1 Something Alluring

Rowan

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP-

I grumble as I hit the alarm clock until I finally get the right button. Whose idea was it to get a normal alarm clock instead of just using a phone alarm?

Instead of marinating in my own contempt, I slowly rise and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The floor is freezing, as is usual for November in New York. I go into my small and slightly grimy bathroom - who has time to clean when they have so many classes and an internship? - and look at my greasy ginger hair. Thankfully the copper tone masks the oil enough so that a quick brushing will suffice. I grab a random sweater from the closet and my usual skinny jeans, then my black combat boots and leather jacket. After I am finished dressing, I brush my teeth furiously and try to find where I left my laptop.

Again? That's the third time this month I've misplaced it! I rifle through my bag and then look around the apartment frantically. I must have left it at the coffee shop where I often stop after my internship to fuel up on caffeine and work on never-ending term papers and textbook assignments. Maybe I should start taking a multivitamin for memory enhancement. I'm tired of forgetting everything all the time!

I grab my keys and head out the door, locking it behind me. I secure my bag close to my body and rush to the subway, finding the train I always take. Thankfully the crowds in that area are mostly other students and staff, so the proximity of so many bodies doesn't bother me as much.

When the short ride of almost 5 minutes is over, I make my way above ground and press the crosswalk button furiously, willing it to turn green. Finally I jog across the street where the coffee shop is and wave at my favorite barista, who points to the back counter where my laptop sits. I smile gratefully and grab it before running out the door and down the sidewalk. Almost two miles later, I arrive at campus with ten minutes to spare before my Wednesday lecture on the ethics of mental health law. As a social work major, this is a class I can't miss a single session of if I want to succeed in my field.

I drop by the Starbucks near the psychology building and order my usual: venti vanilla frappe with two shots of espresso. It's ready with less than five minutes to get to class and I go to grab it, but another hand grasps the cold plastic cup first. I look up to see who dares attempt to deprive me of my morning coffee, and find myself looking many inches upward to see his face. I blame my mother for only blessing me with five feet of ambition. When I meet his eyes, I feel all the air leave my lungs. Those eyes are so beautiful, the most enticing mix of grey and green. Not quite hazel, not quite emerald. Moss...

"Excuse me, I'm sorry. I didn't think to check the name before I put my hands on your drink." I almost forget to respond to that chocolatey-smooth voice until he says my name. "Rowan?"

I blink several times to bring some sense back to my body. "Uh, yeah. I guess the drink is mine. Thanks." I take it from him and scurry out the front, realizing that I am almost late for the lecture.

I walk as fast as possible and slip through the hall's double doors as they're closing. I take my usual spot in the front row and open my laptop to take detailed notes.

When my mind is successfully a blur of involuntary confinement and privileged communication, I close my laptop and pack up my things to head to lunch. I'll need to study for my client response test when I get to the dining hall. As I'm doing some mental math on how I'm going to block out time to study further, I spot those grey-green eyes again on my way to lunch. Focusing on the rest of him, I see slightly askew dark hair and very professional attire. He's wearing black slacks and a blazer, meaning he either works here as a teaching assistant or has a serious presentation coming up. I'm taken aback when I realize he is also examining my appearance. His eyes rake over my body and come back to rest on my face. I blush and he gives a devilish smirk before continuing past me toward the mathematics building.

Keep it together. He's just a pretty man, nothing to get worked up over. You have more important things to concern yourself about.

Like the fact that I only have fifteen minutes to eat and cram before I need to leave the dining hall for my internship with Professor Bailey, the abnormal psychology guru. I sigh and just plan to grab a sandwich and sit somewhere close to the door.

When I get to an open spot at the far corner table closest to the exit, I overhear others around me chatting about some news story.

"That's four girls since fall break! Where do you think they've gone?"

"Probably trafficked. It's a big city after all."

"But only students from NYU? Seems like it might be someone on campus."

"It's just some weirdo. Don't worry too much. Do as the Dean said and travel in groups, that's all."

I roll my eyes. Travel in groups? Some of us don't have that luxury. These mysterious disappearances have been happening since the middle of October, right after everyone returned from fall break. Four female students, all in good standing with the university, up and left with no explanation. Well, left or were taken. I know I can handle myself though. I have pepper spray.

As I walk back to the psychology building, my mind wanders. His eyes....there's something alluring about them. I've never been into anyone on campus, or even in high school. It's highly unusual for me to get this caught up in a man's looks. He was nice, too...

Snap out of it! I set up in Professor Bailey's room in the back row, intent on getting ready for the lecture that I will deliver today. Thankfully I don't need to dress up as I'm only an intern. I don't grade or give assignments, I simply give some lectures on topics I have researched extensively to show my knowledge of the subject. Today I will discuss the affect of parenting styles on future development of mental disorders in children. This is a subject I have been waiting to talk about since I started my internship in August. I smile as I get my notes ready and watch all the students enter and take their seats. One face I wasn't expecting to see was that of the stranger from Starbucks. Grey-green eyes meet mine once more, but this time they remain expressionless. I frown slightly and stand up to deliver my presentation.

It goes off without a hitch and I even get questions at the end. There was one question I wasn't prepared for, however. Mr. Grey-Green Eyes raises his hand, looking slightly bored.

"Yes?" I smile as I say it, feeling accomplished after my lecture.

His eyes narrow as if challenging me. "What if the parenting style doesn't fit into a specific category? What if the parent differs in treatment of the child throughout childhood and adolescence?"

I am dumbfounded. I don't know the answer to this one. "Are you alluding to the parent having a mental disorder that affects regulation of mood or personality, thus leading to fluctuation in treatment?"

He gives me that smirk again that almost melts me. "Whether a diagnosis was delivered to the parent or not, how would the chances of the child developing disordered thoughts change if the treatment changed constantly?"

I take a deep breath and simply state, "There is not enough evidence for me to deliver an informed answer to your inquiry."

"Give me your best guess, then," he challenges once more. This man is irritating.

"Well, I suppose if the parent had bipolar tendencies or perhaps borderline personality disorder, the child would be more likely to imitate the parent's behavior and develop these disorders over time. There would also be the chance of dependency issues later in life when the child becomes an adult and therefore is not in that constant toxic environment. The child could experience sudden extinction of symptoms or intensified symptoms depending on the level of dependency." I sigh in relief, glad that I could give some sort of answer.

"So you're saying that the child could either develop the same behaviors and thought processes as the parent?" When he mutters this, I notice an unpleasant expression marring his beautiful face.

"Yes, that is what I am saying. Thank you for your question; it was certainly thought-provoking." I head to my seat in the back until class is dismissed and prepare for the next group of students. Someone taps on my desk and I look up to meet those eyes yet again.

"My name is Adam. I must say, your lecture was quite impressive." He smiles and I want to melt again. A compliment and a flash of perfect white teeth? Lord help me.

"T-Thank you, Adam." I smile back nervously. Why am I so nervous? Get. It. Together!

"Let me treat you to coffee after your internship. I heard you're a regular in the evenings at the shop down the street. I'll meet you outside the building around 6?"

I am once again flabbergasted. How did he know I'm a regular there and how did he know what time I get off? Before I can respond, he's already gone.

I suppose I have a date later.