The Colours in Your Vials. FutureLearn ‘Start Writing Fiction’ course. Exercise 3.12 – Generate something new.

Written for the Future Learn ‘Start Writing Fiction’ course. Exercise 3.12 – Generate something new

Academics infuriate Amber Lewis and David Ramos is the worst of all...

 The Colours in Your Vials

“Stop. Right There!”

Hearing a male with a divine European accent made Amber Lewis jump. Spanish? Italian? Portuguese?

She turned to see the vision of glinting espresso eyes and jet hair. Perfect stubble surrounding a snarling mouth. Designer jeans, white T-shirt and probably a fragrance from an aspirational advertisement.

“What are you doing with my samples?” growled the Latino male model, clearly teleported by accident into the antiquity of British academia.

“Just admiring the colours in your vials.” Amber smoothed her blonde ponytail.

“Empty the bins and get out. I’m meeting that idiot from Zaxifor in here shortly.”

“Well, I better stay then,” Amber failed to suppress the flicker of anger. He thought she was the janitor. “Professor Ramos? I’m Amber Lewis from Zaxifor.”

“Who?” David Ramos grunted. “Where’s Doctor Portland? Is he coming?”

Amber felt her hackles rising. David Ramos might not look like the academics she usually met with, but he certainly had the social inadequacies and arrogance that she had become accustomed to lately.

“Call me Amber. I hate using formalities. I think Doctor should be reserved for medics, don’t you?” Amber hoped feigning ambivalence about her title would make his blood boil further.

“Where did you you read Doctor Lewis?”

“On the train this morning. I have a Kindle app on my mobile phone,” Amber smirked, not wanting to get into that game of one upmanship of academic establishments.

“I meant where did you study…” David tailed off in irritation.

“Somewhere good enough to get myself a real job.”

“You clearly have a low opinion of us academics, Miss Lewis,” David glared. “Which is surprising seeing as you need us to do your company’s research.”

“It’s called leverage,” Amber smiled. “My time is better spent on business critical activities. Not in the laboratory.”

“Come to my office,” David fumed. “I want to show you something.”

Amber felt a weakening in her stride as she followed him.