Elizabeth

Two months from now

I inhale deeply. My chest rises, cold air fills my lungs. A feeling of uneasiness slithers down my spine. I turn my head in all directions, my eyes focused, attentive, doing their best to take it all in and register my surroundings.

The masquerade ball seems splendidly regal; everyone around me is lavishly dressed, adorned with jewels and masques. Couture dresses slightly brush the floor and sparkle as the light dances amongst sequins, crystals, and diamonds. Tuxedos are perfectly pressed, gentlemen are holding their ladies and feet sway all around me to the rhythm of the music.

The classical style castle-like house is full, and the muffled voices are distracting. The reverberating sound echoes in my ears.

I can almost see Poppy from the corner of my eye. Other than her, I don't seem to recognize the others. I feel a light buzz. I close my eyes and open them again.

In the back of the room, facing me, there's a shadow. Yes, certainly a figure. No, a man. A very tall man, lean in figure, long legs and arms, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, although the face is not clear. Details are just a blur, and I cannot seem to see through the accessory hiding his features. He is walking towards me, and I feel a sudden inexplicable urge to dart in his direction; butterflies are restless in my stomach. Something about him lures me in.

Now

Oh, the noise. What is this god-awful noise?

I open my eyes and a piercing sound invades my head making it boom like it's about to explode; the alarm clock is ringing nonstop. It's probably been going for a while now by the look of the sun gleaming through my window. I bury my head in the silky pillows for a second before deciding to take my chances and look at the time. Jesus! Is it eight-thirty already? Elizabeth, your luck is just not here today.

Miss James is going to kill me; I'm extremely late for class. Why did I have to sleep in on the day she is presenting our semester assignment worth more than half of our grade?

I jump from the bed straight into the bathroom and brush my teeth while trying to put my platinum blonde hair into a semi-presentable hairdo. By that, I mean a charmingly scruffy bun. I don't do hair and I use hair pins, many more than I probably need. I curse myself for not paying attention or practicing more all those hairstyling videos that I love watching; apparently, they would be very handy on a day like today. I do a double take at the makeup barely there from last night and decide against fixing it.

Stumbling my way through my unorganized-but-still-very-much-organized-to-me room, I find the clothes I need, get dressed in seconds then head out.

Halfway through the corridor, I realize that I forgot my bag, phone, and books. I am really something else. I go back inside, put my keys into my Balenciaga bag along with my phone and IPad and leave.

Once in the elevator, I notice that I look much better than I feel or expected to look, and all in under twenty minutes. Kudos Liz, maybe you are not such a mess after all.

My phone beeps with a message from Poppy: Where you at, girl? James is already here. It appears she is excited and arrived a bit early. When I look at my watch again, my happiness deflates.

I text back, I will be there in 10. Hold on. Tell James.

Miss James is by far the best professor I have ever had. Last year, I was ever so lucky to get accepted into one of her classes, and attending it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I was mesmerized instantly by the eloquence and intelligence she showed during her lectures. I also thought to be quite quirky the fact she enjoys being called James, not Miss James, but James alone and didn't disclose the reason. She is still young, but very serious. Maybe due to her age, she feels she has to be a bit more formal than others; maybe it's because she's British, not sure.

On the ground floor, I race through the gardens towards my car and consider actually racing all the way to campus. Maybe 10 minutes running in full speed? I ponder. Nah. I quickly decide against it; sprinting is too much work, and it will worsen the damage already done to my hair.

I truly despise driving in New York, the amount of cars in traffic is outrageous; that's why my beautiful 1963 red Porsche 356 B is collecting dust in my garage, but neither public transportation nor town cars will help me today. I jump into the car and hit the gas.

Five minutes later, I am parking outside my Literature class' building. I hurry to my classroom, and when I arrive, the group is already divided into pairs. Shit. I look at Poppy and she shrugs like saying sorry, there was nothing I could do. I shrug back. It's ok really, can't be mad at her when it's nobody's fault but my own.

She has the most piercing blue-gray eyes, and when you look into them, you can't be mad at her. There is not a thing I hate about my best friend, except the fact that she has this cool name that sounds like an English jetsetter socialite, while I am named after Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. No hate there. Elizabeth Bennet is a legend and definitely one of the best female characters ever written; be that as it may, the name is so classic and carries so much weight. I hate people using my full name--just Liz will do. I linger at the door and hesitate a little too much when James notices me.

She raises one eyebrow. "Miss Acker, are you planning on joining us anytime soon?"

"Of course, Miss James. I just wanted to apologize for my tardiness." My voice quavers as I fumble with my hands. "You see, my alarm clock did not do its job in waking me up today and..."

"Do not fret, dear. It's all right; Miss King has told me all about it. Take a seat, please. I'm afraid most people already have a pair for the assignment, but for Mr. Brooks. Why don't you find a seat next to him over there?" She speaks quickly, trying to be objective. Even though she looks impatient, she seems amused. By what, I couldn't tell.

I have never heard that name before. "Mister...?"

"Go on darling, and sit down." She brushes me off, however, pleased with herself, and carries on talking about whatever she was before I interrupted her class.

Looking around for the enigmatic Mr. Brooks, I see a man all by himself, deep in thought at the end of the classroom. I come closer and see beautiful sparkling green eyes locked on me. While making my way towards him, he opens up the brightest of smiles with dimples on one side. I am infected and, without thinking, smile back. His smile certainly is contagious. He sees me and stands upright. I take a good look noting every detail. He is tall, perhaps 6'2", maybe even taller. He has long arms, not full of muscle, but not thin or feeble either. Dark brown hair just a bit blondish on the baby hairs and... I am still processing when I'm interrupted.

"Hi, I am Mr. Brooks, but you can call me Axton," he proclaims and smiles showing his single dimple while giving me a once-over.

Even though I was walking in his direction less than five seconds ago, I'm taken by surprise. His tone is deep, and I hear a possibly English accent.

"Hi, I'm Miss Acker, but you can call me Liz." It's my turn to look him up and down now.

He looks inquisitively at me. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes, but everybody calls me Liz, and I prefer so." Reinforcing, just to make it crystal clear: call me Liz.

He answers, "Ok, Elizabeth." and smirks. I roll my eyes. The nerve on this guy.

"Liz." I pronounce it slowly so he understands the message.

"Elizabeth, it seems like we got a lot to do and you have quite a lot to catch up on. Here..." He says changing the subject quickly as if bored already by this exchange of words.

He goes on and shows me his notebook with his messy notes. Drawings on the side and lyrics are scribbled all throughout the margins. I do my best to ignore the fact that he has been calling me by my full name, which is considerably hard because it truly sounds good when he says it.

After a while, I finally understand what we have to do for the project and when the class ends, Axton runs up to me. I am already walking with Poppy as we have some shopping to do; her dad is throwing this sumptuous party in a few days, and I have to help her find the "perfect dress to win Josh back"--or something like that.

Axton looks at me. "So, your place or mine?" I look over at him and his black Chelsea boots. Fuck, that is hot. They go extremely well with his black skinny trousers and dark silk bomber jacket.

"Sorry?" I probably look so shocked Poppy snorts a laugh.

Axton looks at her, brows knitted together, his body tense, then softens his gaze and relaxes his shoulders when he looks at me. "Yes, we have to strategize, only the classes won't be enough."

This guy might be audacious and bit obnoxious, but he surely has style. Of course, the fact he is drop dead gorgeous might help.

He has a point, but I have plans. I look at Poppy apologetically asking her what I should do. One brief look at me, and she knows what I mean; silent conversation is our thing. She winks in approval.

I give in. "I know a very good cafe around the corner, would you meet me there in twenty?"

He seems satisfied and mumbles something in the lines of "I'll be there before that" and walks away. Poppy seems amused; she is waiting expectantly for details. There is nothing to say, is there? I guess it was just my luck I got paired with an incredibly hot, somewhat annoying English guy.

__________

When I enter the cafe and smell the coffee, I feel at home. Although feeling unsure about Axton and the whole project, this place eases me; maybe that is why I chose it in the first place. Something about the smell of a fresh cup of joe and the glamorous décor, furnished with Art Deco pieces, comforts my soul.

I notice him sitting in a booth in the back, and lift one finger to signal him to wait for me. I need coffee. After a morning like this, this is surely the solution. Oh, and maybe going back in time and not being tardy for class.

I arrive at the booth, with my cup in hand, and see him sitting in front of two coffees already. "Wow, are you on your second one?"

"No, that one was for you. I thought since you were late today you might not have had coffee..." He looks at the cup in my hand unsure what to do, probably regretting the whole good deed in the first place.

Oh. I take the second cup from the table. "I can handle both. That is very sweet of you. Thank you. It was a harsh morning today, I am still stressed," I blurt out at once.

A smile creeps up on his lips, and suddenly, I don't feel like going back in time and choosing my own partner anymore.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, and he nods. "How come when I arrived you didn't have a partner at all?"

"Oh, I don't know." He shrugs. "Briar is very demanding. I mean, she ordered us all to sit with people we didn't know, but in reality, I don't know anyone in the class anyways... So this girl sat by my side and Briar told her it wouldn't work and asked her to move--"

I interrupt him, "Briar?" I say with raised eyebrows. I don't know what to think of this intimacy. What is this? Is he fucking the professor? Great, I am stuck with the pet.

"Oh sorry. I forget people don't know me here. Miss James is my stepsister."

I nod and try to hold my surprise.

He continues, "See, my mom married her dad some years ago. We were living in London when she got this opportunity to come here to teach; she just took it and moved. I stayed at the time, though."

I listen attentively, but he is done. Axton doesn't seem comfortable talking about himself, therefore that is all I am getting from his personal life for now. I wish I could learn more, but I decide strategically to go back to a safer topic.

"Why do you think she asked the girl who sat beside you to move?" I can't stop. I am so curious about this man.

"I am not sure, a whim maybe?" he says furrowing his bushy, dark, extremely attractive eyebrows.

"There must have been a reason." I push further.

He smiles, crosses his arms and leans closer. "Are you defending her? You know she is not listening to us, right?"

"No, I just believe she wouldn't do this for no reason at all." From this close, I can clearly see his dimple on the right side sinks deeper than the one on the left. He looks up at me with his twinkling eyes, full of bad intentions, and I can feel the blood running straight to my cheeks, making me blush. Control yourself Elizabeth. Keep it together.

He looks deeply at me and takes a moment. "Is she a favorite?" Then, leans on the sofa observing me.

I feel embarrassed. It feels strange admitting it to her half-brother whom I barely know. I nod shyly.

"I understand. She likes you too. I sensed she was pleased when you sat next to me. She probably thinks you will be a good influence or something."

Color me confused. "How? I am a mess. Last semester I had Introduction to Literature, with her as the T.A., and I handed in my work so late, I have no idea how she accepted it or how I passed at all. Also, it was so poorly written, Shakespeare must've rolled over on this grave," I say putting one hand on my forehead.

He throws his head back and cackles. "Are you always so dramatic?"

"Often."