The Prince of Brown and the Minnesota Pauper

Chapter I

Regan Coulter stepped out of the dusty old green Subaru that had made the drive, from Minnesota all the way to Rhode Island. A giddy feeling of pure excitement fluttered in her stomach as she gaped at the buildings that she had ogled in the glossy brochures. She was still unsure as to how exactly she’d managed to land acceptance into an Ivy League school, not to mention it was the school that she had been dreaming about attending for years. But somehow, an admissions officer had thought to give her admittance to this school; the school that she would be able to study with some of the brightest and well educated people in the country. She had never been so excited before to begin something new. But now that she was going to be working on an international relations major and studying languages and culture, she couldn’t imagine what else could be more exciting.

It was especially nice to be here, finally, after spending the last two days in a car with her parents. It was sweet that they had come out to drop her off and help her get her room set up, but, she felt as though she’d spent enough time with them to last until Christmas. But she wouldn’t let them know that. She would probably miss them when they left.

Probably, but not likely.

 The three days her parents were there to help her set up in West Andrews Hall went by fast for Regan, and before she knew it, her mother was hugging her in a tearful goodbye and her father was staring at the floor, biting his lip, trying to deny that he was going to miss his only child. But after sending her parents off, Regan felt that she needed to do a little bit of exploring.

Because freshmen were prohibited to have cars on campus, Regan walked until she found a small bookshop tucked into a corner of a street and was pleased to discover a plethora of hidden areas, stairwells that led to small lounges, doors that opened to cold stone rooms, lined floor to ceiling with books. There were books in different languages, popular fiction, non-fiction, classics, and bizarre finds that Regan found irresistible.

But it was in the back of the store that she saw what must have been a little piece of heaven fallen from the sky. An entire wall, floor to ceiling, wall to wall was covered in yellow magazines. Regan knew from the moment she saw it what the magazines were. There were thousands of issues of National Geographic magazines all crammed into one little space. She reverently went up and stroked the bindings of several as she ran her hand behind her, looking at the dates printed along the spine. Amazed at how far back they dated, the earliest she saw was 1955, she realized that this was going to be a very special place for her while she was at Brown.

Pulling out an issue from 1975, Regan reasoned that she would only buy one every once in a while, so as to keep herself on track academically and financially. Her family was having to scrape together the money was needed to cover the financial aid she had received and she didn’t want to waste her parent’s efforts.

Hugging the magazine to her chest, she closed her eyes and smiled, breathing in deeply the smell of books and glossy magazine paper. She turned around and walked straight into a well muscled chest. Jerking her eyes open she quickly apologized, putting her hand out to touch the man’s forearm. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, looking into his handsome face, surprised by the startled smile on his face. “I wasn’t paying attention, and it was all my fault! I’m so sorry!” She said again, smiling guiltily, patting his arm.

“It’s alright.” He said in accented English and she immediately identified him as a Frenchman, her interest peaked at the thought

Steeling herself against the wave of words that would surely come exploding out of her mouth she smiled and said, “This is horribly rude, but you’re French?” She cocked her head to the side, a half smile playing around her lips.

He smiled and shook his head, “Close, I am from Monaco. I am Stefano de Massey, though you may call me Stefan.”

It took Regan a moment to realize that Stefan was waiting for her to give her name. “Oh, ah, I’m Regan Coulter, from Minnesota.” She said, trying to be friendly. After all it wouldn’t hurt to make a new friend before school started. Especially a hot Monacan.

“What do you have there?” Stefan asked, gesturing to her magazine after he politely shook her hand.

“What?” She asked, momentarily lost in his ridiculously blue eyes. “Oh, this,” She said, looking down at the magazine she still had clutched to her chest. “It’s a National Geographic magazine, they have a whole wall of them, and I’m kind of obsessed with them.” She smiled wryly, realizing that she was making a fool of herself.

“That is a good choice,” Stefan said, surprising her.

“That’s what I thought but then I was looking-,” Regan stopped short. He didn’t really want to talk about National Geographic all day, but he apparently did want to talk to her. So she changed the subject. “Sorry, I’m being rude again. Do you go to school at Brown?” She asked, gesturing in what she hoped was the general direction of the campus. She had never been good with directions.

Stefan nodded again, grinning. He probably thinks I’m an idiot! Regan groaned to herself as he spoke, “I’m a sophomore. And you? You are a student too?”

She began nodding her head and couldn’t stop, “Mmmmhuh.” She said in what was most certainly not English. “I’m a freshman, or will be a freshman.” She hesitated, wondering if that made her seem less desirable. Not that she cared if he thought being a freshman wasn’t cool, but she did. “I’m just moving in, or I just moved in.” She knitted her eye brows together again, still confused about her present situation.

Stefan smiled at the girl who had run into him in the bookstore. She was beautiful, with her red hair and wide smile. He couldn’t decide what color her eyes were, if they were green or brown, each time he looked at them, they appeared to be a different color. He also found her floundering very adorable. She contradicted herself in every sentence, clearly flustered, a feeling he understood, and he felt an immediate desire to spend more time with her. That was when he found himself saying, “Because you are new, perhaps I could show you around the campus.” He suggested, hoping she would take the offer.

Her head began to bobble again, until she managed to control it. “That would be great!” She said.

“Shall I meet you outside your dorm?”

“Sure, I live in West Andrews Hall. In the lobby at six?” She asked, biting her lip, probably unaware of the action.

“Perfect.” He said and watched her walk away and began to wonder how he knew, after such a short meeting, that she was going to be a part of his life for a very long time.