PART ONE

The halls of the dormitory lay silent and barren but for the hum of the third floor bathroom’s fluorescent lights; this September night was mild and the occupants had fallen into an easy slumber. Even the most avid college sex-letes had called time on their respective conquests by the early hours of the morning, leaving a rare moment of calm in the conscious world. Only one was awake to seize it. Staring mindlessly at a large poster of Manet’s  Young Woman Reclining in Costume  she had taped to her ceiling Bette Porter was unaware of her singularity at this moment, instead the undergraduate focused on the brick wall that faced her- a first sentence. The first sentence of her first essay of her first degree; her first chance. The full ashtray that rested sat gently against her abdomen served as a further reminder of how long she had had laid there, for 42 cigarettes or more accurately 3 hours. Bette stared into the young woman’s face and watched it miraculously morph into the face of her Professor, causing a sharp lurch in her stomach as her left hand fumbled for the second packet of cigarettes and quickly lit it but not before she remembered how acutely she wanted to impress her.

“Fuck” uttered the young woman as she took another drag before her hand subconsciously lifted to scratch at the space between her unshaped eyebrows and she fell into another moment occupied by aimless thoughts.

Regaining consciousness and butting out her cigarette Bette suddenly jumped to her feet and ripped the poster from the ceiling, throwing it into the corner and diving under the covers.

“Tomorrow” mumbled the youngest Porter before falling into dreams of the woman that blocked her from writing her first paper.

It was not until she was facing the mirror with her head in her hands that Bette Porter fully realised she was actually out of bed, not just dreaming that she was- which had led to that most famous of public humiliations earlier in the semester. It was not until her toothbrush miraculously found its way into her mouth that Bette Porter realised she had actually dreamt of Professor Lambert all night; that her scent still lingered in the air, and it was not until this moment that Bette began to realise who she was. Walking to the cafeteria she was all at once convinced that everyone could tell, or at least could guess at what had occurred during her hours of slumber- the occasional glances from her peers seemed accusing and all knowing while the giggles of girls pulled the air violently from her lungs. B stopped at the doors that dimmed the clatter of cutlery and chatter of friends, enemies and the unnoticed considering skipping the first meal of that day before a sure hand came to rest on the small of her back

“Morning, Beautiful” cooed Coleman as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek causing a smile to form on her lips- a smile of gratitude that it had been her cheek not her lips that had collided with his.

Bette certainly liked him and was sure that he loved her, hence his chivalry in the bedroom department. Naturally she would never consider herself naïve in the moment though she would soon realise her mistake.

“Sleep well?” he inquired as he opened the door for her to enter

“Yeah… You?” B returned the interest, even if it was just courtesy

“Billy saw to it that I didn’t” Coleman smirked

“Jess over?”

“No”

Bette didn’t ask what had diverted her boyfriend from slumber seeing as it wasn’t his roommate and girlfriend, assuming that the two men had spent the night talking about sports and conquests.

“So did you get that essay done?” continued the young man in all by hurried manner

“Fuck no. Ever have those moments where you’re just completely blocked and the worst part is there isn’t any tangible reason- you’re just completely inept to deal with the problem at hand?”

“No” quipped Colemann without a smile, causing a twang of anger to pull at heart of Bette Porter

“Jesus Christ why are you such a fucking male?”

“Didn’t think you needed an anatomy lesson”