Archie both enjoyed and didn't enjoy his classical music class. He loved classical music, and three hours a week spent listening to it, breaking down the movements and studying how it was put together was a joy, a peaceful interlude to his hectic life, a welcome break to the sometimes visceral studying that went on in his premed classes.

However, that class contained no Clio, and therefore was bereft of any life for him, any purpose or vivacious presence that made his days worthwhile. So while he went and was diligent, he didn't look forward to it the way he did organic chemistry or physics, for example. To top it off, Wednesday was the day Clio had lunch with Lottie, Sabrina and Finn, so he had to wait until the last minute if he wanted to see her at all, which meant forgoing his usual afternoon soy latte from the coffee guy on the corner. Which meant he would be drooping by half way through the third movement of whatever they were listening to that day.

Great.

He took his seat and smiled back at the girl sitting next to him. Instead of the usual little grin, after which she turned away to assemble her things, however, today she continued to smile, a little uncertainly, as she produced a soy latte from next to her and presented it to him with a small flourish.

"I noticed that on Mondays and Fridays you usually have one of these, but on Wednesdays you come running in at the last minute without one," she said. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to, I mean, you can just throw it away if you want, but I thought maybe you didn't have time to get one and maybe you could use the pick-me-up--?" She pushed it towards him hopefully. "No?"

Archie made a funny face and accepted it immediately. "Wow, thank you, very very much, how very kind of you! I wouldn't dream of throwing it away." He took an appreciative sip. "The next one's on me, okay? What's that you're drinking there, a red zinger iced tea?"

She nodded.

Archie smiled. "Got it! Red zinger it is, then."

She smiled back. "Sometimes I like chai."

"I'll surprise you, then, shall I?" Archie teased.

She nodded happily, sipping her red zinger.

"I'm Archie, by the way," he said, offering his hand. "Archie Spencer."

"I'm Willow Cordero," the young woman said, taking his hand and shaking it. "Nice to meet you."

Professor Adebayo walked in and they had to stop talking for a while as she took attendance and talked about today's lesson, what they were to listen for as they took notes on Mozart's 23rd Piano Concerto in A major.

He knew from experience that he now had to mention Clio to the seemingly very nice Willow Cordero ASAP, or be considered the worst kind of cad in existence. To be dating someone and not to mention her existence to every female he came into contact with immediately upon meeting her was one of the worst faux pas imaginable in the world of male-female politics, and was tantamount to cheating in some circles of dating detente, he knew. He didn't exactly understand this; until and unless he asked her out or vice versa, surely no boundaries had been crossed? What was the harm in becoming friends with people of the opposite gender, as long as nothing romantic or sexual was offered up?

But apparently not; even harmless conversations such as the one he'd just had with Willow were considered minefields of dangerous flirting grenades, just lying around, waiting to go off in one's face, unless defused immediately by the mention right away and as often as possible by the existence of and undying affection for the aforementioned girlfriend.

So, as soon as Professor Adebayo turned to start the concerto, Archie turned to his new friend Willow and casually said, "The adagio of Mozart's 23rd is my girlfriend's favorite movement ever. Sometimes, when she's feeling blue, if it's a cloudy day, she'll play just the second movement, you know?"

He sat back, feeling very clever, until he saw Willow smiling and nodding, and he got the feeling that she knew exactly why he'd said what he said.

"Yes, it's one of the most beautiful adagios ever written, isn't it?" she replied, just as the violins began the vibrant first movement and they began taking notes.

He nodded back, a bit deflated.

After class, he usually stopped by the coffee shop for a bite to eat, and to go over his notes from that day's class. Today, as he sat down at the last empty table, he happened to see Willow, holding a sandwich, looking for a place to sit.

He waved, inviting her to join him. "Hey there," he called.

She smiled her recognition and joined him gratefully. "Thank god I saw you," she exclaimed. "It's really cold, and the only tables left are outside."

"I wouldn't let you sit outside," he replied gallantly. "In fact, I was going to go over my notes while the music was still fresh in my head, you want to join me?"

Willow made a face. "I think I've had enough Mozart for today, but don't let me stop you, I'll just eat my sandwich before I head off to work and be very very quiet, so knock yourself out, honest."

"Oh, no, that's okay," Archie said, putting his notes away. "I can do it tonight at home, no rush." He gave her his whole attention. "Where's work?"

Willow made another face. "Bar and grille in Midtown. Don't get me wrong, money's good, hours are convenient, tips are great, but I leave every shift smelling like charred meat, and I spend half the night playing grab-ass with drunken businessmen from Goldman-Sachs who think it's okay because they're paying for overpriced drinks from the bar, you know?"

Archie gave her a sympathetic look. With her pretty eyes and very lush figure, it probably happened to her a lot.

"I'm sorry, I really am," he said. "It must be a terrible way to earn a living."

Willow shrugged, pushing her wavy black hair behind her ears. "Meh. Someday I'll be a world famous singer and actress and I won't have to take crap from anyone, right?"

"Is that your ambition?"

Willow smiled. "Broadway, here I come!"

"I'm surprised you didn't go to University of Michigan or New York University or someplace like that?"

"I got a scholarship to come here," Willow explained. "It made Columbia more affordable than UMish or NYU or even Carnegie-Mellon. I never thought I'd be at an Ivy League school, and my family just lost their minds."

"They must be very proud." Archie smiled at Willow.

"We need a whole new word for what they are," Willow told him. "They're sitting around the table out in Reseda--you know where that is? It's the poor part of the San Fernando Valley, out in Los Angeles--trying to figure out how Willow managed to get the hell out, you know?

"What's your story, Archie Spencer?" she asked as she finished her sandwich. "Accent and clothes like you have, you're definitely not from Reseda, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Archie admitted. "I'm English."

"Not just English," Willow discerned. "I've watched enough BBC, I know my accents. You're 'to the manor born' or however the saying goes, I can tell."

"Yeah, we don't judge people by their accents anymore," Archie said with an embarrassed laugh as he took a bite of his food.

"Right," Willow said. "That's why all your MPs sound like they've had sticks up their asses since birth. So what, are you trying to tell me you're from the mean streets of working class Liverpool?"

"No, I'm from North London," Archie admitted.

"Went to a nice school?"

"Harrow."

"Oh brother!" Willow waved a hand in his face. "Then where? Or did you come straight to Columbia?"

Archie shook his head. "Then Cambridge." He bit his lips together.

"Right. Then?"

"Then UCLA, which is a state school!" Archie defended himself. "Then here."

"Posh, through and through," Willow accused, shaking her head. "Which is nice, don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with that, I don't know why you're getting all embarrassed, Archie!"

"It's not my fault, anyway," Archie continued. "My brother became rich and famous when I was young, and between him and my family, I didn't really have a chance, you know?"

"Who's your brother?"

"Heath Spencer." He watched for her reaction.

"Oh, right, the singer." Willow nodded. "You do look like him, don't you?"

"That's the understatement of the century," Archie responded, rolling his eyes.

"You ever worry that your girlfriend only likes you because you're related to him?" Willow asked.

Archie shook his head, grinning. "Not something you have to worry about when your girlfriend's last name is 'Santangelo,'" he responded.

Willow's eyes widened. "Clio Santangelo is your girlfriend?"

Archie nodded.

"I heard she went here, but I didn't know what she looked like or anything. Wow. Yeah, I guess she wouldn't need anything from you, would she?"

Archie shook his head. "She's set for life, and then some, I think."

"So I'm rubbing elbows with celebrity royalty," Willow said. "Sharing a table with Heath Spencer's brother, who's dating Pete Santangelo's daughter? I'm moving up in the world. Go me."

"That is so not funny."

"It's a little bit funny, come on." Willow nudged Archie.

"Anyway, I gotta dash or I'll be late for work," she continued. She pulled out a brush and quickly did up her hair into a very tight, very professional French braid.

"Nice to meet you at last, Archie Spencer," she said with a wave good-bye. "See you next week."

Archie noticed at least three guys checking her out as she walked out of the coffee shop, and wondered if she had time to date.

Now, the second half of the dating etiquette required that he tell the person he was actually dating about the pretty girl he'd met and talked to ASAP, he knew that as well; otherwise he was guilty of something tantamount to cheating on his girlfriend. He would talk to Clio later, because she always facetimed him after her lab was over and she got in bed for the night.

Again, Archie didn't see what the big deal was, because he had no intention of doing anything with Willow, but he knew that not telling Clio was one of the worst things that he as a boyfriend could do, and he was determined to do everything right where she was concerned. Just thinking about Clio made him warm inside, and just thinking about losing her made him feel physically ill. He never believed that people could meet the ones for whom they were intended at such a young age; indeed, he didn't believe in "intended" people to begin with, until he met Clio. He figured you just goofed around until the urge to have a family overcame your urge to goof around. Then you looked around for someone you figured you wanted to be faithful to, and you made a go of it.

Then he met Clio.

And now he knew what all the love songs and poems and novels were about. He would die without her, he believed.

And he hoped she felt the same way.

He headed home to get the music appreciation out of the way so he'd have the weekend free to do something with Clio.

The love of his life.