Title: When First We Met

Author: Smallvillian

Disclaimer: Most characters aren't mine

The air was crisp and cool. The start of fall brought with it the usual clamoring of young, eager minds milling past, headed off to who knows where in the guise of burrowing out their own little niche in the world. College was supposed to be a time of fresh independence, of finding one's own way in the world, beginning a new life. So why did it feel so much like the opposite?

Martha Clark sat as she did every day studying notes written just an hour before, crossing T's and I's, glancing up every now and then at the world that buzzed busily around her until the clatter nearly died away and classes began inside the buildings she watched from her bench outside. This was always a good time of the day for her--no class to rush off to, no errands to run, just time alone with her thoughts and her work. They were often fine companions, though the conversation was sorely lacking.

"Hey, Jonathan, we're all going downtown for some pizza, you wanna come?"

"Nah, I'm gonna catch up on some studying. Exam next class."

Well, so much for quiet and thoughtful. Laying her pen down, Martha looked about for the two voices that had abruptly broken through the quiet she so enjoyed only to find that perhaps she should bring her nose out of her books more often if what met her eyes was what she had been missing all this time. Oh my.

"You sure? We're all gonna hang out for a while."

"I'm sure. I'll catch you later."

He had a rather nice voice, too, she realized, now that she could place each with their owner. Denim, flannel, and gorgeous sat just a couple of yards away, stretched across a bench as if it were his own personal lounge chair, taking in the noonday sun. Sleeves rolled to the elbow. Feet kicked up like he hadn't a care in the world. It was only when he turned and smiled at her, taking a bite of an apple he'd pulled from his small paper bag, that she realized she had been staring--and rather blatantly. Had there been a hole nearby, she most certainly would have crawled into it. But her books would have to do.

Pressing on with a chapter on federal law as though it were the holy writ, she was nearly halfway through the third branch of government and its role in the "checks and balances" system when at last she conceded to the fact that a certain attractive opportunity was not going to stop knocking at her subconscious until she answered the door.

What exactly was the problem? This young man was handsome. He seemed nice enough and he'd smiled at her...so she'd ducked into her books. That's right, girl. Just ignore him. That'll teach him. God knows you've had a full enough life so far--studying and reading and lets not forget the debate team. Smooth. Very smooth, she chided herself. She felt like the child her father so often accused her of being. For goodness sake, this was college and it was time she grew up.

With a new sense of purpose, Martha gathered her things and chanced another look across the way. He was still there munching his snack but by then had taken out books of his own, flipping back and forth between pages and looking lost in thought. Her resolve faltered as she told herself it would be rude to interrupt him now. Yes, of course that was the reason she wouldn't talk to him It couldn't possibly be that she had no idea what to say. Oh, this was ridiculous. What could be less difficult than opening one's mouth and letting words come out?

Finally, she took hold of what boldness she had left, strode right up to him, and said:

"Nice apple." And proceeded to die of mortification-- or at least wish she had.

His chin turned up, his blue eyes appraising her with some uncertainty, as though he were thinking perhaps she had said something entirely different and had he had just misunderstood. Then he smiled a second time and closed the book he had been reading. "Thanks, I picked it out myself."

Thank God he had a sense of humor, she thought, and to her own surprise, she laughed then took a breath and regrouped the troops. "What I mean to say is...I..." Her eyes dropped to the book he held. A familiar cover peeked out from under his arm and she gave thanks to a higher power who'd obviously taken pity on her. "I see you have finance this quarter. Do you have Professor MacDonald?"

"Big Mac? Yeah, I do. I just left there, actually." He stood, his book in hand, and tossed the fruit into a nearby garbage pail. It was then that Martha realized that he was far taller than she had at first thought. Staring up at him, the playfulness in his eyes, his blonde hair tousled by a passing breeze, she couldn't quite remember what they'd been talking about. Left who where?

Martha shuffled her books to her other arm and swept a stand of hair behind her ear, composing herself. "Oh, me too. Well, actually, I have him first thing in the morning and I, um, I was kind of tired this morning. I think I may have fallen asleep. Do you think maybe I could borrow your notes?" Granted, things hadn't started off that well, but she congratulated herself on managing to sound fairly articulate.

"Sure. I think most people fall asleep in there. It's not just the morning group, believe me. Luckily, nodding and pretending to listen while the rest is on autopilot is something I learned a long time ago." Before she could say another word, he was kneeling down, rustling through the red backpack that sat lopsided at his feet. " I hope you can read my writing. Sometimes even I have to guess at it," he laughed then produced a green notebook and--still on bended knee, with a flick of the wrist, in a move reminiscent of the gallant prince offering his fair lady the finest flower-- he held it out to her. "M'lady."

Perhaps it was the resident cynic in her or maybe just her pride, but now that she had regained some amount of poise, she wasn't about to further embarrass herself by becoming a giggling schoolgirl over the slightest gesture--charming as it may have been. She simply smiled in kind and took the notebook, placing it somewhere between the others she carried while he got to his feet.

"You don't even know my name. How can you be so sure I'll bring it back?" It wasn't the most flirtatious thing she could have said but it was far from produce products or any other nonsense she might have blurted out.

After a moment of consideration, he chuckled and answered,"I prefer to believe in people. But if it makes you feel any better, my name's Jonathan. Jonathan Kent."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Martha Clark," she said, blinking up at him before realizing a handshake seemed to be in order, but having hands that were otherwise occupied sent them both fumbling. A few exchanged 'Oh wait's and 'Here let me's later and all books were finally and successfully set aside on the bench behind them. "As I was saying, I'm Martha Clark," she informed him, attempting to sound as though she had planned everything just that way as she quickly smoothed her shirt and held out her hand.

"Hi," he said, smiling bigger than before, and took her hand giving it a friendly shake.

"This is--it's terribly nice of you. I haven't seen too many familiar faces. It's good to see a friendly one." Yes, that was better. Polite but not too forward. And she'd managed to remember to let go of his hand , though now, with no books, what to do with her own was suddenly a mystery. She settled for sweeping the same misbehaving strand from her face.

"Oh, no trouble at all, but, um..."

But? There was a 'but'? Martha felt her cheeks burn with an embarrassment she hoped wasn't as painfully obvious as it felt and opened her mouth, ready to make a quick excuse to leave with some dignity intact. "...It wouldn't be very friendly of me to not at least be sure you had no trouble--like I said, my handwriting can be a puzzle, even to me. I have some time. Do you want to go over everything?"

Only when he had finished talking did she realize her mouth was still open. It opened and closed a few more times before any sound actually came out-- "Well, what about your--" 'Exam' she didn't say .

"My what?"

Martha looked up into those kind blue eyes before answering.

"Nothing."

TBC...