POV: Layla
Layla stretched her legs, ready to start the day. It was the second week of classes, and the first test was already set for this day. She had planned to get up early to get her coffee before Professor Elijah Johnson, whom she had deemed one of her primary nemeses for this semester, though the spot was rivalled by Victor, with whom she shared the class. Victor had through the entire first week been picked before her, when they both had held up a hand to answer a question. He had even, sometimes, answered before he was picked. Layla considered such behaviour completely inappropriate, rude, and unforgivable, and she did not understand why Professor Johnson had not told him off. This had, of course, fuelled her borderline hatred against both of them – not that she had let it show, of course.
She brushed her hair, put on a light jumper, perfect for the incoming autumn weather, and a skirt with a pair of thick stockings. She considered finishing up her look with a bow in her hair, but decided against it, as it might make her look too sweet – not that there was anything wrong with that, of course, but… She paused and put the bow in after all.
"You up yet?" she yelled through the door to Marisha's room.
"Huh?" an answer came, "Well, I am now."
"I will leave a lunchbox for you – your first class starts in half an hour, right?"
Another mumble came from the door, which Layla interpreted as a confirmation, and without waiting to see her roommate appear, she left.
***
The sun was shining bright when it showed itself from between drifting clouds as Layla walked through the park. Leaves drifted along her path, carried by the wind and a piece of paper, completely out of place. She picked it up to throw it in a garbage can, but took a look at it first. It was a note that read: *See me after class. In the eastern garden, by the fountain, under the willow tree.*
Layla looked around to see if there was anyone nearby, but no one seemed to be paying attention to her. She pocketed the note and continued on, after all, she would have to get to the coffee before it was sold out, before Professor Johnson had managed to get to it.
***
POV: unknown
She was looking from her usual spot in the park as she saw the girl pick up the paper. She grinned when she saw the momentarily confused, then scared, and then curious look on her face.
"Trouble, trouble, trouble," she whispered to herself and picked up a pen – this time, ink and not an easily broken pencil.
The girl looked up and around, and for a brief second, she thought their eye met, locked with each other, but then the girl looked away again, seemingly not noticing her at all. The usual treatment, she thought.
Then her face fell back into its usually serious folds as she looked down at the papers she was correcting.
***
POV: Layla
The note was in her head all throughout her test, and though she managed to cover her basics, she answered quickly for the more in-depth opportunities to show what she had learned.
Layla was too curious a person not to investigate who the note might have been from, though she could not know who it was meant for. It could have flown away before the recipient had had a hold of it, or maybe they had received it, and she would find two star-crossed lovers by the fountain, or a pair of good friends.
She skipped out of class before Victor had a chance to torment her with what she had answered for every question. Normally, she would have stayed behind to have a lively debate with him, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. She had a minor mystery to solve.
***
Walking into the eastern garden, which was a smaller area, not much used by students, she found it unoccupied. A little disappointed, she sat down on a bench where she could view the willow tree as well as the fountain, but was herself almost hidden. She picked up a book and started waiting for anyone to appear.
Of course, the note could be from another day entirely, she started to doubt just as someone entered the garden. It was Professor Elijah Johnson, with a stack of papers in his hand. She looked down again.
A couple more minutes passed, they were now the only people in the garden, and he was sitting under the willow tree.
She looked up at him, glancing, wondering, was he the one who was to meet someone, or was he the one who had written the note?
She wondered if she could be bold enough to ask him. She still had the note after all; she could just say that she wished to return it. Or would that be too creepy? Maybe she could naturally weave it into a conversation. Yes, she decided to go for it, without wondering more about it; the unanswered questions would distract her too much if left without even trying.
"Excuse me?" she said as she approached him, with as kind a smile as she could muster.
"Yes?" he answered, looking up from his papers, "Oh, hello. I must say you are straightforward."
Straightforward? Layla wondered what he meant, but he continued.
"You must be here for your test, but I am not quite finished yet – and I don't hand out answers before every last one is ready. Miss… Layla," he looked down at the paper in his hand. "As a matter of fact, I am correcting your test just now."
"Oh," Layla responded, not knowing if she should feel confident or uncomfortable. And forgetting all about the note, as she stood in the reality of accidentally confronting a teacher about her test score without intending to do so.
"You will have to do better on the next one," he said, giving her the answer she was not looking for.
She now felt both uncomfortable and embarrassed. She had never been told that she would have to do better at anything. Maybe she had been told there were certain areas with opportunity for improvement. But she had never been told she would have to do better. She would have to do better. The words sank into her mind, echoing again and again. Have to do better? What did it mean? Was it a threat? What would happen if she did not do better? She felt disappointment in herself wash over her, clouding her mind. The threat of tears, lying just beneath her, if she was not careful to keep the sea at bay.
"Thank you, professor, I will," she said, her voice shaking though she did her best to will it not to, but it did not work.
"Elijah," he corrected her, "you will have to do better with that as well."
That was the final straw; she could feel the tears pressing to escape her. She turned around without another word and stormed away, doing her best not to straight-up run away. Damn him, she thought, damn him and his mean words and good looks. He was starting to look less handsome in her eyes, though, by every mean thing he said.
***
POV: Professor Elijah Johnson
He watched the young woman walk away before he had a chance to apologize. He had only realised how cruel he had sounded when the words had already been said. He would have to make it up to her somehow, he thought, as he put down his paperwork to consider a solution to the predicament he had landed himself in. She was awfully pretty as well, he thought as he watched her walk away. Though maybe a bit too stern and uptight for her sweet looks. Hmm, tied up, he thought to himself, and loosened his tie a little as he watched the last glimpse of her disappear from view.