Hated for Loving
By December Lewis


Chapter Three – Meeting…that person

 
	First meetings are very important in the beginnings 
of any relationship.  As part of his research, Crushingham 
had had his graduate students read and code real and fictional 
romantic meetings, both from the male and female point of view.  
While the meetings had very little in common, not one of them 
happened around a table in a classroom talking about release 
forms.  So, Crushingham arranged the first meeting to be in 
one of the many park-like places on campus.  And he arranged 
to tape it.  Now, he realized that he was playing fast and 
loose with Internal Review Board requirements of informed 
consent, and, possibility, he would not be allowed to use 
this taped meeting in his final documentary, but the first 
meeting was too crucial to let little things like rules and 
ethics get in the way.


	So, the scene was set very carefully.   A quad 
in the center of the university was chosen.  The female, 
Miranda, was asked to arrive ten minutes before the male, 
Andrew, so that she could “catch his eye from a distance.”  
The people working the cameras, Tanya’s younger brother 
Vance and some students from the mass media department, 
were told to be in place forty minutes beforehand and to 
be unobtrusive.  


	Unfortunately, that beautiful scene didn’t happen.


	First, Dr. Crushingham hadn’t factored in the interest 
of the student body.  A good hundred of them were gathered at 
one end of the quad, shouting at the participants while trying 
to get on camera as well.  Some frat pledges were even chanting 
something rather offensive at the edge of the group.  One thing 
was certain; this crowd didn’t set the mood.
	
	
	Second, Miranda showed up five minutes earlier than Dr. 
Crushingham expected…and she almost turned around and left upon 
seeing the crowd.  After convincing her to stay, Tanya got the 
younger woman settled on the bench, but Miranda didn’t look off 
in the distance in a beautiful pose, as the professor had hoped 
that she would.  Instead, she clutched an object she wore around 
her wrist and looked down in her lap, which meant the sunlight 
didn’t catch her pitch black hair as well.  It didn’t help when 
some of the women in the crowd began to point to her and chant 
“Freak show!  Freak show!”


	Third, the camera crew was having issues.  In trying to 
fix sound and taping problems with the equipment, Vance and crew 
had had to disassemble a few cameras, which meant they took longer 
than Dr. Crushingham had planned for set-up; as it was, the camera 
crew were still trying to fix some problems.  All of this meant 
that they weren’t subtly hidden.   Oh no, the camera crew were out 
in force, which only encouraged the crowd.


	All in all, it was not a romantic setting Dr. Crushingham 
had planned, but, it somehow managed to work in the beginning.  
When Andrew approached the quad from the left, his eyes first went 
to Miranda’s form on the bench.  He paused for a minute, just as 
entranced as any good hero should be in a romance.  After a few 
minutes of just looking, Mr. Champion walked with determination 
over to Miranda.  A little frustrated that the cameras were not 
there to capture what was sure to be a great first line, Dr. 
Crushingham leaned in anyway, in hopes that he could remember 
what happened during this meeting without media support.  


	Strangely enough, when Andrew reached Miranda, he just 
stopped.  He didn’t speak or anything.  He just stood there, 
blocking her sunlight.  It was almost as if he had an attack 
of the nerves or was robbed of speech.  Frustrated and impatient, 
Dr. Crushingham kept his attention on the couple, hoping that 
something would happen before he had to intrude and introduce 
his two subjects.  He didn’t want to introduce them if he could 
avoid it; it wasn’t nearly romantic enough.  


	Luckily, Dr. Crushingham was given a reprieve, as the young 
woman on the bench began to stir.  After sitting in someone’s shadow 
for a few minutes, Miranda looked up, curious about who had been 
blocking her sun.  She raised an eyebrow as she saw the seemingly 
nervous blond haired young man in front of her.  Her eyes sparkled 
as she took in his choice of outfit, the standard khaki pants and 
light yellow button-down shirt.  It was quite a contrast next to 
her own dark gray cashmere sweater and black pants, but it didn’t 
give her any clues as to why he was quietly standing just to her 
right.  At first she wondered if he was part of the camera crew, 
but, as no one in the crew had shouted at him to help, Miranda 
eliminated that possibility.  He didn’t look old enough to be a 
graduate student in Miranda’s mind, so he probably wasn’t an 
assistant of Dr. Crushingham.  He did look familiar, although 
Miranda wasn’t sure why.  And, in the few minutes she had been 
deep in thought trying to figure out who he was, he still hadn’t 
spoken.  She raised her right eyebrow slightly, a subtle 
request for him to identify himself or to move.


	Oddly enough, the young man seemed to understand what she was 
trying to convey, as he cleared his throat and said, “Hi.  I’m Andrew.  
You must be Miranda?”  After this he held out a hand.


	Nodding, Miranda took his hand to shake it.  It was a normal 
handshake, after a fashion, but Andrew seemed to hold onto her hand.  
After gently pulling her hand out of his, she gestured to a space next 
to her on the bench, which the young man quickly took.


	The moment would have been ripe for some sweet, if stilted, 
conversation, if the crowd hadn’t intervened.  As soon as Andrew sat 
down, the sun struck him, making him clearly visible to the women in 
the crowd on the other end of the quad.  With a scream of “That’s 
Andrew Champion!” the chaos ensued.


	“Andrew! Andrew!  Look at me.”


	“Andrew! My number is 867-5309.  My name is Jenny.  Call me!”


	“Andrew, you are sooo hot!”


	“I can’t believe it’s Andrew!”


	“Andrew, you were wonderful in that last water polo game!”


	As the crazy shouting and shoving coming from the female half 
of the crowd continued, Miranda turned to look at her bench partner.  
At least the last comment helped her place the young man.  She had 
gone with the other girls on her hall (much to their discomfort and 
dismay) to the first water polo game of the semester.  They’d all 
gone to gush over this Andrew guy; she’d gone because water polo 
sounded interesting and because Suzette had begged Miranda to try to 
get more involved with the other girls on the hall.  She recognized 
the young man on the bench next to her from that game.  Surprisingly 
enough, sharing the bench with her  was the captain of the undefeated 
water polo team, awash in praise from the some of the besotted women 
of their fine university.


	After realizing who the young man was, Miranda searched for 
something to say.  Even though she appeared mysterious and self-assured 
to many who didn’t know her, Miranda was still a second semester 
freshmen.  And, like most second semester freshmen, she had no 
idea what to say to a second semester sophomore, especially a 
very popular and attractive one.  The upperclassmen and freshmen 
falling over themselves to get the young man’s attention weren’t 
helping her nerves either.  In the end, as she opened her mouth, 
she hoped she’d say something witty.  Unfortunately, “Bring the 
fan club?” in a wiry tone was all Miranda managed to be able to utter. 


	The young man next to her reacted in a way Miranda didn’t 
expect.  Instead of puffing up and talking about how wonderful he 
was or taking issue with her tone, he blushed!  Then, looking 
sheepish, he said, “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know 
them?”  At her continued stare, he insisted, “No, really!  I don’t 
know them.  Oh, this is so embarrassing!”


	The young woman on the bench blinked in surprise at her 
bench partner’s response and opened her mouth to reply in some way.  
More than likely, the reply would have started some sort of light 
conversation, if not for the fact that someone in the crowd finally 
put two and two together.  After some furious whispering and before 
Miranda could say anything, someone shouted, “No!  They can’t mean 
to pair Andrew with that freak!”  And the shouts began again.


	“Andrew, I’ll save you!  Come with me."


	“The only reason Andrew is with that freak is because he 
has to be.”


	“I mean look at her!  What in the world is she wearing, 
anyway?  Eww!”


	“Enjoy it while you can, freak!  No guy would want you 
anyway."


	Not to be outdone, the frat boys and other assorted males 
in the group began to shout at the couple as well.  Their shouts 
didn’t make Miranda feel any more comfortable.


	“Damn, she’s hot!"


	“Hey, if Andrew can’t handle you, baby, I sure can!”


	“What’s your fantasy, baby?”


	“Those pants look good on you.  They’d look even better 
on my floor!”


	And, to top it all off, the frat boys started chanting 
part of a chorus of a popular song, “Can we leave her?  Yeah!  
Can we leave her? Yeah!”


	All and all, it was a mood breaker.  Miranda paled.  
Blinking several times, she grabbed onto a pendant hanging 
from her wrist and took a deep breath.  Turning away from 
Andrew, she lowered her head for a moment.  When she raised 
it again, her face was expressionless.  The only thing that 
betrayed her feelings was the death grip she still had on the 
pendant.  


	Miranda shook her head.  She had known this was a 
bad idea, but she’d hoped that this would be different somehow.  
As the noise of the crowd grew, Miranda decided that she had 
taken enough abuse.  She was either going to scream back or 
walk away.  She was ready to do the latter, but a soft statement 
that clearly showed annoyance and anger made her stop.


	“I hate catty women,” Andrew shared softy.  “And some 
men just need to learn to keep in it their pants.”  


	With that, Miranda spun around in her seat to stare at 
Andrew, confusion apparent in her eyes.  Once again, his response
wasn't what she expected, although she wasn't really sure what she
expected in that situation.  On top of his quiet statement, he 
was looking at her with something in his eyes that was hard to 
identify.  Miranda may have actually asked about it if Dr. 
Crushingham hadn’t picked that moment to walk over and talk to them.


	“Miranda, Andrew.  It is good to see you both again.  
I’m glad you both could make it.”


	“Are you going to tell us a little more about this project 
of yours now?” Andrew asked, still slightly peeved about how he was 
shanghaied into doing this, regardless of the opportunity to meet 
Miranda.


	“Actually,” the professor equivocated, “if I tell you too 
much, it will ruin the project, but I promise to debrief you as 
soon as the project is finished.’


	Miranda’s eyes narrowed at this, “Shouldn’t we have to 
sign some kind of release form or something before this starts?”  


	Dr. Crushingham smiled outside while he groaned inside.  
He had been warned by other professors that Miranda was pretty 
bright.  It figures she’d notice the deviation from protocol.  
“Don’t worry, Miranda.  We’ll take of that soon.”


	“I have a class in ten minutes,” Miranda felt compelled 
to point out.


	“Okay,” Dr. Crushingham said.  Turning over his shoulder, 
he shouted, “Vance, do we have a mobile camera ready, yet?”  
After something unintelligible was shouted back, Dr. Crushingham 
returned his attention to the couple.  “Okay, well, we won’t 
get much else done today.  Andrew, why don’t you walk Miranda 
to class?  We’ll just get some footage of that, and we’ll be 
in touch with you both soon.”


	Miranda shrugged as she stood and picked up the black 
bag at her feet, glad for an excuse to get away from the crowd.  
As Andrew rose as well, he offered her his arm.  The offer 
surprised Miranda, but she struggled not to show it.  What 
did she know about how guys treated women when they weren’t 
playing a game?  For that matter, what did she know about how 
guys treated women when they WERE playing a game?  


	“A little old-fashioned, don’t you think?” Miranda asked as 
she raised an eyebrow and accepted Andrew's arm.  


	Andrew smiled, “My sister would beat me up if I didn’t 
offer.”


	“Older sister?” Miranda asked as the two walked away from
the quad, a camera man walking backwards in front of them.


	“Of course,” Andrew laughed as he looked down at
the woman on his arm.  “Younger sisters don’t instill that 
much fear.”



To Be Continued.