Garden of Eden

1

"It's impossible not to like you," Heidi assured her in a very biased manner. "Just bring him an apple. That usually wins people over."

Atalanta frowned. As much as she wanted to distance herself from Evans Apples, she knew Heidi might be on to something. That tactic had worked for Atalanta in high school, anyways.

"Alright," Atalanta said. "I have to go. I'll keep you posted. Tell... Tell dad I said hi." She bit the inside of her cheek.

Heidi pursed her lips. A beat of awkwardness passed. "He misses you, you know," she said after a moment. "You could always call him."

Atalanta wondered if her sweat now was caused by the heat or something else. Her thumb hovered over the button to end the FaceTime call. "I really have to go, Heidi. I love you."

"Love you too. And good luck!"

Atalanta gave a nervous smile, knowing that she would need more than luck when facing the notorious Professor Pattinson this afternoon.

***

Unfortunately, 1:00 arrived a lot sooner than Atalanta had hoped. Art had been easy and even a little fun at first. She met people and got to play with clay. But then the teacher asked them to draw something that represented them at their core; their hopes, their desires, their values.

Luckily, the assignment wasn't due. Otherwise, Atalanta would've had to turn in a blank paper.

It's not like she didn't know what she wanted. She knew she wanted a big life, in a city somewhere, doing something she loved. Though she had no idea which city, what that something would be, or how she would get there.

As she packed her bag to head to Professor Pattinson's class, she could only see her dad's face when she told him she wanted to go to college. She had wanted to go right after she graduated, but he needed help on the farm. So the compromise was that she would wait until he was in a stable position, and no matter how many staff members he hired, he would find a reason to keep her at home.

Two years later, she showed him her acceptance to Eden. She had wanted to study in a bigger city, but the college acknowledged her successes in track from high school so her dad wouldn't have to pay a penny.

"But you don't even know what you want to do," he had told her. "What's your major?"

Atalanta's cheeks had turned pink. "I can go in undeclared."

He had scoffed in her face. "You're leaving to accomplish nothing? To fuck around and party for four years?"

Perhaps he was the reason she was so determined now. Perhaps he was the reason why she couldn't stand the thought of Professor Pattinson being difficult with her. She had to prove to her dad that she would make something out of herself, and she was meant for more than the family apple business.

Maybe it was her anxiety over this issue, but she arrived to class a full ten minutes early. She hadn't even been paying attention; she just walked straight into Professor Pattinson's empty classroom. 

She might as well have been walking into hell.

Except when she raised her head, she was looking at an angel.

"Hello," the man behind the desk said. He had a soft British accent, and his words were a gentle brush against her face. "Can I help you?"

It took Atalanta several seconds to remember to breathe. Standing in front of her was the most beautiful human she had ever seen. To be fair, she had only ever been around country boys before now, and they were... well, they were country boys.

But this was a man. A tall man dressed in a clean button down, the sleeves pushed to his elbows as he wrote on the white board. It was a baby blue color that brought out his eyes and complimented the light brown of his hair. He had turned to look at her with such a casual grace, she swore her heart stopped in her chest.

She couldn't feel her tongue. Words were impossible. "I'm..." She swallowed to compose herself. "I'm looking for Professor Pattinson."

His thick, dark eyebrows were raised at her. "You've found him," he said. Unconcerned, he turned back to the white board. "You're early."

Atalanta hesitated. This was the super scary professor who failed everyone? She just stood at the door, completely taken aback. Was he mad at her for being early? Had she already messed up? Should she leave and come back in ten minutes?

But mostly, she could only stare. He was so handsome.

After a moment of silence, he looked over at her and gestured impatiently to the chairs. "Well, are you in or out?"

Mystified, Atalanta shuffled over to the chairs.

Professor Pattinson picked up a paper with the class roster on it from his desk. "What's your name?"

Atalanta forced herself not to shrink. She had a father to prove wrong, an aunt to make proud. She lifted her chin. "Atalanta Evans. And this is for you."

She stepped forward to place a shiny red apple on his desk. She smiled widely.

But he only frowned at it. "Is this supposed to impress me?"

Atalanta flinched. She had never met anyone so blunt. She was from a small town, where everyone was friendly and jumped at the chance to have one of her apples. But him?

"No," she said. "I just thought it was a nice gesture."

"Teacher's pet, are you?" he observed. He picked up the apple and inspected it. Then, with a finalizing thud, he placed it on the farthest corner of his desk. "I don't choose favorites."

Atalanta's face grew red. She didn't like how speechless he made her, how flustered he made her. But she was a runner; her stubborn determination defined her. 

She set her jaw. "I wouldn't expect you to," she stated. "But I have a bushel of apples and I thought I would share."

He raised an eyebrow. His eyes sparkled, entertained. "A bushel?"

"A bushel."

He lowered his tall frame into his desk chair. Atalanta watched, unflinching. She wouldn't back down. "A bushel. That's a lot of apples." He looked at her with amusement. "So you will bring me another tomorrow?"

"You can count on it," Atalanta said. "As long as you can promise they won't go to waste."

With long arms, he easily leaned to pluck up the apple off the corner of his desk. "They will be eaten," he said. And that was that.

She stood, waiting for more, but he just continued his inspection of the apple, so she turned to return to her desk.

"Atalanta," he said from behind her. She froze. "An interesting name."

Atalanta carefully sat. Then, she shrugged. "I hear my mother was an interesting person."

He regarded her curiously, though he didn't ask about her absent mother. Instead, he said, "do you know where it comes from?"

Again, she shrugged.

"At-a-lanta," he repeated, placing emphasis on each syllable. Most people missed the second 'a', and she had grown tired over the years correcting them. But he noticed each letter. Though it seemed as if he spoke the name to himself as he stared at the apple in his palm.

He set the apple down again. "Well," he said, crossing his hands on his desk. "You better pay attention in this class, then."

Just then, three more students trickled through the door. Atalanta wondered what else he might've said if they hadn't.

And as Professor Pattinson started class with his commanding voice and decisive movements, Atalanta knew that she would have no problem paying attention.

In fact, she found herself perhaps paying a little too much attention.