Chapter 1: Columbia

Spring mornings in New York City had never failed to improve Stephen’s mood. However, as he stepped out into the cool morning, his eyes taking in the quaint comfort of his Brooklyn neighborhood, Stephen felt nervous. There really wasn’t any reason to be, but then again he had never spoken in front of such a crowd. He was used to pitching ideas to older men in boardrooms, not giving inspirational speeches to students who were only a few years younger than his twenty-eight. Why was this so difficult?

Unwilling to give it anymore thought, Stephen strode down the steps of his building, where he rented the penthouse loft. T he loft itself wasn’t anything stunning; the building was over fifty years old, after all. It was the view from the roof that had captured him. A stunning panorama of Manhattan’s downtown skyline was all it had taken for Stephen to agree to pay the exorbitant rent.

Waiting at the curb is the car Trish had no doubt arranged for. Stephen had planned on taking the subway right up until he received the call from the driver to let him know that the car was already outside. Stephen smiled at the driver, his dual dimples and bright gray eyes immediately bringing the man, who had been nervous about picking up such a high profile client, at ease. “Good morning. You can just call me Stephen. And you are?”

The driver held out his hand for a quick shake. “Thomas, sir. Will you be needing to stop anywhere before heading to the university?” Thomas waited for Stephen to slide into the backseat before closing the door, walking around and slipping into the driver’s seat of the fully loaded Range Rover Autobiography. The interior was a two-tone black and white ordeal, with plush leather seats complete with contrast red stitching. Stephen shook his head. “Just the University.”

They arrived on time, thanks in part to Thomas’ quick thinking and avoidance of any major avenues. Stepping out, Stephen thanked Thomas, who promptly informed him that the car was his for the whole day. Entering the University was like stepping through a time portal. Familiar sights, sounds and smells filled Stephen’s senses, immediately putting him at ease. He had spent five years here, studying Computer Engineering, before completing his MBA. His Ferragamo clad feet carried him through the halls without thought, allowing him the opportunity to look around. Most of the students were dressed as they should be, in jeans and college sweatshirts, backpacks full of boring textbooks strapped tightly to their bodies. In comparison, Stephen’s tailored Armani suit stood out like a sore thumb. Dark gray, with almost invisible pinstripes, the suit fit his trim build almost perfectly. Underneath, he wore a pressed white shirt, with a light blue tie cinched around his neck. On his wrist was his prized possession, a titanium finish, skeleton faced Audemars Piguet; a gift from his best friend and business partner, T rish.

Friday mornings were Sylvia ‘s favorite. She had no classes, and usually spent them lazing around in her pajamas, avoiding all responsibility. Today though, her roommate, Cynthia, had woken her up bright and early, clamoring about a guest speaker that they HAD to go see. Unwilling to disappoint her, Sylvia, pulled herself out of bed, thankful that she had showered the night before, as dealing with wet curls would have been a nightmare. Dressing didn’t take long after Sylvia decided what to wear. Considering the weather, she picked out a daffodil yellow dress that stopped just above her knees, with black tights and a denim jacket. On her feet, were a pair of dark brown faux leather boots she’d managed to scavenge from a thrift store only a few weeks prior. Doing her makeup took longer, but again, she kept it simple. Some foundation, a dab of blush, mascara a nd eyeliner were all she needed before the waiting game began.

Hoping for the speaker’s attention, who was apparently some, “Smoking hot!” (Cynthia’s words) eligible bachelor, Cynthia took ages to pick out an outfit and to do her makeup. However, when she stepped out into the living room, Sylvia had to admit she looked beautiful. Cynthia was what most would describe as the classic blonde. Her perfectly layered hair fell in waves down to the middle of her back, framing her soft featured face which was already starting to pick up a tan. Unwilling to leave anything to chance, Cynthia had picked out a knee-length blush pink dress that was seemingly designed specifically to show off her curvaceous body. Her full chest, which Sylvia knew needed a DD bra, was on prominent display, thanks to the plunging neckline of the dress. “You look gorgeous, Cyn, but do you really think this is necessary? He’s just some guy!”

Cynthia looked almost hurt, before throwing her roommate a sly smile. “This guy happens to be worth millions. You and I both know Columbia ain’t cheap, girl. I even put on some lacy lingerie.” Cynthia finished with a wink, turning quickly to leave Sylvia with a shocked expression. She looked down at her own outfit, smoothing out the well-worn dress before reassuring herself that it didn’t even matter.

The walk to Roone Arledge Auditorium took no longer than ten minutes, and soon after, they’d found their seats. To Cynthia’s dismay, a group of business students had beaten them there, securing the first few rows before she could. Settling with the center of the room, they looked up to see a picture of the speaker projected onto the large screen behind the podium. Sylvia had to admit, he was handsome. He had tanned skin, with piercing grey eyes, his slightly messy brown hair swept across his head just right enough that you knew it took longer than expected to accomplish. His best feature though, was his smile. Straight white teeth, flanked on either side by a dimple with smile lines forming around his eyes. He looked compassionate. Before she could analyze his image any longer, the University’s provost walked onto the stage, to middling applause.