Delete Scene - Cameron and Mel's Meet Cute
Cameron
Today was the day everything came together. Today was the day I started the next step in rebuilding my life.
Nervousness made my fingers visibly shake in the rearview mirror as I tried to flatten my cowlick one last time. Maybe I could convince myself the shakes weren’t nervousness, just excitement. I was excited to start over from scratch where nobody knew who I was. I was excited to start my new job as an adjunct computer science professor. Mind over matter, right?
The view through my windshield showcased faculty and staff walking between campus buildings and a few students dotting the sidewalks. This was where I thrived — a world of fellow academics, a world of people I hadn’t met yet, an opportunity to start my dream career with a great first impression.
I had no reason to be nervous and every reason to be excited.
My gaze lingered on one person in particular. A beautiful woman. Brown hair in a braid. A large bag hooked over one shoulder. She walked with brisk, determined steps and straight, confident posture. Her lips curved up in a half-smile. But she wasn’t smiling at anyone specific, she was walking and half-smiling through her morning…for no specific reason? For herself?
Either way, that was the kind of energy I would bring today.
Moments later, my footsteps tapped against the pavement like everyone else’s, like hers, bringing me closer to the main campus building where I and the other new hires would sit through a morning of orientation sessions.
I didn’t follow her on purpose. I promise. We just happened to walk in the same direction. If my eyes kept gravitating toward her on their own, who could blame me?
Once I stepped inside the glass doors, I lost sight of her, which was just as well. Today was about my career, not about a woman. Even if she half-smiled.
A middle-aged woman stood just inside the doors, checking names and handing out paperwork. A few others stood in line with me — apparently I wasn’t the only early riser on the first day.
The woman smiled blandly at me. “Welcome. Your name?”
“Cameron Whitacre.”
She shuffled through a stack of papers, the fluorescent lights making her hands cast shadows on the pages. “Here’s your handbook and a lanyard. We don’t have assigned parking for adjunct professors, but there’s plenty of room for everyone. If you could take this packet and find a seat over there” — she gestured vaguely over her shoulder — “the first meeting will begin shortly.”
Thankfully she didn’t say anything more, because I stopped listening. Her vague gesture toward the seating had drawn my attention to the room at large, and there she was, the beautiful woman. My brain stopped functioning. (Don’t judge me — your brain would’ve stopped, too.)
Now that I was closer than a dozen yards away, I saw her eyes were brown. I saw her pretty smile when she laughed with the blond woman sitting to her left. A pad of paper rested on her lap, and her fingers tapped a rhythm against it with a pen. A single cupcake — red velvet, maybe? — balanced on a Styrofoam plate.
And an empty seat on her right beckoned to me.
Someone standing in line behind me cleared their throat. I startled into action, apologizing for taking too long.
It would’ve been smart to get a coffee and bagel from the refreshment table. It would’ve been smart to remember that today was about my career. But something in my chest towed me forward. I had to claim that empty seat next to her. I needed that seat.
A man intercepted me to shake my hand. It took a moment before I placed him as Dr. Keith Freisen, one of the men who’d interviewed me for the adjunct position.
“Welcome to the team, Dr. Whitacre.” He straightened his bowtie, which was already perfectly straight.
I nodded, willing myself to stop staring at the woman long enough to mingle with my new boss. Like you’re supposed to do on your first day at a new job. “Thank you. I’m thrilled to be here.”
“Allow me to introduce you to a few of your new colleagues.”
My mind might’ve registered the names and job titles as he monologued through the introductions, but my focus was on her, my stomach sinking every time someone else approached the empty seat. I managed to smile and shake hands, expressing how thrilled I was to join the computer science department.
Finally, my new boss and colleagues walked away. Finally, I resumed my mission.
Only now she was looking right at me. She smiled. I smiled, too, unable to break eye contact as I crossed the remaining distance to that empty chair.
“Hiya, I’m Cameron Whitacre. Is this seat taken?”
Hiya?! Of all the idiotic things to say. What was I, ten years old with new rubber bands on my braces at my first middle school dance? Normally I had perfectly fine social skills, thanks very much.
Her smile only widened. “Hiya, I’m Melanie Hirsch. The seat is all yours.”
Maybe hiya wasn’t so idiotic, because hearing it from her lips, an unfamiliar feeling uncoiled in my chest.
I sat, still smiling at her, hoping for the return of my perfectly fine social skills as quickly as possible, if they could please hurry up already.
Today was the day I would forever compare every other woman to Melanie Hirsch. Nothing would ever be the same.