to do, and I don't mind the free wi-fi."

"I love the library," Juliette said. She looked at his hair. It was damp. It must've started to rain again outside.

Garrett's glasses were also wet. As if he had noticed as soon as Juls had, he took them off and rubbed the lenses with the bottom hem of his shirt. Just as his did so, Juliette noticed a line of bare skin above the waist of his jeans. She clicked her pen shut and swallowed. Her hands went to her hair and she began smoothing it down.

"Well, mind if I join you?" Garrett asked.

"No, go ahead."

Garrett put his glasses back on and set his bag on the floor. He retrieved his laptop from it and as it started up, he titled his head and asked, "What made you so sad, Juliette?"

"I was trying to decide which twentieth century artist to write about for an essay I have due in Art Appreciation. I came across one who just struck me."

"Ah," he said. "I see. Who?"

"Mark Rothko."

"My mother loves his work. I do, too."

"Oh, really? It's sad. Very sad. He was only 66 when he died."

"It is sad when people go before their time, isn't it?" He had begun typing into his laptop but he looked into her eyes as he spoke to her.

She noticed they were blue, but a very deep blue, almost navy. His dark hair was damp and weighed down and hung in small strands in front of his tortoise shell glasses. Every time he tried to brush the damp strands away they fell down again soon after.

Finally, he took both of his hands and combed his hair back with his fingers a few times. With his straight light brown hair out of his eyes and off his forehead, Juliette could see the delicate line of his brows and the square shape of his handsome face. He was clean-shaven as well.

She tugged at her long sleeves.

Her parents were taken before their time. She had an urge to tell him that, but she thought better of it. She should not tell him something so personal about herself so soon. Should she even be conversing with an adjunct professor outside of class or office hours anyway? Or was this normal on college campuses? Garrett is the one that came up to her first.

"Yes. It's tragic," was all Juliette said.

Garrett's eyes then pierced into hers. There was something he wasn't telling her either.

"I'm grading some online assignments right now. Not your class, don't worry," he grinned.

"I hope I did all right."

"I'm sure you did just fine," with that he returned to his work. He was typing away quickly and this urged Juliette to get back to her own work.

It was as if they had known each other for a long time.

She felt at ease around him. Also, it was nice to look up from her notes and see his face, lit overhead by the fluorescent lights. His eyes had this way of squinting, in thought, as he read. He would pout his lips as well.

Juliette smiled.  It was not awkward at all for her to have Garrett sit across from her in the library. If anything at all, it made her work that much harder.

A/N:

Hello, most lovely of all readers,

Where is your favorite place to study? Do you like it to be quiet?

What is/was your favorite subject?

What do you think of Garrett so far?

Have a wonderful week!!

XO,
Leanne

P.S.  I have attached Daniel Johns' "Cool on Fire" because, well, why not?! And Juliette made me do it. She sure is somethin', lemme tell ya. And so is Daniel Johns...
;)