Chapter 2: The Collaboration Clause [Episode 1]
1060 Words
The Rotman School of Management building was everything Robarts Library wasn't: sleek, glass-walled, and smelling faintly of expensive air filtration and ambition. Elara felt out of place the moment she stepped onto the polished floors. She was wearing her "lucky" green sweater—the one Madi insisted on—but she’d paired it with her battered Doc Martens and a tote bag that featured a quote from A Room of One's Own.
She was five minutes early, which for Elara was a miracle, yet the lecture hall was already buzzing.
Professor Halloway, a woman who wore power suits like armor and spoke in bullet points, stood at the front. "Find a seat, everyone. Grab a syllabus from the front. We have a lot of ground to cover before the drop-date."
Elara grabbed the stapled packet and scanned the room. The seating wasn't in traditional rows; it was a 'collaborative' setup with sleek, white teardrop-shaped tables designed to fit two people.
Her heart did a slow, heavy thud against her ribs when she saw him.
Julian Thorne was seated at a table in the second row. He looked exactly as Madi had described: legendary. He was hunched slightly over a laptop that looked impossibly thin, his fingers moving across the keys with a rhythm that suggested he was already drafting a three-year plan for his life. He was wearing a fresh black turtleneck—no salt stains in sight—and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses that made him look terrifyingly intelligent.
The table next to him was occupied. The table behind him was full. The only empty seat in his immediate vicinity was the one directly across from him.
Elara hesitated. She could walk to the back. She could sit with the guy in the "Crypto Bro" t-shirt who was currently eating a protein bar.
But then Julian looked up.
His gaze caught hers, and for a second, the bustle of the room faded into white noise. He didn't wave. He didn't smile. He just slowly closed his laptop and pulled out the chair opposite him with the toe of his boot.
It was a silent challenge.
Elara took a breath, adjusted her bag, and marched down the aisle. She sat down, dropping her heavy bag on the floor with a loud thump that made a few nearby students jump.
"No latte today?" Julian asked, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the ambient noise of the room.
"I decided to leave the projectiles at home," Elara replied, smoothing out her syllabus. "I see the sweater survived the Himalayan treatment."
"It’s in recovery. My mother doesn't need to know how close she came to losing her favorite gift." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "I didn't realize English majors were allowed in this building. I thought the glass walls might be too modern for your sensibilities."
"It’s an elective, Accountant. I’m here to learn how to speak your language so I can eventually negotiate my book deals without getting cheated."
"Ambitious," he murmured. "And practical. I'm impressed."
Before she could think of a retort, Professor Halloway clapped her hands.
"Alright, listen up. This is Business Communications 301. By the end of this semester, you will be able to write a report that doesn't make a CEO want to cry, and you will give a pitch that could convince a shark to buy water."
A few students chuckled. Julian didn't. He was already pensively tapping a stylus against his tablet.
"Turn to page four of your syllabus," Halloway continued. "The Term Project. This is fifty percent of your grade. It is a collaborative feasibility study. You will work in pairs to identify a market gap, conduct a full analysis, and write a forty-page formal report."
A collective groan went up from the room.
"But," Halloway raised a finger. "There is a catch. In the real world, you don't always work with people who think like you. In fact, that’s how 'groupthink' happens, and groupthink is where profits go to die. So, for this project, you are forbidden from partnering with someone in your own faculty."
Elara froze. She slowly turned her head to look at Julian. He was already looking at her, his slate-grey eyes narrowed in calculation.
"English and Literature," she whispered.
"Accounting and Finance," he replied.
"I need a scavenger hunt partner," Halloway announced, oblivious to the tension at table twelve. "Stand up. Find someone from a different faculty. Exchange contact info, verify their major, and sign off on each other’s syllabus. This person will be your partner for the rest of the year. Go."
The room erupted into chaos as eighty students stood up and began shouting their majors like they were at a livestock auction.
"I'm Kinesiology! Anyone need a Kin major?"
"Computer Science! Looking for anything but STEM!"
Elara didn't move. Neither did Julian. They sat in the eye of the storm, staring at each other across the white table.
"I’m very demanding," Julian said, his voice cutting through the noise. "I don't accept anything less than an A-plus. I have a 3.9 GPA to maintain before I start my internship at Deloitte."
"I have a 4.0," Elara snapped back, her competitive streak flaring up. "And I don't just 'do' the work, Thorne. I perfect it. I’ve spent three years learning how to make words dance. I can make a feasibility study read like a Pulitzer-winning novel."
"I don't need a novel. I need data, clarity, and zero typos."
"Then you need me."
Julian looked at her for a long, quiet moment. He reached out and picked up her syllabus, sliding his expensive fountain pen out of his pocket.
"What are we doing the project on?" she asked, watching him sign his name in that neat, architect-style script.
"Something profitable," he said, handing the paper back.
"Something meaningful," she countered, taking the pen to sign his.
Julian watched her write. "We have four months to find a middle ground, Vance. Try not to spill any ink on the contract."
She clicked her tongue. It took everything in her to not kick his shins from under the table.
- Writer
