French Chemistry Read online

  French Chemistry

  By Sarah Kinsey

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Copyright ©

  2020 Sarah Kinsey All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 1

  Bessie laid back on her bed, smiling. Chemistry had been her thing since she was a kid, but she had not known it was chemistry. Her mother had taught her to bake when she had been old enough to hold a wooden spoon and stir the ingredients. As she had gotten older, and into her science classes in middle and high school, she realized that chemistry and baking had the same vibes.

  You measured, mixed, and tried again if you didn’t get the result you wanted. The only difference was that science required you to write it down. If you didn’t write a recipe down but instead it became muscle memory, that was simply the sign of a good chef. Or so her mother had said.

  She pulled herself off the bed. As much as she would have loved to be able to sit there and enjoy her time, she knew there was more she had to do. The end of her college sophomore year was coming, and she needed to make sure she had all her exams ready and done by the end. Thankfully, most of them were in-person exams she could take in class.

  The only one that she was worried about was an exam she would not even be taking until that fall. She was getting ready for a study abroad in France, Spain, and Luxembourg – three places known for their cooking. It was an interesting thing for a chemistry major to be doing, taking a study abroad journey meant for those going into the culinary arts, but she wanted to use her electives to do something interesting.

  Since the class was an intro chemistry class, and she had technically failed that one when she had taken it because she had a horrible teacher, she had to retake the class anyway. It worked out perfectly, and she thought she would do much better here because it was going to be in a setting she knew and understood. She knew and understood how to cook, and she was looking forward to some of the things on the itinerary.

  For example, while in France, they were going to one of the many culinary schools that the city of Paris had to offer. They would be learning how to make a few French meals while there, and while they were not sure which ones they would be given instruction in yet, she knew that there was going to be a lot of work involved.

  It was French cuisine, of course.

  But before that could happen, Bessie had to focus on passing her classes this semester. She had had to take two intro chem courses, and she had passed one of them with flying colors. The rest of her courses needed the other class – the one she would retake on the study abroad – to be taken. Some needed her to pass both of those classes as prerequisites.

  She shook her head. She had to head to class now that she had spent so much time thinking instead of acting on what she needed to do. She picked up her schoolbag and left her dorm. Her family lived about two and a half hours away in Castle Dale, Utah – but that was only if there was not any construction. And there was always construction in Salt Lake City and the surrounding highways because they always had some kind of a pot hole.

  She walked to class and she found herself one of the first students to arrive, as usual. It was one of her higher-level chemistry classes, the lecture portion. She would be taking the lab portion in a couple of semesters, since she had not passed that one chemistry class.

  She looked around at the students slowly trickling in. There were many who had decided not to attend the final lectures, but Bessie knew that they were simply hurting their grade. Some of the most helpful things on the tests came from the last week of the semester with this teacher, as she had learned the semester before when she had taken another course from the same teacher.

  That had been quite the interesting experience, but it had been worth it.

  A few of her friends filtered in, but Bessie made no move to go talk to them. They were already involved in a conversation, and she felt it would have been rude to interrupt them. Instead, her eyes were now caught by a person she had never seen in the class before. That was not unusual, but for someone to start attending the lectures the week of the last exam was odd. Usually, those who had not shown up for any of the earlier lectures would not show up for the exam.

  Perhaps she had judged him wrong. She got up from her seat and walked over to him. As she walked, she noticed that he had strong, dashing green eyes, and they looked at her as if he was looking into her soul. His brown hair was parted to the side and his chin was square, with a strong jawline; he could have been a model

  It took her a few moments to get the courage up to say anything to him. She had never seen anyone so handsome in a chemistry class before. She doubted he was here for the lesson as she looked over his features, but she had been wrong about that before. After all, the quarterback of the football team was in her class, and he was actually taking the class seriously because he needed a career after his football career ended.

  “Hi,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in this class before.”

  “Ah, that is because I have graduated,” he responded.

  Immediately, his accent took her interest. It was French. She had seen enough movies in French, spent enough time studying the language for her trip to France, to know it. That would also explain why she had thought he could have been a model. He looked a lot like the famous French actors and models that she had seen in those films. She had to admit, she was attracted to him physically, and his accent was not helping her focus.

  “You are French, are you not?” She smiled a little. It was an obvious question, but it was the best she could think of in her situation.

  “Yes,” the man replied. “I’m Marc.” He retained some of the French pronunciation of his name, and that was fine with Bessie.

  “Bessie. Bessie Olson,” she responded. “What did you study?”

  “English, if you can believe that,” he said with a laugh. “A Frenchman studying the language of English... my ancestors would have laughed and called me crazy if they heard.”

  “I suppose so.” Bessie smiled, shaking her head. “But that is all in the past. There is no reason in the world you could not have studied English. What do you wish to do with that?”

  She knew that English majors got enough flak for what they studied. She had had a roommate in the English department, and she had made the mistake of asking if her roommate wanted to go into teaching with it. It seemed that everyone – regardless of whether they knew it or not – associated English degrees with teaching the language to others.

  “I’m to study law starting in the fall,” Marc replied. “I have had so many ask if I mean to teach. If I meant to teach, I would teach my native tongue.” He shook his head. “I would do much better teaching French than English.”

  “That I can believe,” Bessie said. “I hope you en
joy the lecture, but I’m not sure what you mean to get out of it... we are only studying for our final.”

  “That is all right,” Marc replied. “I’m here to meet new people, such as yourself.” He smiled at her.

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Marc, but I had better take my seat and open my notebook. I have to study for the exam,” Bessie added.

  Marc nodded, laughing softly, but he didn’t seem too worried about what was going on.

  As Bessie took her seat, one of her friends looked over to her, and then at Marc, and then faked a whistle at her. She shook her head, rolling her eyes, and then pulled her notebook out for the class. It was a one subject spiral bound, and she had to admit, she really should have gotten a bigger notebook; this was her second notebook for the class.

  The lecture began, but Bessie found herself distracted the entire time. All she could think about was Marc, and what he had been planning for the rest of the semester and for the summer. He was rather handsome, and Bessie could not help but steal a glance or two back at him during the lecture. She didn’t write a single note down the entire lecture, which was very unlike herself.

  When the class was over, she sighed. How could she have allowed herself to become so infatuated with one man, to the point where she barely paid attention to the lecture? Was that who she was now?

  “What was that, Bessie?” One of her friends stopped her at the door.

  “What was what, Sarah? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bessie replied, hoping that it would stop her friend from prying further.

  But, of course, this was Sarah, and Sarah had to know the latest about all the gossip.

  “Who were you staring at through class? Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about; you were as subtle as a train passing late at night – not very.” Sarah laughed a little. “Spill it!”

  “His name is Marc,” she said. “He’s French. I’m allowed to gawk a little over meeting a Frenchman in the middle of Utah, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, I suppose you are,” Sarah said. “Are you sure it wasn’t because you have a thing for accents?”

  Bessie’s cheeks flushed.

  Sarah laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter 2

  Bessie didn’t see Marc again after that, and she felt incredibly foolish. She should have been more forward and asked for his number. It didn’t matter that he was French; she wanted to know him better, and the only way to do that was to make sure that she had a way to contact him.

  The final day of class, as she walked into her chemistry class, she hoped that he would be there again. Unfortunately, he was not. Sarah, however, was already waiting for Bessie.

  “If you’re waiting for Mr. Good Looking French Man, he has not shown up today,” Sarah said. “I know you’ve been watching the door in all our classes, Bessie. In all your classes, I should say.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why you didn’t get his number when you met him. Then this would not have been an issue.”

  “I didn’t think I would be so smitten, Sarah,” Bessie stuttered. “I suppose there’s nothing more to it than that.”

  “Nothing more? Girl, you were so stunned you didn’t take any notes! Were you afraid you wouldn’t be able to concentrate if you had his number?” Sarah shook her head again. “You are better than this, Bessie. I know you are. If you had gotten his number, you wouldn’t be worrying so much now that the semester’s almost over.”

  “You don’t understand, Sarah. He’s graduated.” Bessie sighed. “If I had been thinking about it, I would’ve gotten his number because of that fact alone.” She put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I missed such an opportunity!”

  Sarah sighed, and put a hand on Bessie’s back. “Then, for the moment, forget about him. You’ll have plenty of chances to meet other men here, Bessie,” Sarah said.

  “They won’t all look like French models, though,” Bessie quipped back.

  The teacher came in at that moment, so Sarah couldn’t retaliate that it didn’t matter what the men looked like; it was how they acted that mattered more. Bessie managed to concentrate on her test, and when she was done, she left the classroom immediately, slugging her bookbag over her shoulder. It was her final exam, and she wanted to get out of there.

  She had other things she had to do, and focusing on what she could or could not have done better when it came to getting Marc’s number was not one of the things she had to do right then. She had to finish packing her dorm room for the semester, and she had to make sure she was ready for the drive back to Castle Dale. Her car had lugged everything here and back before; it had to be ready to do it again.

  Sarah caught up to her not long after she left the classroom. “Where are you going, Bessie? I thought we were going to go for ice cream,” Sarah said.

  “I didn’t finish packing last night. I have got to finish. The dorms want me out by tomorrow if I’m not staying the summer,” Bessie reminded her friend. “If you want to help me speed that along, I would be very grateful.”

  “Of course!” Sarah smiled.

  Unlike Bessie, Sarah was an out of state student. She was not going home because it was too expensive, in her opinion, to store everything and fly home for the summer, so she was paying for summer rent. She may have been going home for a week or two, but not for the entire summer.

  “What are your plans this summer, Sarah?” Bessie made some small talk as they walked towards her dorm.

  “I’m flying home for my mother’s birthday, a surprise she doesn’t know about. My father put it all together,” Sarah replied with a dreamy smile. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I fly in and she sees me there for the celebration.”

  “That’s good to hear; you get to see your family for some time, at least,” Bessie said. “I need to pack up my car so I can get everything home.”

  “Are you packing it up tonight?” Sarah furrowed her eyebrows.

  “No. I need to finish packing my crap so I can pack the car tomorrow,” she replied with a laugh. “I suppose that would make it easier to leave tomorrow, but then I couldn’t use my car tonight!”

  “That makes sense,” her friend said, nodding slowly. “What about you? What is your family doing this summer?”

  “We’re going out to Myrtle Beach as a family. I have never been east before, so this will be a fun thing for me,” Bessie started. “I suppose you know a lot about Myrtle Beach. Didn’t you grow up there?”

  “No, I grew up near Virginia Beach,” Sarah said. A small giggle escaped her mouth. “I suppose I could understand how you could mix the two up, but they are not close enough to each other for me to have gone to Myrtle Beach when Virginia Beach was right there!”

  “I’m sorry; I knew it was a beach, but I can never remember which beach you grew up by.” Bessie shook her head. “The life of a rich person, huh?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” Sarah said, reflecting on her own life.

  While Sarah went silent, Bessie could not help but look at her friend again. Though she came from a very wealthy family – her father had gotten into the computer business and had found a small niche that had made him very wealthy early on – she didn’t show it. She dressed plainly, not wearing dressy logos or well-known brands unless she had to. The only time that Sarah had ever flaunted her wealth around Bessie – and intentionally so – had been when she wanted to make a man see what he was missing out on by treating her like his inferior.

  So, she had dressed in head to toe designer wear with large labels in conspicuous places and went to his work. He worked at such a label, and he had never thought she would be able to afford it. So, when she placed an order for a new bag, topping out at something like two thousand dollars Sarah had later told her, the man had been so confused.

  He had not realized who he was dating, and he immediately wanted her back. She told him no, and Bessie had been privileged enough to watch the entire thing happen in the store. Sarah had said the last thing he
would get out of her would be the commission on that bag, and that was it. She had kept her word.

  “What do you think you’ll do after graduation, Bessie?” Sarah’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “I have no idea. I want to go into drug manufacturing, but I have not the first clue about how I would go about doing that,” Bessie admitted. “I think I need to start looking into it sooner rather than later. At least then I’ll have an idea of where I need to go and what I need to do next. What about you?”

  “I think I’m going to grad school. I’m studying chemistry, and I think it’d be fun to have a master’s degree just for the fun of it. Perhaps one day I’ll own a drug company,” Sarah laughed. “Though, I have always been fond of teaching.”

  “I think you’d make a great chemistry teacher, Sarah,” Bessie said honestly. “You have a great personality, and it would give you something to do that would bring in income.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Sarah said, laughing. “I don’t want to be dependent on my father’s money longer than I need to be. That said, I don’t think he’ll stop giving it to me, since I’m his only child, but I want to know that I’ll be able to live independently of him, if that makes sense.”

  “It makes sense to me,” Bessie said.

  They entered her dorm, and then they got to work. They turned on some music, and Bessie showed Sarah what was left to pack. Her kitchen stuff, mainly, had to be packed, but that was the majority of it. Her bedroom could be done tomorrow morning since all that was left was her dirty clothing and her bedding, not to mention the one outfit for tomorrow and a pair of pajamas for tonight. She would pack up her shampoo, body wash, and things of that nature later tonight after her shower.

  “What are you going to do for dinner and breakfast, Bessie?” Sarah frowned. “You won’t have any dish soap or anything to wash dishes with.”

  “Well, I will order pizza, and I have paper plates I can leave out for a night,” Bessie said with a shrug.