by Sable Sylvan
There were hushed whispers. What the heck was Prof. Bingley up to?
The professor tapped his cane on the floor once, and everyone shut up.
“Thank you,” said Prof. Bingley. “Now, I will be pairing you up based on who you are sitting next to right now. Whatever seat you chose will be your seat for the semester. Let’s get to it. We’ll start on this side of the room. Please announce your name and major to the class, and a fun fact about yourself.”
No frikkin’ way. There was half a chance that Addy would be stuck working with Sage and a full chance she’d be stuck sitting next to him? No changes would be made, so either she had to drop the class, which was unthinkable, or endure the torture that was sitting next to a man that simultaneously frustrated her and made her heart flutter.
Names were announced, books were assigned. Addy watched as everything from The Picture Of Dorian Gray to The Castle Of Otranto was announced, and finally, as the pair next to her announced their names and accepted their assignment of Middlemarch, her heart sunk. She knew that she was resigned to her fate.
“And you are…?” asked Prof. Bingley.
“Oh, sorry,” said Addy.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Sorry,” said Prof. Bingley. “You want to give that another go?” The class laughed.
“Addison Quincy,” said Addy. “I’m an English major from America, here for my second junior semester.”
“Oh, an American,” said Prof. Bingley. “Been a while since we had one of those. We’ve practically got a United Nations here. And your fun fact?”
“My sister owns a hot sauce company,” said Addy.
“And what is it called?” asked Prof. Bingley.
“The…Feminine Mesquite,” said Addy.
“I’m sorry, did you just say…” started Prof. Bingley.
“The Feminine Mesquite,” said Sage. “Sage Scoville. Music major, English minor. Junior. My fun fact is my brother is the CEO of The Feminine Mesquite.”
“It seems the Scovilles are not merely content with making history, they’re interested in learning about it, too,” said Prof. Bingley. “Well, we won’t be covering the Eddic poems or even Beowulf in this class, Sage…and I mention that because your brother Herb did ask, as did your father. Do make sure your paper’s runes are set to twelve point, will you? And do break that nasty habit of yours, the interrupting. It’ll be the death of me, Sage, truly.”
Prof. Bingley looked at the list of books he had left. He’d had so many years of having to deal with Scoville antics, from pranks on April Fool’s, which had made him look like an absolute noodle, to indeed receiving a paper written in the Elder Futhark runes of the Scovilles’ Viking ancestors. Fate was smiling on Prof. Bingley that day, and he called out the title of the book that he knew would make this situation even messier than it had to be, and even more entertaining for him.
“Congratulations, you’ll be presenting on…Pride and Prejudice,” said Prof. Bingley. “Next! Please, introduce yourself to the class, Miss…?”
As Prof. Bingley moved on, Addy sat there in shock. She wasn’t sure whether she was more thrilled to have received Pride and Prejudice as her assigned book, or whether she was more upset she’d be stuck with Sage and his ‘sage wisdom.’
* * *
Addy got dinner with Minnie that night before she headed upstairs to her room to study. She was taking a Gothic Literature class, an advanced class about Jane Austen, and a French class, and luckily, Minnie was taking French, along with Portuguese and Norwegian, because Minnie was a linguistics major. They were going to be great study partners. When Minnie took a call from her parents in America, Addy saw herself out and went upstairs to her room.
The room was decorated just as she’d wanted, in the style of an English cottage, very Jane Austen meets Virginia Woolf meets Beatrix Potter. She started to do her readings for class when she heard something. It was the sound of a piano.
Addy got up. Had Clove left his music on when he had gone to study? The track started over again, and she heard a sigh.
What the heck? Was the Scoville suite haunted by a ghost with a stereo?
Addy went into the living room. The sound started again, and it was coming from Clove’s room.
Addy walked to Clove’s room and knocked.
“Hello?” said Addy.
“Come in,” said a voice.
Addy opened the door.
That’s when Addy realized she hadn’t opened Clove’s door. She’d been outside of Sage’s room.
Sage was sitting at a piano, jet black. No sheet music was on the piano. Sage was sitting on a leather bench. The dorm room was big enough to fit not only the massive polar bear shifter, full of Viking blood, but all the furniture that was in Addy’s room, plus the piano, with room to spare.
“Can I help you with something?” asked Sage. “Scared of the dark?”
“Sorry, I thought Clove left his stereo on,” said Addy.
“Nope, just me,” said Sage. “Was it distracting you?”
“No, it’s pleasant,” admitted Addy. “Is this part of your major requirements? You play the piano on the weekdays, practice guitar on the weekends?”
“I’m shite on the guitar,” said Sage. “Piano’s my game. I’ve been playing ever since I was young.”
“And your grandpa is okay with you being a music major?” asked Addy. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re a music major. You don’t care what anyone thinks. You just do your own thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Sage.
“Come on,” said Addy. “A bad boy playing the piano?”
“Who said anything about me being a bad boy?” asked Sage.
“Whatever,” said Addy. “Sorry to bother you. I should be getting back to studying.”
“You doing the readings for Bingley’s class?” asked Sage.
“Yeah. I’m reading The Castle Of Otranto,” said Addy. “It got assigned in my Gothic Literature class as well.”
“You didn’t start on Pride and Prejudice?” asked Sage.
“No, I’ve read that a million times,” said Addy. “I know it back and front. That assignment will be easy peasy. It’s my favorite book.”
“I’ve never read it,” said Sage. “Isn’t it girly?”
“I don’t know, is true love and fated mates girly?” asked Addison. “Haven’t you at least seen the movie versions?”
“They always get some big, hulking shifter, stuff him in a suit, and pair him with a stick thin waif,” said Sage. “I’ve seen the posters. The movies don’t appeal to me, but the music is…passable. Anyway. That’s how you know its fiction.”
“Because the music is okay?” asked Addy, confused.
“Sit down,” said Sage, motioning to the silver chaise lounge behind the piano. Addy walked in and took a seat. Sage’s room was surprisingly different than she’d expected.
“What do you think?” asked Sage.
“Of what, the music?” asked Addy.
“No, my room,” said Sage. “I’m usually busy practicing, but I’ve collected some posters on my travels.”
“So, you do travel,” said Addy.
“Of course, I do,” said Sage. “You have to travel to hear anything worth hearing. Moscow’s got the ballet, which has a great orchestra, and of course Italy’s got their opera.”
“And France?” asked Addy, motioning to a picture of a red windmill.
“Moulin Rouge has a music scene,” said Sage. “Trust me. As I was saying, you know those movies are fiction because there’s no way a shifter would go for some Victorian waif. Half the time, the scullery maids outshine the heroines in those films.”
“You really think so?” asked Addy.
“Of course, I do,” asked Sage. “I know some men find it hard to keep it in their pants at the cabaret, but not me. I have some modicum of self-control…and high standards.”
“So, you collected all these posters yourself?” asked Addy. “I have t
o admit I’m surprised you’re into classical music.”
“Really? What did you think, that I’d be into Nordic death metal because I dress like this?” asked Sage, motioning over his body.
“Well…yeah,” admitted Addy.
“That’s more Clove’s scene,” said Sage. “And no, these aren’t Clove’s hand-me-downs.”
“Your specialty is really classical piano?” asked Addy.
“Romantic era classical piano,” said Sage. “Like…this.”
Sage turned and started to play a piece that made Addy feel as if she was on the moor, in some corseted dress, black, with a brooding man with brilliant blue eyes and a streak of black through his blond hair. She could feel the wind and the rain against her skin, and the heat of the man’s body against her own…
“Beethoven,” said Sage, continuing to play. “Moonlight Sonata. Can you feel the music?”
“Yes,” said Addy softly as she closed her eyes and imagined the scene unfolding in front of her…
* * *
Darkness. Glimmerings of light. Stars, a full moon, the smell of petrichor on the moor, still glimmering with what could be either fresh rain or freshly summoned dew. Her skirts, rustling against the gorse and heather as she makes her way to the figure on the moor, a figure she has no guarantee is him, but which she knows must be, a figure neither man nor woman, but merely ‘beast.’
Is there a risk, approaching the beast? Yes. What if it is some escaped tiger from the zoo, a hunter’s hound gone rabid? But what if she does not approach, and it is…him?
The clouds part, and a moonbeam strikes the beast. His fur is almost too brilliant to behold. The beast has a coat of pure white, except for sideways, along its body, a stroke of black that almost seems to cut it in half.
It’s him. Addy walks to the beast, and as she does, the beast walks toward her, the moonbeam following it until they meet.
The moonbeam disappears, the clouds obscuring the light, but when the clouds part again, the beast in front of her is no longer a beast. It’s a man, with icy blond hair, blond save a streak of black, and a Viking’s blue eyes. He’s in a coat and jodhpurs that leave nothing to the imagination, including his longing for her, and his desire to rip her bodice from her and claim her, then and there, on the moor…
* * *
“Addy?” said Sage as he came to the end of the piece. “Hello?”
“Oh, sorry,” said Addy, snapping out of it. What the heck had come over her?
“Are you okay?” asked Sage.
“Yes, it’s just…you’re right,” said Addy. “It’s quite the song. Why are you wasting your time in a class like Honors English Lit if you are such a good musician?”
“The best musicians know where their music comes from,” said Sage.
“Where it comes from?” asked Addy.
“Addy, you came here to walk in the footsteps of the people you admire,” said Sage. “Romantic music is merely a part of a greater tradition, the Romantic tradition. That tradition is covered in Bingley’s course. Also, I needed an extra elective to complete my English minor, and what better class than Bonimolean’s most famous course?”
“How do you know the reason I’m here?” asked Addy. “Did Herb tell you? Ugh. Alice and her big mouth…”
“Who do you think told Herb that you wanted to come here?” asked Sage.
“Alice, obviously,” said Addy.
“Does Alice seem like she had any part in planning this?” asked Sage. “Would your sister really ask her fiancé for such a big gift?”
“Who else would’ve told him?” asked Addy.
“Who do you think?” asked Sage. “Let me put it this way. You and Abby weren’t exactly quiet when you talked about how much you hated me talking about Bonimolean in front of you. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how to make that right.”
“You’re the one who told Herb about my dream?” asked Addy.
“And the one who set things up over here, because Clove was busy with, say it with me…his thesis,” said Sage with a laugh. “Look, Addy. I know you think I’m some bad ass…or maybe, some jackass. But for a girl who likes Pride and Prejudice, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
“A lot to learn about what?” asked Addy. What could Sage mean? A lot to learn about pride? About prejudice? About…love?
“I guess that’s the mystery,” said Sage. “Hey, if I’m going to get thought of as the bad boy, I might as well act the part.”
“Wow, switching from music major to theater major now?” asked Addy. “Ha-ha.”
“I better let you get to your studies,” said Sage. “You can leave the door open…that is, if you’d like to.”
“I’d like that,” said Addy. “Well, I’ll get back to my work. See you.”
Addy walked out of Sage’s room. Once she left, Sage started to play another piece. It was yet another piece that made her feel as if she was in another world, that made her feel like another character in another story, but the only question was, was she in a fairy tale, or yet another cheesy Gothic novel set in the English countryside? Before she could figure that out, Sage was on to the next piece.
Chapter Four
The next day, Addy and Sage had their second class together. Addy found Sage sneaking glances at her whenever she spoke up in class, and she couldn’t help but take peeks at him, too. Before, she’d thought that Sage had to be a slacker, but after last night’s conversation, she was not so sure. When she looked his way, she found that he had come to class prepared. He had new notebooks, pens, highlighters, and a volume of the book they’d been assigned for the second meeting of class (a selection of British poems). The book was full of fresh paper notes that stuck out of the edges of the book like the feathers of a peacock. Was Sage, in a way, peacocking, and showing off the fact he did care about these books to her? If so, why? Addy tried to focus on the lesson because, after all, this is why she was at Bonimolean, to take classes of the highest quality…but was what Sage said true? Was he really the reason that she was here at all? If so, there was no frikkin’ way she’d ever be able to pay him back…or apologize for having prejudged him.
After class, Addy and Sage didn’t go their separate ways. Sage walked next to Addy as they exited the classroom.
“Do you have another class after this?” asked Sage.
“Yes, but not for two hours,” said Addison.
“Got any plans?” asked Sage.
“No, not really,” admitted Addison. “When I have time to kill, I either read or explore. I know that’s kinda lame.”
“Not at all,” insisted Sage. “Have you discovered the mail room yet?”
“The mail room?” asked Addison. “No. I thought all our packages got delivered to our door.”
“They do, but if you know someone, you can get your mail faster,” said Sage. “Right now, things are busy because it’s the start of a new semester, but I’ve got an in with someone in the mail room and am expecting some new sheet music. Do you want to pick up our mail and then get a bite to eat?”
“Sure, that sounds lovely,” said Addison. “Lead the way.”
Addison was expecting Sage to walk her to the mail room. That he did, but of course, not before placing his hand on the small of her back, not curving around to her waist or moving it down to her ample hips, but placing it on the small of her back chastely. He led her through the halls of Bonimolean, in and out of buildings, until they reached the mail room.
The mail room had a counter with a bell and no line. Sage walked up to the counter and struck the bell.
“Maggy!” called out Sage.
An old, matronly looking olive-skinned woman with her hair up in a bun, with two pencils piercing the bun, came over. Sage was tall, but this woman was even taller. She lowered her crescent moon glasses and looked down at Sage and Addison.
“Why, if it isn’t the Scoville gamma,” said Maggy. “Whatever can I do for you…and your prey?”
“This is Addison, Addison Quincy,”
said Sage. “She’s my brother’s fiancée’s sister, the middle child.”
“But which brother?” asked Maggy.
“Well…my sister Alice, the eldest, and his brother Herb are engaged,” said Addison. “My second eldest sister, Abigail, is engaged to his brother Clove.”
“Ah, and now it’s time for the middles to meet, meeting in the middle,” said Maggy, pushing her glasses up. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Addy.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, too, Miss Maggy,” said Addison. “Wait, how did you know my nickname?”
“American, yes?” asked Maggy.
“Yes, but you can get that from the accent,” said Addison.
“Dragon shifter,” said Sage. “They have a way of…knowing.”
“Wait, dragon shifter?” asked Addy. “No frikkin’ way. Sorry, excuse me. I just…I didn’t know they were real.”
“Rare, but real,” said Maggy. “At least, I should hope I’m real. Wouldn’t it be a shame if I was just a character in a book or your imagination? Ahaha! But anyway, Sage, are you here for your mail?”
“Yes, and does Addy have any parcels?” asked Sage.
“I can check,” said Maggy. “Luckily, the Q’s and S’s are close to each other…apparently, even closer than I thought. Just a moment.”
Maggy went back to the back of the mail room.
Closer than I thought? What the heck did that mean? Addison looked over at Sage. He seemed fine…but his hand was still on her frikkin’ back! That’s what the dragon must’ve been talking about. Addison didn’t feel the urge to remove Sage’s hand, so she filled the silence with a question.
“How do you know Maggy?” asked Addison.
“Maggy’s worked for Bonimolean for…a long time,” said Sage.
“A long time?” asked Addison.
