Chapter Text
Lucy is pissed.
The last thing she wants is to be standing outside the door in the Architectural and Design hall, staring at the course information on her phone. She’s in the right place, and that’s sort of a shame. This isn’t her dream class; far from it, in fact. She’s studying graphic design, but due to issues with her schedule last semester, when she needed to take a “practical applied drawing course” but couldn’t fit it in, she is now stuck with a class that focuses on architectural sketching – Drawing in Architect 305, as it happens.
She’s vaguely familiar with the concepts, but she just scraped by Drawing in Architect 101 with a barely passing grade. There’s too much math in anything architectural-related for her to feel truly comfortable. She’s a creative; she doesn’t do anything with math or science, thank you very much.
It’s mostly because she’s awful at both and they have a talent for making her feel stupid. She’s had enough of that in her life from her mother. She doesn’t need subjects to add to it.
With a deep breath, she grabs the doorknob and pushes into the room. She’s not late, but she feels as though she’s the last student to arrive. The class is filled with architecture majors, and she’s certain she’s the only graphic design student here. She’s the odd one out, and goddammit, she sticks out like a sore thumb.
She settles next to a dark-haired girl who glances at her.
“Killer boots,” the girl comments, nodding to Lucy’s combat boots, and she manages a small grin.
“Thanks. They’re ancient.”
“Very pop punk. I’m Kat.”
“Lucy.”
“Are you studying architecture?”
Lucy shakes her head, and the feeling that she sticks out like a sore thumb increases tenfold. “Graphic design.”
“That’s cool. What’re you doing here?”
“The university makes graphic design students take practical art classes.”
Kat snorts. “That’s fucking stupid. If you wanted to be an architecture student, that’s what you’d be studying.”
“That’s what I said, but my counselor wouldn’t let me get out of it. She said if I don’t take this course, I can’t graduate at the end of the year.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m only here because the other option was to be a lawyer, and I thought I might kill the judge if he ruled against me.”
Lucy laughs despite herself. “You know what? That’s fair. I’d be pissed off about that, too.”
“My boyfriend is also an architecture student,” Kat adds. “It’s how we met, so I guess some good has come of it.” She smirks slightly. “Well, that, and I’m less likely to get arrested for first degree murder.”
“Staying out of jail is always a plus,” Lucy agrees, just as the classroom door opens again, and a big, burly man walks in. He looks more like a cop than an architect professor, but he’s wearing something that sort of resembles a suit, so he must be in charge of the class.
“Right,” he rumbles, and everyone turns to look at him. “Welcome to Drawing in Architect 305. I see a lot of familiar faces, and a couple of new ones.” His gaze lands on Lucy for the briefest moment, and then he shifts his eyes away. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Professor Montagu Barnes. This class is sort of a transition for a lot of people. A few of our art majors are required to take it, and it’s also a building block for architecture majors. However, it’s not particularly architect-intensive, which is why it’s recommended for art majors.”
That’s something, Lucy reflects. She’s hoping the math isn’t too crazy, either, because otherwise she’s definitely not going to pass.
Barnes opens his mouth to continue his spiel, but before he can, the classroom door swings open once more. Everyone turns to see who the newcomer is, and Lucy nearly chokes on her tongue.
A tall, dark haired young man walks into the room. He’s dressed more professionally than Barnes is, complete with suit jacket and tie. He’s not the type of boy Lucy would normally look twice at, but with his high cheekbones and smoldering eyes, she’s surprised she isn’t drooling.
He’s beautiful, and a part of her hopes this means he’s in the class, but another part of her dreads it if he is. It’ll turn into another opportunity for her to make an idiot out of herself, and that’s the last thing she needs to do in front of a guy who looks like
that
.
“The copy machine jammed,” the guy says to Barnes, and even his voice is delicious. Deep, rich, and velvety, and Lucy thinks she detects a posh accent. Certainly more uppercrest than her own. “That’s why it took me so long to make fifteen copies of the damn syllabus. Next time, I’m printing it out like any rational person.”
“Fighting with the copier is a rite of passage,” Barnes replies.
“I’ve fought with copiers before. I don’t feel like I’m any better for it. In fact, my most hated piece of office equipment is now the copier, instead of the printer. Do you know how much I’m going to stand out now?”
Okay, so he’s probably not a student. Perhaps an office assistant? He’s dressed pretty nicely for a smart-mouthed office assistant, but maybe that’s just his aesthetic.
Barnes rolls his eyes. “Start handing them out, Lockwood.”
“You could just email them, you know.”
“You made fifteen copies. I don’t want your hard work to go to waste.”
“PDFs are easier, and they’re more environmentally friendly.”
“
Lockwood
–”
Lockwood flashes Barnes the sort of shit-eating grin that Lucy imagines endears him to girls and turns him into a source of fury for men.
“Hand out the goddamn syllabuses,” Barnes growls, and Lockwood laughs.
“Whatever you say.” He begins to pass out the papers, neatly stapled together. When he reaches Lucy and Kat, Lucy gets a whiff of cologne, a little sweet, a little musky, but definitely a scent that works well. She wants to ask him what it is, and is immediately ashamed of herself. He’s just trying to do a job, and she’s already gearing up to flirt with him. She needs to get herself under control before the class really starts, or else she’s going to be daydreaming about the cute office assistant for the next hour.
Nevertheless, she glances up into those deep, umber eyes, and manages to produce a squeak. A whole squeak. Not even a syllable. Barely a noise.
She’s definitely not going to be able to get up the nerve to ask him what brand his cologne is, not if she can’t even manage to say “thanks” when he hands her a piece of paper.
She can feel Kat’s eyes on her, but she ignores the other girl. She’s blushing way too hard to ever show her face again, and she’s just ready for the class to be over.
Thank god he’s not a student. If he were, she would be even more fucked than she already is.
Lockwood quirks an eyebrow at her, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just hands Kat her syllabus, and moves on to the next row.
Kat leans over once Lockwood is a couple rows behind them, and hisses, “Somehow, you didn’t strike me as the type to go for posh boys.”
“I don’t usually,” Lucy whispers. “But did you see him?”
“Of course I did. I know him. Not well, but I wouldn’t, would I?”
Lucy frowns. “What do you mean?”
It’s at that moment that Lockwood returns to the front of the room. “Everyone should have a syllabus,” he calls. “If I missed someone, let me know, and I’ll grab another copy for you.” He pauses. “Assuming the copier doesn’t revolt again.”
Lucy frowns even more deeply. He’s kind of taking charge. That’s hot, but why is he taking charge?
“You don’t know who he is?” Kat demands.
“No…Isn’t he an office assistant?”
“What part of ‘posh boy in a suit’ makes you think of an office assistant?”
This is an excellent question, but Lucy has an answer.
“He was fighting with a copier and handing out syllabuses.”
“Why would he hand out syllabuses if he’s an office assistant?”
Suddenly, Lucy doesn’t like where this is going
at all
. She’s beginning to get the impression that she’s misread the situation entirely, which is never a good feeling.
“Okay,” Barnes says when no one raises their hand, “this is where we part ways for a bit. For those of you who haven’t met him, this is Mr. Lockwood. He’s a teacher’s assistant, and will be running this class while I attend to other things. He’ll be the primary teacher, and I’ll step in for the bigger concepts.”
Lucy swallows hard.
He’s a teacher’s assistant.
A TA.
Which means –
He’s going to be here every single fucking class.
Which also means –
He’s her teacher.
She’s drooling over her teacher.
It’s like she’s thirteen all over again, not twenty. What full-grown woman gets a crush on their teacher? She’s pathetic. The first guy she’s even really checked out since she and Paul broke up, and he’s her fucking
teacher
. He might as well be her professor.
She hates this.
She hates this class.
She hates her life.
She hates everything.
After Barnes exits the room, Lockwood perches himself on the desk and begins to go over the syllabus with them. He explains that this class is going to focus more on freehand sketching, instead of working within a program.
“Most architects prefer to sketch by hand,” he tells them. “It’s a useful skill to have. Towards the end of the class, we’ll work more with industrial design programs, but for now, we’re just going to stick with sketching the old fashioned way.”
Lucy notates her syllabus, even while wondering how her graphic design skills will translate to this. She loves drawing, but goddamn, she’s never been great with buildings. Her measurements are always a little off. The roofs are usually a little slanted. She’s meant to draw creatively, not to try to replicate a miniature model of a house.
She tries not to sigh. She feels exceedingly out of her element, and it’s awful. She longs for her next graphic design class in a couple hours, when she’ll doubtlessly be more at ease. She’s essentially been plopped down into an advanced class for a field of study that isn’t hers, and told to try to keep up. How the fuck is she supposed to do that?
Sometimes, if professors see that you’re trying, they’ll grade accordingly. If she shows Lockwood that she’s giving it her all, he might go easy on her.
When the class ends, everyone scrambles to their feet. She’s swinging her book bag over her shoulder when he calls out, “Miss Carlyle? Is Lucy Carlyle here?”
Is she in trouble already? Did he somehow manage to hear her thoughts about him?
Oh god. What if she said something out loud? Sometimes that happens with her ADHD. Her inside thoughts become outside thoughts, and she doesn’t even realize it until it’s too late.
But Kat throws her an equally confused look, so Lucy supposes it’s safe to assume she didn’t say anything embarrassing. All she did was squeak. Squeaks are bad, but they’re not the “wow, he’s so hot, I wonder what he looks like naked” sort of bad.
“Yeah,” she manages to force out. Hey, look! No squeaks in sight! “I’m here.”
“Great. Can you come up here?”
Oh god. She really is in trouble. She can’t imagine why, but maybe her old grade got rescinded. Maybe it wasn’t actually high enough for her to take this class. Fucking perfect. Then she’s going to have to register for a different “practical applied art” class next semester, and she’ll graduate late, and all her plans are going to be fucking blown.
She drags herself up to the front of the room as slowly as possible, preparing herself to meet her doom.
Lockwood is sitting at the desk now, and he waits until everyone else has left before looking up at her. “Barnes left me a note about you,” he explains. “Apparently you’re a graphic design student?”
“What? Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
“And you’re just taking this class to fulfill a requirement?”
“The one I planned to take wasn’t available this semester.”
He nods. “That happens sometimes. I was a TA last semester, too,” he tells her. “I saw a couple of graphic design students in that class.”
“Oh.” Well, she doesn’t seem to be in trouble, so that’s good news. She’s doing her best not to stare too hard, but it’s so difficult when all she wants to do is trace the angles of his jaw and the curve of his neck. His lashes are so long, it’s unreal. How the hell is his nose so straight?
None of this is fair.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that if you’re struggling, or feel like you’re falling behind, to tell me and I’ll see about catching you up on everything.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “What sort of note did Barnes leave for you?”
Lockwood blinks at her in confusion. “He just said you’re a graphic design student. He did that last semester, too. Why?”
“Oh. Nothing. Just…Nothing.”
“Well, now I’m curious.”
“I’m just supposed to have accommodations if I need them,” she explains. “ADHD and all that.”
“Oh! Me, too.” He grins at her. “I’m happy to accommodate you if you need it.”
“No, I mean…I’ve got ADHD, I just…I’d rather not – I can do it on my own.”
“Well, I mean, yeah. Of course you can.” He looks slightly befuddled now. “This class isn’t a lecture, Miss Carlyle. It’s not going to involve intense listening and rapid note taking.” He grimaces, and Lucy can imagine the hell that lecture classes can be for him. “It’s going to be a lot more practical work, I promise. You should be fine, but if you’re not – this isn’t your field of study. I don’t expect you to be up to speed. But I also know that you might not recognize it if you’ve got ADHD,” he continues on. “You’re more likely to try to push through. Anyway, I’ll just keep tabs with you, okay? If you’re feeling overwhelmed or confused, just let me know.”
“I’m always overwhelmed and confused.”
He laughs. “I meant, even more than normal.”
“Oh. Yeah, I can do that.”
“I’m sure you’d like to graduate on time, so I’d like to make sure you pass this class.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Excellent. In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Carlyle.” He offers her a sweet smile, and she almost swoons. Not only is he handsome and clearly smart, but he’s also kind and considerate.
No wonder she’s got a crush. What girl wouldn’t?
“Thanks,” she mumbles out, and at least it’s not a squeak. She hurries out of the classroom, trying to figure out how she’s going to survive the rest of the semester with him as her TA.
She’s so fucked.
Not only is she fucked, but deep down, she suspects she kind of likes it.
Once she’s outside the building, she digs her phone out of her messenger bag to check it, and immediately rolls her eyes.
She and Paul have been broken up for almost a year now, and he’s still texting her regularly, trying to see if she’d be willing to meet up while he’s in town for this event, or if she’d consider taking the train to come see him this weekend. It’s as though he hasn’t figured out that their relationship officially ended last October, and he’s trying to cling to the past.
Paul wasn’t an awful boyfriend, but he also wasn’t always the brightest bulb. He’s the one who suggested they “take a break”, but then got extremely offended when she decided she didn’t want to get back together with him. She knows that in his mind “take a break” meant a free pass to sleep with whoever he wanted, with no consequences. He’s that type. Not a lot going on up there, but he thinks he’s something of a genius.
This is why they’re now broken up, and Lucy is eyeing a TA like he’s a stripper.
In any case, this particular text is asking Lucy to come meet him up north at his university. She rolls her eyes and leaves him on
read
. Knowing him, he won’t even offer to pay for her train ticket.
Hoping the rest of the year won’t be like this, she makes her way to the library to get a headstart on her homework. She’s trying. She’s really trying.
Thankfully, her first class of the morning is a still life class, more of an elective than anything. She’s taking it more for fun, and she’s glad for it. She’d love to become a big name artist, but graphic design is what’s going to pay the bills while she sells her art online for twenty pounds a pop.
Besides, she doesn’t mind working with logos and banners. She took a Graphic Design for Marketing class last year, and really enjoyed it. She’s actually got a talent for it, and she’s hoping to take the followup class for it next semester.
But first, she’s got to get through the next few months.
Godspeed.
Before she can set herself up with what little homework she’s got, she props her laptop open and gets into the university’s website. She heads to the architecture page, and finds herself scrolling through the list of professors, bypassing their photographs, until she reaches the TAs. There are only two of them: Holly Munro and Anthony Lockwood. Lucy wishes she’d gotten Miss Munro. At least she wouldn’t distract Lucy the way Lockwood undoubtedly will.
Lucy’s gaze focuses on Lockwood’s picture. It’s black and white, and of course the bastard looks fantastic like that. He’s got a little grin playing around his lips, and Lucy wants to ride the fuck out of his face.
She blinks at the thought. She’s not a virgin – thanks, Paul – but she’s also only had sex with one person. She’s generally too focused on her degree to even think about dating, much less sleeping with someone. She’s not sure what it says about her if she wants Lockwood to eat her out, but she’d rather not question it.
He can be a fantasy.
Nothing else.
She just has to be fine with it.
He’ll make a lovely fantasy, she decides. With a deep breath, she closes her laptop, not even bothering to read his little bio blurb.
She’s got work to do, and she needs to prepare herself. Tomorrow, she’s back in Lockwood’s vicinity, and she can only hope that she doesn’t make an idiot out of herself.
And maybe…just maybe…she’ll get a smile out of him.