Isabel, The Beauty Next Door Pt. 07

"Oh, my, god," Sofia says exaggeratedly as she takes in the sight of my naked torso.

"Thanks," I say as I look at Isabel's proud face. I'm not one to show my body off, but this is Isabel's moment, not mine. "I best help Troy pack up. I'll see you back at the flat?" I ask. Isabel nods with a satisfied smile as she looks for a goodbye kiss. I plant one delicately on her lips, as she absently runs her fingers down my chest and over my abs. I take my t-shirt back, turning away, I walk over to pack my bags and load the car up. I slip a clean shirt on as I glance across to Isabel who's making her way out for lunch. As she goes to turn the corner, she turns back and smiles. With a wave goodbye, she disappears.

I sneaked back into my last lesson of the day without much fuss. I had forewarned the professor that I would be a little late, and he was fine as long as I didn't create any disturbance.

Life at Cambridge seems to have settle down. Isabel is so much happier now that all the attention has gone away from her. We settle into a routine, and the weeks fly past. My project for Mr. Smithe is coming along in leaps and bounds. Everything seemed to click into place. I did the research and math for the structure. I tested my theory and then put them to practice. This time around, everything added up and proved correct.

Before we know it, Christmas is knocking on the door. The day we take our projects in to be checked and scored is wet and windy. I walk into the building to find Professor Smithe. He isn't in his office, and a number of students are in the same boat as me. We finally find one of the other Professors to ask, and he makes a phone call.

He walks out of his office to where we are waiting. "Can I have your attention? Mr. Smithe has been caught up in a different part of the University but has made room 203 available. Apparently, he has allocated everyone space to display their work."

The classroom has been laid with tables and a board to display the math behind it. I had asked why we weren't doing this on the computer. "We had to know how to do it properly before using different tools to achieve the same goal," was the answer.

I spend two hours setting everything out and ensuring my presentation is above the standard I think is required. When I am happy, I take some photos and one last look before I leave. The students who had left it to the last minute were still coming in as I was on my way home.

******

We have promised our parents that we will be home for Christmas. On the way home, we stop off to see Isabel's Gran. I have also promised Andrew Sampson that we will make the company end-of-year meeting and the Christmas party that follows. I also have a presentation to do. This gives us a chance to stay with Sam and catch up, so we are killing three birds with one stone. It will take us four days to get home with a two-day stopover in Exeter.

We walk in through the front door of Sampson Harris. "James, Isabel," Debra says from behind the front desk.

"Debra, strange to see you at the front desk?"

"Lidia is off today. She will be in for the party this afternoon, though." She picks the phone up. "Hi Andrew, you asked me to let you know when James Stokes arrives. That's fine; I'll send him up." She looks up, "Would you mind signing Isabel in? Andrew would like to see you before proceedings start."

"No problem." I sign Isabel in, and we make our way upstairs.

I knock on Andrew's door. "Come in, James."

"Hi Andrew, how have you been?"

"Hello, James," he says, sounding a little exasperated. "Hello Isabel, it's good to see you again. Please take a seat." We both sit, not feeling as confident as we did when we walked in. Andrew lets out a breath that he's been holding. "James, I have to tell you that I'm very disappointed. I expected so much, and from what Mr. Smithe told me on the phone yesterday, you've delivered so little."

I frown, not sure what he's talking about. "I'm sorry, Andrew, I don't quite understand what you're referring to," I say starting to feel worried.

"Your first project falls way short of the expected standard." He sits back and puts his hands behind his head while I absorb what he said. He then adds, "From the report he sent, I am wondering if you tricked your way in here."

I look at Isabel, and she's sat there with her mouth open. She knows that her place at Cambridge is reliant on me. I see her eyes start to glaze. I close my eyes and then take a deep breath to calm myself before speaking. "I'm sorry, Andrew. I firmly believed that I had more than covered the criteria set out." I tried to think for a moment to see where I had gone wrong. My mind thinks back to when I set up my presentation and thought my display was better than others I had seen.

Andrew then stands and walks to the window. "As it stands, I'm going to suggest to Edward that we consider cutting our losses."

Isabel grabs my hand, and I look into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, babe. I thought I had done a good job."

"A good job? If that's what you call a good job, you best walk out that door right now." Andrew says in a raised, aggravated voice. "I don't get it. What happened to the James we saw at College? Did Collin Jenkins help you?"

There's a knock at the door, and Edward sticks his head through the crack. "Is everything okay?"

I am speechless, but Andrew looks toward his partner. "I had a phone call from Smithy. He says that James has come way below what he is looking for."

Edward walks in, "I can't believe that. There must be some sort of mistake. From what Drew has told me, she couldn't have done the Dubai job without him."

Andrew looks at him and nods his head. He walks back to his desk and sits down. "But what about the report from Smithy? We can't just ignore it."

"I know, but you must remember that this decision doesn't just affect James. Can we phone Smithy and see what he thinks?"

Andrew gives him an annoyed look but picks up his phone. He goes through his contacts and calls the Professor. "Smitheeeee....." He listens for a moment. "Yeah, hang on, mate, I want to put you on speaker." He puts the phone on his desk. "I'm here with Edward, James, and his girlfriend, Isabel. We are trying to work out what we are going to do. From your report, it sounds like James has fallen way below the standard both of us are expecting."

"Yes, hi everyone. Sorry James, but what you presented was incomplete and poorly displayed. Your working out was all over the place...... I must admit that I expected more from you with our conversations in class."

I cough to clear my dry throat. "I'm sorry, Professor, but the project was complete, and the Math all seemed to predict what the test rigs showed. I don't understand where I went wrong."

"Hang on, James, but there was no test rig data, and your model didn't fit the road surface provided."

I stop and think for a moment. "I put the set road pieces in, and it looked fine. I don't understand." I get my phone out, find the pictures I took, and show Edward.

Edward takes my phone and looks at the pictures. "I must admit, Professor, his presentation is of a third year, not a first. I'm quite impressed." He hands my phone to Andrew.

Andrew's eyes widen, "Smithy, this isn't the presentation you explained to me. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure, Andrew, but can you send me the photos? I will look into it."

The Professor makes a quick exit, and Andrew and Edward are left looking at each other. "I'm sorry, James, I think I've handled this wrong and not started our working relationship on the right foot." Andrew looks at Edward. "Until we hear back from Smithy, I guess there's nothing to discuss, and judging by the photo, we will still have nothing to discuss." He returned my phone, "would you mind e-mailing me them?"

"Yes, sure, so we're good?"

"Yeah, sorry, I jumped straight on your back there."

I let out a breath of relief and smile at Isabel. "Are you okay, Iz?"

"Yeah, I thought I was going to have a heart attack for a second."

"I'm sorry, Isabel, I hope this hasn't made you think twice about joining us," Edwards says, seeing the collateral damage that could have happened.

Isabel smiles. "I assure you, Edward, that this hasn't changed anything. I will always be grateful for the opportunity your company has given me."

We get up, and leave Andrew's office, making our way to the hub. The morning hasn't started yet, and I need a coffee.

******

"Hello?" I say, walking in through the kitchen door.

"Jayyyyy...." Sarah comes running in from the family room and throws herself at me. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you as well, little sister," I say, returning her hug.

"Where's Isabel?"

"She's gone next door to see her parents." As soon as my words leave my mouth, I hear Zac give a little gasp and run out through the back door.

"Jay, you're back," my mother says, walking into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mum," I say as I am enveloped in a second pair of arms. As my mother releases me, she hits my arm. "What was that for?"

"Not talking to your Mum enough."

"I keep telling you to get WhatsApp on your phone, and you can always message me. Sarah is always saying 'Hi.' Anyway, I did Skype you when we were both available."

"I know, but a mother is allowed to miss her son, isn't she?"

I walk to the sink and grab the kettle. "Surprised you noticed I was gone," I say under my breath.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, Mum." I let out a breath, not wanting to cause an argument. "So, will we have the pleasure of Bradly home for Christmas?" I ask, changing the subject.

"No, Christmas is a busy part of the football calendar. We will be going down for the Christmas Eve match against Bristol Rovers, and there's also the matter of the third round FA cup tie against Birmingham City early in the new year."

"Are you going up for that?"

"Not sure; Bradly will get back to us. He doesn't know if he can get tickets for an away match." I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, Jay, you need to show your brother some support."

"Why? He's never given me a second thought."

"I think he will surprise you. He even asked after you when we went down last month. At least think about coming down for the Rovers match."

"I will see what Isabel wants to do."

Mum pats me on the shoulder, "That-a-boy." I've always hated it when she did that. "One last thing, we're all going out to dinner this evening. You'll need to wear something smart."

"Who's we?" The kettle clicks off, and I pour the hot water into the pot.

"The Stokes and the Richards. We want to welcome you home properly."

I finish making the tea and sit at the table. For the rest of the day, I unload the car. I also fire up my work computer and chat with Drew about the project we have been working on together. It was a rare opportunity to get some real brainstorming done at the Christmas party, and she showed me some of the ideas we had put into practice.

The build-up to Christmas is much the same. Isabel and I spend a lot of time together. We go to The Thatch for a meal and drinks. We go into Barnstaple for those last-minute items we didn't get in Cambridge.

Christmas Eve arrives, and we are getting ready to leave for Plymouth. Isabel was surprisingly okay with going down to watch the football. It's not something I would choose to do, but the club does like to emphasize the family side of the club around the Christmas period. Luckily we are only going for the day. The drive down is slow and takes two and a half hours. We stop at a pub on the way to have lunch, which takes up about forty minutes.

We are ushered into the player's lounge before the match and are greeted by members of the board and club's fan club. I shake many hands, and surprisingly many people seem to know who I am.

Three o'clock, and it's time for kickoff. Bradly is on the bench today but should get on for the second half. He's becoming a bit of a super-sub, coming off the bench several times this season to steal a late winner.

We are in the main stand and are sitting behind the home side dugout. When Bradly came out, he gave us a wave before taking a seat. He says something to the guy next to him, and he looks behind. The guy then does something strange and gives Bradly an impressed look before settling in as the Ref blows for the game to start.

It's a bit of a cliché, but this is a game of two halves. The first half belongs to Bristol Rovers. They are up by two goals within the thirty-minute mark and controlling the game. Just before halftime, Plymouth gets the ball from a loose pass on the halfway. The number nine receives the ball and crosses it perfectly for the number sixteen to head home. The home stadium comes to life, and suddenly the home side are back in it.

Half time and the score is two-one to the away side. Even for me, it is turning into an interesting game, and I genuinely hate football.

"Sit here and look after Sarah," Dad says as he and Mum disappear.

"Where are they going?" I ask Sarah.

"To get the halftime food," she replies.

Ten minutes later, Dad gets back with a tray of drinks, and Mum has five portions of chips. As we settle, the teams come out for the second half, and Plymouth starts the brighter side but can't find that all-important goal. I see Bradly begin to warm up.

"Looks like Bradly will come on in a minute," Mum says. I grunt a response and finish my pint of lager my dad had bought me.

Ten minutes later, the fourth official holds the board with the number eight and Bradly's number forty-six. He reckons he chose that number because David Beckham was twenty-three, and Bradly's twice the play he was. I remember pointing out that if that were the case, he would be playing for Manchester United or Chelsea and not Plymouth, which didn't go down well.

Bradly jogs onto the pitch and goes over and says something to one of the other players. He doesn't look too happy and glances at the bench. The Ref blows for play to continue, and the ball is thrown back into play.

Bradly takes a slightly deeper role than the man he replaced. This gives Plymouth an advantage in midfield, and the game dramatically swings in their favor. It takes five minutes for Plymouth to break through the Rover defense, but Bradly shoots just wide. This gives The Pilgrims a considerable boost, and the traffic is one way now.

Bradly gets the ball just outside the box but is pushed wide. Just as we think the chance has gone, he spins, sending the defender the wrong way, and crosses the ball for the number eleven to head home. This brings the sides level. Plymouth are now looking for the winner but leave space at the back, allowing Bristol Rovers to hit them on the break.

In the eighty-ninth minute, the Bristol defender makes a long clearance straight to their lone striker. He has a clear run at goal, and the home side holds their breath. The goalkeeper runs out to close the gap and slides in, stealing the ball from the opposition's player. He's up on his feet in one move and hits a long ball right in the path of Bradly. He sidesteps the defender and hits a shot toward the goal, catching the keeper out of position. The ball floats over the goalie's outstretched arm and sneaks in off the post. The home crowd goes wild, and even I get caught up in the excitement, hugging Isabel and my little sister.

The final whistle goes with the game finishing three to two. This season is going well for Plymouth after a slow start, and they are in contention with the playoff places. We head back towards the player's lounge and grab a seat before it fills with home supporters and the team.

I go up to the bar to get a round in. Isabel comes with me to help carry back the glasses. "That game was better than I thought," Isabel says while we wait to get served.

"Yeah, I must admit it was better than the games we used to get dragged to." I look around to see a group of lads walk in. I turn to the barman, who is now waiting to take my order. "Can I have a pint of Best, Two pints of cider, an apple and raspberry J2O, and a lemonade, please?" I had to shout over the cheers of the approaching lads. Isabel quickly moves behind me as they approach the bar.

The group all stop and lean against the rail that surrounds the entire length of the bar. One of the guys turns and shouts toward Isabel, "Hello gorgeous, what are you doing with this loser?" I turn toward the guy with a none-to-happy look on my face. The lad holds his hand up, "Sorry mate, I was only pulling your chain."

"Leave it, Jay," Isabel says in my ear. "This is why I avoid these places."

The guy overhears her. "Jay? You would happen to be Bradly's little brother, would you?"

"I'm not sure half an hour difference would make that much difference in size, but yes, I am Bradly's twin brother."

"Hear that lads, this is Bradly's twin brother," he shouts. "That would make you Isabel, the girl he stole off Bradly."

Isabel is a little pissed by this. "For James here to have stolen me from Bradly would have meant that Bradly had some chance with me In the first place."

"Well, I got the impression that he had a football match to attend, and when he was away, you sneaked in and stole her."

"Funny how two people have two different recollections of the same event," I say as the barman returns with my drinks and hand over thirty quid. "What bullshit did my brother come out with?" This abruptness unsettles him, and he loses the cocky smile, so I add, "Bradly never stood a chance with Isabel even if I didn't exist. For your information, Bradly presumed she would be like every other female and drop her knickers as soon as she heard his crapy chat-up lines."

The lad takes a sharp intake of breath. He smiles and then pats my shoulder. "You're right there. I reckon most girls take pity on him." He laughs, "He said you were a tough nut to crack."

I pick up the two pints. "You don't know the half of it." I smile at him, and I follow Isabel back to the table.

Ten minutes later, we hear a loud cheer as the team walks in. Bradly walks over to the table and sits next to me. "Hey, well done, son," my dad says, getting up to shake Bradly's hand.

"Wow, with what did you have to bribe Jay to get him down here?" He says, nudging me with his elbow.

"I thought I'd make an effort; seeing as it's Christmas and all," I say.

"Well, it's good to see you and you, Isabel," he says, looking around me.

"Bradly," Isabel says in return.

I'm a little amazed at Bradly's more mature attitude. I still have his friend's words buzzing around in my head. Bradly gets up and goes up to the bar. Another cheer goes up when he nears his friends. The lad I was talking to obviously says something because they both look our way and Bradly's smile slips for a moment.

"Well, drink up. It looks like we've lost Bradly for the foreseeable future, and we need to get home," my mother says as she gets out of her seat. She walks over to Bradly and tells him we are leaving.

He comes back over with her. "Okay, guys, have a good Christmas. I might make it up for the New Year or just after." He shakes my hand, then Isabel's. He hugs Sarah and then hugs mum before shaking hands with dad. "See you soon," he says before heading back to the bar.

The drive home is quiet, and Isabel falls asleep on me as we crossed the Moor's back towards North Devon, only to wake as we approached Barnstaple.

Christmas is good. Both Isabel's and my family had dinner together. The weather wasn't the best, so we spent some days just curled up on my sofa watching films. Every cloud does have a silver lining as we take full advantage of our quality time together.

******

Back in Cambridge, the first thing to happen is I had an appointment with Professor Smithe.

"Ah, James, come in," he says as I knock on his open office door. I take a seat, and he takes a deep breath. "First of all, I would like to apologize because nobody was there to show you where you were supposed to set up. When I came in to look, I assumed everything was where it should be. So when I viewed your area and the display there, I presumed that was yours. I spent a large chunk of the Christmas period quantifying and checking the right person gets the right grade."