First Meeting - Schooled by Love
I am a big fan of first meetings, or the Meet Cute as they are called in romantic comedies. These often set the tone for the relationship, and tell us a lot about how the couple will interact with one another later in the story. In the case of Lake Palmer and Brooke Preston, their first meeting is a little bumpy, but luckily for them, they smooth things over. When Brooke walks into the library where he works, Lake sees a tall, gorgeous redhead and is immediately attracted. Unfortunately, his unintentional leer puts her off and she overreacts.
Tucking in my shirt and running my hand over my hair, I walked over, smiling.
"May I help you, Miss?" My mama raised me to be a Southern Gentleman. It mostly took.
Her expression was chilling, making all those glib remarks I had planned to say dissipate like clouds in a stiff wind.
"If you think you're man enough," she smiled coldly. "Sure. I need to do research on human sexuality."
I gulped, thinking how I'd love to help her research the good, old fashioned way. That line of thought halted abruptly when I was the cold challenge in her icy blue eyes. She wanted me to make just one scandalous comment. She'd be all over that. Crappy as it is, I need this job, so I swallowed my tacky comments.
"Certainly," I cleared my throat and rubbed my hands together nervously. "Are you familiar with our computer catalog system?"
"Would I be asking for your help if I was?"
"Big no, Jobu," I muttered as I led her to the computers, thinking that was totally unfair. I had offered my help.
"It has listings of everything we have here, the specialized collection next door, the city library and all the college libraries in the state."
"Peachy," she sat down in the chair I held for her. "Just show me how to work it."
I wouldn't normally have tolerated her attitude, but my boss was watching me. He's sure I'm a slacker and sometimes he's right. He has this sixth sense and knows when I'm about to screw up. So instead of telling the beautiful, lethal, frigid bitch exactly what I thought of her human sexuality, I sat next to her, careful to keep my hands in plain sight so my boss wouldn't get the wrong idea.
The computerized catalog is buggy and opened up slowly. Ice Princess acted like it was all my fault. She checked her watch for the third time as it finally filled the screen. She relaxed slightly, wiggling in her seat to find a more comfortable angle. Impossible to do in these chairs. They are molded plastic and must be made a Calvin Klein model or a five year old's ass, because no one else fits. I sensed that was about to become the new complaint, so I waited impatiently for the search engine to load.
"Could we speed this up? I've got a class in an hour. I don't want to be late."
"Is it my fault it's the shittiest computer program in the history of man? Try Zen meditation, Princess. It's working for me."
Mentally kicking myself in the balls, I typed in her subject quickly, hitting the enter key harder than necessary. I could feel a flush of anger and embarrassment burning my ears and knew she could see it too. My brown hair is clipped short for the summer heat. Even with my tan, it's obvious when I blush, because I turn a nasty shade of vermilion.
A sneer of satisfaction tugged her full, luscious, lips. The first page came up on the screen. I turned to Ice Princess with a fake smile plastered on my face, giving her the shtick about how to use the system.
"Use the function keys to move between pages. There's a sheet at the base of the monitor to help you navigate. Don't use the web page back button, use the on screen commands or it will crash on you. The program is buggy as hell. If you need any further help, I'd be happy to assist you."
"Will you really?" Her tone was snotty and condescending as hell. "I doubt that."
Smiling as nicely as I could, a cold fury burning in my eyes, I forced myself to speak politely. "If it will help to speed your research, Miss, I'd be more than happy to help you."
If it will just get you out of my fucking library, I'll research your subject myself! That's what I was thinking, but I didn't dare say it. My boss would be all over that like flies on shit. He can read lips. Even if I whispered it, he'd know.
"Peachy," she said again, tossing her long, wavy, hair practically in my face.
She smelled fantastic and her top was cut to reveal way more cleavage than it was polite for me to look at over her shoulder. This girl was a walking human sexuality research project all by herself. Why she needed any books on the subject, I didn't know. Something about her made me want to slobber all over her and do nasty things to every part of her body.
I forced myself to walk away before I said or did something outrageous and got myself fired.
© 2016 Dellani Oakes