Turn The Paige✔

CHAPTER FOUR

Pharmaceutical chemistry was Paige's favourite subject, but she felt miserable. The cloudy day and gloomy weather reflected her dull mood.

She sat in the class enduring the lecture, instead of enjoying it. Somehow, in the midst of concentrating on the molecular structure of Aspirin, her mind drifted to Brian Rochester. She wished that she did not react so sharply. That being said, he gaslighted her, and she hated the awkwardness between them.

They were supposed to travel to Dover together, for the harvesting of lab samples in just a few days time. Are we going to be giving each other the cold shoulder, or worse, one word answers to questions? She wondered. She loved science, but absolutely hated tension in the lab. She worked with a knob head for a class project in secondary school. It was a flaming nightmare.

"Paige," Casey whispered. She gently tapped her shoulder.

Paige was sharply tugged from her thoughts, "Huh?"

"Dr. Lang just asked you a question," Casey said.

Paige raised her head and looked around. Her eyes widened in horror when she noticed all eyes on her. Suddenly, the dome shaped lecture hall looked more like a stadium, and she was the unwilling entertainer under the spotlight.

"Ma'am, could you please repeat your question?" Paige asked as she stood up slowly. Everyone knew that Dr. Lang preferred her students to stand up when speaking in class.

Dr. Lang's piercing grey eyes stared at Paige with a fierce sharpness. "I am quite sure I said it loud and clear the first time," she said sternly.

The hall was silent as the grave. Paige sighed and wondered why lightning struck beautiful trees and buildings, when the ice cold, tin lady, Dr. Lang was walking around in plain sight. She definitely deserved a lightning strike so much more.

Dr. Lang crossed her bulky arms in front of her chest, and shifted her chin to the side in annoyance. Her platinum blonde hair was in its usual tight bun, and her grey skirt suit, matched her stormy eyes.

"Alright, which biochemical is responsible for inflammation, Paige?" she asked, as she took a few steps forward and pursed her lips.

Not today Satan, Paige thought with an internal shout of triumph.

"Phospholipase A2 is the enzyme responsible for the liberation of arachidonic acid from cell membranes at the site of inflammation," Paige replied calmly. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for studying ahead of the class.

The lecturer arched a surprised eyebrow and nodded her head slowly. "Good. Can you explain why it is significant?" She was not about to back off from Paige easily.

Paige smiled. "It is considered to be the limiting agent in the production of inflammatory mediator prostaglandins and leukotrienes secreted by cells, ma'am."

That is how you own a mother trucker. Paige thought. She did not win the Leeds Youth Chemistry prize for nothing.

Dr. Lang gave Paige a curt nod. "Good. You may have your seat."

"Thank you, ma'am," she retorted, as she had her seat. It took a lot of effort to resist the urge to flip her hair.

"Phew, that was close." Casey giggled. "By the way, why have you got your head in the clouds this morning?" she inquired.

Paige hesitated for a moment. The whole 'lab fight' fiasco would sound like something was going on between her and Brian. "It is nothing. I am just a bit homesick." She smiled without mirth and faced the board.

**

Brian rolled up his sleeves and leaned back on his chair in the postgraduate lounge. He had not felt so tense in a long time.

Considering the fact that lab research was intense and time consuming, Landmark University was so gracious to establish it. It was a place where strained and stressed postgraduate students could relax, have a snack or just take a break. The butter yellow walls and coffee brown furniture were carefully colour coded with the cream curtains and warm lighting.

The interior designer said, "Warm and welcoming tones promote good mental health." It seemed like hipster crap to some doctorate students, but Brian was among the most outspoken supporters of the lounge. It was the best thing since sliced bread to him, because he spent more time at the lab than in his house. However, for some strange reason even the 'comfy chair' and the sweet, burnt aroma of coffee were not as soothing as usual.

He glanced at his silver wristwatch and groaned. It was only ten am. Why did time have to go by so slowly? he wondered. He had been feeling uneasy all morning, and his colleague, Jane, was not helping.

"Isn't it time for your practical supervision?" he asked.

Jane chuckled. "No, it is not time. It starts by eleven," she said. Jane bit her lip as she stifled the urge to laugh out loud. She swished her blunt, black bob and her brown eyes twinkled. Her gaze rested on Brian intently.

Brian rolled his eyes. "What? Can't a man sit in the postgraduate lounge in peace?"

"What do you mean, what?" Jane retorted. "Your reference to my 'practical supervision' is clearly an indication of your subconscious mind. You are projecting your thoughts."

Brian scoffed. "Last time I checked, we were pharmacists. Not psychologists."

Jane put her hands on her hips and snarled. "Stop being a toffee nosed muppet. Go and apologize to her."

Brian got up and walked to the window. He laid his hand on the sill and looked at the people sitting in clusters on the grassy field. He ran a hand through his hair, "Why should I...Hey! Wait a minute, what are-"

"I was in the chemical supply store room, adjacent to the lab. I heard...everything." Jane took a sip from her coffee mug and peered at Brian.

"So you were eavesdropping?" Brian deadpanned.

"Don't be ridiculous. It is not my fault that I happened to be there during the filming of act one, scene one of Keeping up with the Rochester's," Jane retorted.

Jane took another sip of her coffee. "All that angst can only mean one thing."

His head snapped in Jane's direction. "There was no angst and I do not have a crush on her. It was just a misunderstanding."

"Who said anything about a crush, Brian?" Jane asked as she bit a biscuit with a cheeky grin on her face.

"She is childish, impulsive and -"

Jane smiled as she set her mug on the table. "But you can't get her out of your head. Can you?"

A nerve in his jaw ticked as he walked away from the window. He glared at Jane, and sat facing her. "If I needed therapy, I would seek professional help."

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion.

"Who's there?" Jane asked.

"Israel Adesanya. Paige Adesanya's father," the voice responded.