Wow!! Was that the door? I thought when I heard a loud creak and then a slight slam. Who could be coming into class this late? I glanced at my watch; the class was already almost an hour in and someone was just now gracing Professor Haddish with their presence? How rude.
Looking back, I saw the familiar strawberry blonde doll that I had encountered an hour before in the parking lot of the cafe. Was she in my class? I couldn't help but chuckle as fate kept giving me signs that this was going to be an interesting semester.
She looked around the room and noticed a seat two rows down from me. Her petite frame took its place between other girls; though attractive themselves, they didn't hold a candle to her beauty. I observed her as she nervously took out her textbook and turned her phone on to record. I had the best seat in the place. I could see her, but she had no idea that I was there. I could tell by her actions that this was her first class, maybe even her first year. There she was looking all academic with her pens, paper, and recorder, when most of the rest of the class was almost asleep from boredom.
Was she an academic as I was? Was she interested in Anthropology as well? I would make it my mission to find out. Actually, I wanted to find out as much about her as I could. Given her attitude toward me before class, I wasn't sure that she would allow it. What exactly had I done or said that had caused her to be so dismissive of me without cause? Did I want to find out? Was I up to the challenge? Hell yes. A resounding yes! Whatever this girl had, I had never seen it before. Was it charisma? No, I didn't think so. Was it sensuality? Maybe, but I had very little experience with relationships, so it was hard for me to tell. I didn’t waste my time with girls who were self-centered and caught up on the latest Snap filter. That was why it was rarely reported that I was involved in a relationship or photographed with women. My time and energy were too valuable to be wasted on someone who didn’t have the same goals as I had. No, this was a woman. A woman I wanted to get to know better. She was different.
Professor lectured the class, and I was sure it was interesting, but it was as if my mind and body were in two different places. He was saying something about gold, West Africa, and something else, but all I heard was the sweet voice of the kitten in front of me who had brushed me off earlier.
Snap out of it, man! My god, you act like some kind of stalker staring at the poor thing.
I had to mentally talk to myself to keep from daydreaming about this mystery girl. I knew she wasn't royalty or the daughter of someone famous because she was driving an old beat-up car. Surely, no one with any amount of money would be seen in something that had dents in it and was probably in production before she was even born.
No, she was someone who had actually earned her way into this place. She was a hard worker. She had to be extremely intelligent as well because only the upper crust of society attended Whitby unless their grades and test scores were high enough. Wow, beautiful and intelligent. That was a fantastic combo. How could I get close to her? What could I do to get her to talk to me on a different level? There must be something I could say to get her to come around and be nice.
I suddenly heard my name called. I had been so out of it while salivating over this mystery girl that I missed what Professor Haddish had been talking about.
Oh God, what did he just say? Why was he calling on me?
I would have to wing it. What other choice did I have?
“Yes, Professor?” I asked as if I’d been paying attention all along.
I heard chuckles from my peers. What were they laughing about? What had he said while I was far away in lala land with Miss X?
“Prince Harrington, did you hear the question?” he asked in his stuffy, uptight voice.
No, actually I didn't hear the question because I was trying to think of ways to get Miss X to talk to me. Would you mind repeating it, you uptight, old crank?
“No, sir. I'm sorry. Can you repeat it for me? I was lost in thought about the gold caravans.” I did my best to cover my lack of interest in anything that had to do with the hot girl with the curly hair.
“Actually, Prince Andrew, my question was about the gold caravans. I asked if you could tell me the country where it all ended.”
He gave me a look of vexation, and I knew that I had messed up. I didn't really care. At that point, all I wanted was to know this angel in front of me. I wanted to feel her long curly hair on my bare chest. I wanted to touch her lips with mine.
“Sir, I can't. I must have missed that part. I am quite sorry. I will listen more closely next time.”
It was all I had to give him. The truth. I hadn't been listening, and I wasn't going to just make up an answer. What if it was the wrong one? How stupid would I have looked then? Probably as stupid as I looked now, by not paying attention at all.
After deciding I had better listen up to what was being lectured by the professor, than to what was being done two rows down, I began taking notes. I couldn’t fail the test or get an unsatisfactory mark. I had to ace it like I had been doing since I first set foot in a classroom at four years of age. I had never gotten a bad mark in my entire educational experience, and I didn't intend to start now.
After thirty minutes passed, Professor Haddish announced that we would be doing a project that would take the semester to complete. I was thrilled. The thoughts of doing a dig or something similar was right up my alley. I was in my wheelhouse, so to speak, with this project. I couldn't wait to hear what it was.
“You will be paired up, two by two, and I expect everyone to do his or her part on the project. No one is to put all of the work on the other person. This is going to not only show me that you know what you are talking about on the particular subject of your choosing, but that you can work as a team as well. Part of Anthropology is working with others to find treasures buried in the earth. I expect nothing less than professionalism and courtesy from you to your partner. If anyone comes to me and says they are doing all of the work, that slacker on the team will automatically receive a failing grade for the project. This project is worth 200 points toward your final grade and must be presented on the final day of the semester. Are there any questions?”
I considered the project and hoped that I would get paired up with my best friend Clayton. He had a love for Anthropology as well, and I knew that he and I could really present something great.
I listened as Haddish called the names and each student moved to the one they were paired with. Clayton was paired up with Alistair Griffin, my nemesis. That guy was so good at everything he put his hand to, including women. I had never felt as good as he was. He wasn't royalty, of course, but it didn't matter—he had charm and charisma. He could get a girl into bed before she even knew what he was saying. I always envied his talents with the ladies. His father was heir to one of the largest watchmakers in history. Alistair was rich, handsome, and a snob. I couldn't believe that Clayton was stuck with him. Judging by the look on my best friend's face, neither could he. I shot him a grin and chuckled as I thought about how lucky I was to not have been paired with that prick.
“Prince Andrew Harrington and Eliza Noble,” I heard Haddish say.
I didn't recognize the name. Who was Eliza? That was when she turned to me, her eyes locking on mine.
Did I just hear him correctly? Had I been that lucky? Hell yeah!
My lucky day!
Of course, the look on her face was none too pleasant. She was livid. Was she still burnt over the coffee? Her car trouble? Where was her sense of humor?
I was going to get to the bottom of it. If we were to work on this project together, and she was bitter about me, then she might tell Haddish that I didn't work on my part just so she could get out of working alongside me.
No, this wasn’t going to happen. I had to be as polite to her as possible and find out what her problem was.
Chapter 4
Eliza
Did I really just hear my name called right after Prince Andrew Harrington? I hoped no one saw me roll my eyes or heard me
let out that sigh of disgust. I turned to look at him, and he was busy looking around the room for who he was paired with.
Hey, pillock, look down here; it's me!
His eyes finally met with mine, and he smiled. I could feel my skin crawling at the mere mention of our names in the same sentence. I couldn’t believe that I’d have to work with that snob. What could I have done to deserve fate being this cruel to me? Ugh, I hated spoiled brats. This was going to be a very long semester. I knew one thing for sure—he had better pull his weight and do his part, or I would tell Professor Haddish he was a slacker. He wasn’t going to think that I’d do it all and he’d skate by on my hard work and pull out a great mark at the end of the semester. Like hell he would.
After gathering my books, I looked up at him once more and saw him giving a fist bump to some guy who was dressed in a pink button-down shirt and black pants. Probably one of his rich, snobby friends who drove a Bentley or, better yet, was driven to class each day by a driver who needed his boorish job just to put food on the table for his family.
That was when I remembered my broken down heap of scrap metal was still sitting in the parking lot at The Pour Pauper, needing a tow. That I couldn’t afford.
Oh my God, what a day!
First, my car, then my entire semester ruined because I’d have to babysit a prince for four months. What else could life deal to me that would cause me grief today? I dared to question.
Gathering my books to leave class, I suddenly thought of a solution. Making my way down front, I took a deep breath before speaking.
“Professor Haddish, my name is Eliza Noble,” I said.
Without looking up from his books, he spoke. “Yes? What may I do for you?”
His deep tone and the patches on the elbows of his suit coat made me think he needed a pipe between his lips. I could almost picture him at home in the evenings. After dinner he would retire to his study, with his gray cardigan and his pipe that smelled of menthol flavored tobacco, his brandy snifter, and a stack of papers that he wasn’t too fond of having to grade.
“Yes, Miss Noble?” he looked up at me. “Was there something you wanted to say, or did you just want to introduce yourself to me?”
Wow, what an ass. His tone was sarcastic and uncalled for.
“Actually, there is something that I’d like to ask.” I straightened my posture and set my books on his desk. That drew a look of displeasure from him, and I quickly picked them up.
“Um, well, you see…” I could feel myself getting nervous. More nervous, I should say.
Men like him intimidated me. It all started with my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Sherlock. He was a brooding man who wanted to be anywhere else but in that classroom every day. His displeasure for his career led to frustration which was then transferred onto the students. I made up my mind then and there that I was going to be a teacher. I would teach children, encourage them, and teach them to enjoy the process of learning.
“I'm waiting, Miss Noble. I haven't got all day.” He was stern.
“Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry. I was wondering if you would please reconsider my partner for the project?”
There, I said it. It was out. Now it was just up to him to deny my request or approve it.
“Why? Do you not get along with the Prince?”
“Um, well, actually, I don't know him,” I said, hoping that would suffice him.
“Well, this is a perfect time for you both to meet and get to know one another. Nothing better than a project that requires teamwork to teach you how to work as a team.”
“But, Professor…” I managed to say before he cut me off.
“Miss Noble, you must learn how to work with whomever you are paired with. There will be times in your life when you are at a job and you have a coworker you may not be particularly fond of. You cannot go to the boss and say that you don't want to work with this individual. If you did, then that would make you appear whiny. So, to answer your question, no, you may not have another partner. It is Prince Andrew and yourself. It is up to the both of you to work out whatever differences you may have and present, on the last day of class, a project that will get you the grade which you deserve.”
I was bummed. All I could do was look at him. Really? Did he even care about my problem? No, he didn't. He was right, though. There would be times in life when I couldn't just choose who I wanted to be around and work with, so I may as well suck it up now and learn how to deal with it.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“Huh? Oh, yes. I'm sorry,” I stuttered.
I turned around quickly, eager to get away from the grouchy professor, when I saw the Prince sitting in the front row. He had been listening to me the entire time. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Ugh, now I had to explain things to him. This day would have to get better somehow.
“Hey, Eliza, is it?” he asked, a cocky smirk on his face.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Andrew Harrington.” He thrust he hand toward me, and I reluctantly accepted it. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Eliza Noble. I assume you heard all that.” She motioned toward the professor’s desk then rolled her eyes.
“I did, but I’ll assume you still have a stick in your ass since you’re morning started off poorly.”
“How dare…”
“When would you like to meet to discuss what project we are going to do?” he dismissed, which pissed me off even more so.
His question was valid—we did need to meet and figure all of this out—but his demeanor was as arrogant as I expected him to be. Damn Royals. Prince Drew and I came from very different worlds.
He had come from lavish luxury and a silver spoon in his mouth. I had come from a wholesome middle-class family in Luton where my parents worked hard to put food on the table and keep a roof over our head. We didn’t struggle often, and we had the necessities to get by … until we didn’t. My father worked for the tabloids and covered developing stories on the Royal family for as long as I could remember, from front-page political headlines to silly gossip page turners.
Two years ago, he was covering the visit of the Nishitonis Royal family. It was a monumental event as the Nishitonis family hadn’t visited London in many years, but they were adamant about keeping their family out of the press. Their arrival sparked a large crowd that was uncontrollable among commoners and the media. My father, daring to snap only a few images for his article, images that would be sought out from eager news stations worldwide, was tackled to the ground by three large men, his camera confiscated, but that was the security team’s only concern. Not that they had injured him.
My father was left with a broken leg and crushed collarbone that required surgery. He was unable to work for eight months, and my parents had to use what little they had saved in my university fund for medical bills. That was why I worked so hard to pay for university, because I refused to allow one unfortunate event in my life to knock me down. It proved to my parents that I was responsible and mature and ready for the real world. Luckily, my father had been back to work for a while now, writing editorials for the newspaper rather than chasing the exciting lifestyle stories and pictures in the field. That one event changed our family’s dynamic and caused enough pain and agony. There were too many could-have-beens to forgive those actions. It would be a grudge I’d likely forever hold.
“Excuse me, Ms. Noble. I do have a busy schedule of classes today. Can we meet up and talk about the project, or should I plan to complete the project alone?” he asked again, and I snapped my eyes up to meet his. There was something about Prince Drew that annoyed me to no end.
As much as I wanted to scream: No, I’m getting out of here, I simply couldn’t. I brushed the infuriating thoughts away and focused on the project.
“Yes,” I said with a sigh. “When did you want to meet with me?”
“How about now?” he replied instantaneously.
“Now?” I questioned. “I thought you said you hav
e a busy schedule?” I goaded, and he quirked his brow. Ah, I understood. He imagined he could just snap his fingers and have things his way. Hell no. “I can't. I have to figure out what I'm going to do about my car before my next class.” My tone was calm, but my voice was laced with irritation.
“Still broke down? You know, you should really get it to a garage soon. I’m sure the radiator is cracked.” I laughed to myself. Like the Prince would know auto mechanics. “I can give you a ride if you’d like. Anywhere you want to go, just name it and I'll take you. It will give us time to discuss what we're going to do for the project.”
I took a deep breath before plunging headfirst into my speech. If we were going to be thrown together by fate, or Haddish in this case, then this Prince was going to hear my ground rules.
“Okay,” I said as I brushed my hair from my face. “I have some rules that you will follow if you work with me. If not, then you need to go to Haddish and tell him that we cannot work together. Maybe he will listen to you,” I said in a huff.
“Rules?” he questioned gently. His tone was different—interested. Intrigued. He was willing to listen to me. He seemed softer than he had earlier. Not that he was rude or anything. Maybe it was just how I perceived him to be instead of actually listening to him to see how he was. He laced his fingers together and relaxed them in his front. “Carry on. Tell about your rules, Ms. Noble.”
“Alright, you don't know me. You know nothing of me, but I am a very hard worker. I worked for two years every day, weekend, and all summer long just to have enough money to come to this university. I studied endlessly to ensure that my grades were such that I would be awarded as many scholarships as I could get. I rode a bicycle to and from my jobs each day because that was how badly I wanted to come here. I didn't get in on my father's or my mother's name. I actually worked to get here!”
I was full steam ahead. There was no stopping me now. I wanted him to know that I was the real deal as far as academics, and I wasn’t going to be taken down by some snotty rich kid who probably couldn't care less if he made it or not.
Royal Academy Page 2
