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What Roxanne was going to do was, she was going to listen and write down the important points. She certainly wasn't going to think about Brawly and the way he pushed his hair back with his sunglasses when it drifted into his eyes. Or how he looked in those board shorts.
Or what he'd said last Saturday on the beach, when he'd turned to her with that carefree smile and—
Enough. This wasn't working.
She sat up straight and fixed her gaze on the front of the room, where a visiting professor was briefing the Hoenn League on the latest evolutionary technique from Kalos. Of course, none of this came as news to her. She'd read several articles and papers on the subject already.
Still. What she needed was to dismiss these thoughts. Then she'd be back to herself in no time.
It wasn't much different from studying, and Roxanne knew her study methods well. The first step was to eliminate distractions, like optional readings and extra credit assignments. Not to leave them to tug at her mind, until she'd stared at her notes for hours on end without retaining a thing. The trick was to get them out of the way.
It was the responsible choice. It was the most reasonable option. Determinedly, Roxanne flipped to a fresh page in her notebook and began to write.
Reasons Not to Fall for ______
She left his name out of it. It'd be dangerous not to, with him looking at her like that. Why was he looking at her like that?
"Hey, Roxanne," Brawly whispered, leaning over toward her desk. "Lunch after?"
She scrambled to cover her words, knocking her bookbag to the floor. Glacia shot them an unimpressed glare.
1) He gets me grief from the League higher-ups
Glacia didn't get distracted by anything, it seemed. She wasn't married. As far as Roxanne knew, she didn't even have a lover. Perhaps she never had. And how old was Glacia? Forty? Fifty?
Did she want to be fifty and have never had a lover?
Well, it hardly mattered. Her priority at the moment was the furtherance of her Hoenn League career. The other details, she'd decided, would have to wait.
2) I'm in this to succeed—not to lunch with surfer dude over here
So Roxanne raised a chastising finger to her lips and didn't answer. Brawly only grinned.
She bent to pick up her bag, but so did he, beating her to it by mere seconds. He handed it back, his fingers grazing hers, and she felt a blush color her face in spite of herself.
Unbelievable. She hoped to have more control over her emotions than that.
Roxanne had been a Gym Leader for two months. Just two months, and her concentration had begun to slip. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, remembering once again how hard she'd worked to get here. She couldn't falter now—especially not for a boy.
3) If I'm going to make the Elite Four by the time I'm 25, romance is out of the question
Since she'd started at the Rustboro Gym, Brawly had been a near-constant presence in her day-to-day. He'd made a number of offers to help her set up—which, naturally, she'd declined. Just because she and her trainers weren't jocks didn't mean they weren't capable.
And that had been only the start. The other weekend, he'd asked her to Dewford for coffee, to discuss battle strategies and such. An innocuous request, she'd gathered. Like networking. All the professionals did it.
Roxanne had arrived with her notebook and pen. Brawly had arrived with his surfboard in hand, still wet from the waves. He'd neglected to mention the café was on the beach.
Which was downright inappropriate, needless to say. Surely that was no way to conduct a meeting between colleagues. At minimum, one would expect it required a shirt.
4) Unprofessional (e.g. networking in swim trunks)
But try as she might, Roxanne hadn't managed to erase the image from her thoughts since. In fact, they kept returning to it at the most inopportune moments. While training in her gym. At night, before she fell asleep. Right then and there.
That was the Dewford way, Brawly had explained. But if the beach wasn't her scene—he'd given an easygoing shrug—they could meet in Rustboro next time. Next time?
Truth be told, Roxanne didn't think she'd mind a next time. Not because she was interested. Because he'd had some interesting things to say. Things they didn't teach in Trainers' School. Things she hadn't read about in textbooks or encyclopedias or journals.
So she'd dutifully kept her eyes on her notebook and jotted down the key takeaways from their meeting—not date, definitely not date—while refusing to steal glances at his surfer's body. Which reminded her.
5) Surfing is a dangerous sport—worrying
Roxanne had done the research. Statistically speaking, the percentage of surfers who suffered an accident at some point during their careers was not insignificant.
Which wasn't to say she was concerned about Brawly. She simply preferred to have all the facts. And the facts, she'd found, were not in her favor.
So she'd wonder about him, out there on the water. She'd struggle to concentrate at the gym. Her battling would suffer. Her win-loss record would plummet. And when she presented her challenge to the Elite Four one day, the League would ask, was she sure she could handle it?
But of course she could. Roxanne could handle much more than most. Her gym duties. The Trainers' School classes she taught. The reading she did to keep her knowledge up to date. The research she helped with at Devon in the hope that Champion Steven would recognize her as the up-and-coming talent she was.
6) I am far too busy for a boyfriend
And she didn't mind one bit. She'd become a leader to excel. Not to admire other leaders whose eyes were too blue.
With a hint of green in them, now that she looked. Like the Dewford seas—she hadn't just thought that. Brawly caught her gaze and flashed her a smile, and Roxanne turned back to her notebook, frowning in indignation.
Books before boys. That had been her philosophy since day one, and so far it had worked out just fine. Now her focus had shifted to the League. She'd studied the top career manuals in preparation. And she'd seen what they said.
7) Dating a colleague—an occupational hazard
She'd be the subject of gossip, whether she liked it or not. League management would view her differently. They'd presume her personal life took precedence over her professional one—even if it didn't. Even if she'd never allow that, not for one second.
Roxanne shook her head harder. Did she want people thinking she was there to date?
Worse yet. Suppose they had a fight. Or broke up. Purely theoretically speaking, that was.
It wouldn't be the first time it had happened. She darted a glance at the ill-fated couple, now seated apart. Everyone knew the story.
8) Might end badly (e.g. Wallace and Winona)
Wallace, she realized with alarm, was already packing his bag. Roxanne's eyes flew to the lectern. The professor had gone. Surely the meeting couldn't be over?
"Any other business?" asked Champion Steven.
That confirmed it—it was good as over. Gym Leaders and Elite Four members alike sat in unified silence. No one wanted to stay longer than necessary.
Which Roxanne had learned the hard way her first week at the League, when she'd posed a thoughtful follow-up question to a chorus of sighs. Honestly. She'd only been trying to show some initiative.
As they adjourned and the others began to leave, she could do little but berate herself. Suppose she'd missed something important. She wouldn't even know.
And to make matters worse—far worse—Steven was heading her way.
Roxanne assumed her most competent expression, but inside, she was a jumble of nerves. Not a good sign, that the Champion wanted to speak with her after she'd been otherwise occupied this past hour.
"I should compliment you on your diligence," he said as he approached. "You take such thorough notes."
Well. Perhaps she could bring in her research to work on next meeting, and no one would be the wiser.
"All part of the job," Roxanne replied smoothly. "I always do."
Only in the less vital parts, of course. She wasn't about to become a complete delinquent.
"I didn't, I'm afraid." Steven smiled. "I'll borrow this, then, if you don't mind."
Before she'd processed the implications of his request, Steven had taken her notebook from her desk. Roxanne's whole body tensed at once. She did mind. She did very much mind. But what could she say? He was the Champion.
"Not to worry." He seemed to notice her unease. "I'll have it returned to you by Skarmory tomorrow."
She watched helplessly as he walked away. What in the world was she going to do now?
What Roxanne was going to do was, she was going to own up to her mistake. She'd admit she hadn't taken notes, and apologize for her lapse in judgment. And ask if she could please, please have her notebook back.
But the consequences would be severe. Champion Steven would never see her the same way again. Word would get out around the League.
Roxanne knew how it worked. One minute you were perfectly comfortable in your position. The next minute they'd handed your job to some child prodigy.
They were almost inescapable, these days. It was frustrating enough she'd be the youngest in Hoenn history to start as a Gym Leader if not for Tate and Liza. (Roxanne maintained the League ought to have combined their ages for official record-keeping purposes. It only made mathematical sense.) And Norman's son, rumor had it, was due to begin his journey sooner rather than later.
She couldn't afford to take risks. Not now.
"Winona." Roxanne stopped the more senior leader and hoped she wouldn't ask questions. "May I borrow your notes?"
Winona handed them over with a wry smile. "Are you sure they're up to your standards?"
Roxanne did seem to have developed a certain reputation among her colleagues. And if she didn't act—immediately—it would never last.
"I'll take them." With a sincere nod of thanks, she hurried out into the hall.
This would be no easy task.
What Roxanne was going to do was, she was going to break into Steven's office. She'd remove the offending pages from her notebook and copy down Winona's notes in their place. Then destroy that list at the earliest opportunity. He wouldn't suspect a thing.
Fine. So it wasn't the most respectable plan. But it was hardly illegal, was it?
…Was it? Roxanne hoped not. She didn't have time to do the research.
She willed the pounding in her chest to subside, wondering what exactly the League did to those found making unauthorized entry into restricted areas. Banned them from the building, maybe.
But they couldn't, could they? She was a Gym Leader, with meetings to attend and business to attend to.
They could suspend her from League duties altogether. Commence formal disciplinary proceedings against her. Note the incident in her file, only for reports to surface once she challenged the Elite Four. Highly knowledgeable, of questionable character.
Steven's voice echoed through the door. She couldn't go in now, in any event.
Wait. Two voices. Brawly was there with him.
Well, that came as no surprise. Brawly would be. He'd probably been called in for slacking, and any number of other things he'd done. Perhaps he'd gone surfing one morning and failed to show at the gym. Or multiple mornings. Mentally, she added it to the list.
9) Possibly a slacker
"So I was thinking," Brawly began, "about that volunteer work in Slateport…"
Or perhaps she'd been too quick to judge.
"…I'm in, man. When did you say that was happening, again?"
"Two weeks from now?" said Steven. "I'll just consult Roxanne's notes."
Her breath caught in her throat. Oh, no. No.
Brawly chuckled. "What would we do without her, right?"
She'd never been in trouble like this. Never. Not even the time she'd gone a bit overboard on her supplementary reading and wound up with a library fine.
But this was worse than trouble. It was complete and utter mortification. Roxanne burst in without so much as a knock.
"E-excuse me," she managed, struggling to keep calm. "I need my notebook back. Straightaway."
Then she saw it—open, in Steven's hands. Her stomach knotted. Her pulse quickened. The only thing preventing her from complete self-implosion was that it wasn't within Brawly's view.
Not yet.
"Well." Steven's eyes widened as they ran over the pages. He cast her a disbelieving glance.
Roxanne braced herself, preparing to be humiliated. And also fired.
Steven turned to Brawly with a blank, professional face. "I'm afraid I can't decipher her shorthand. You'll have to ask Roxanne." He met her gaze momentarily as she stood in speechless silence. "Perhaps over lunch."
Brawly grinned back. "Sounds like a plan."
"Roxanne," said Steven, "might I have a word with you first?"
She nodded as Brawly left the room. There was no conceivable way this could end well.
What Roxanne was going to do was, she was going to save her reputation. She couldn't allow her career to stall when it had only just begun. She'd worked too hard, missed out on too much, studied for too many nights that had too often become mornings.
"Champion Steven," she addressed him in oft-practiced honor student tones. "I'd like to apologize for my conduct in meeting today. I take my duties as a Gym Leader seriously—with the utmost seriousness—and I can assure you it won't happen again." When he said nothing, she continued. "And I promise to dedicate myself toward my progress as a trainer and the betterment of the League."
"Call me Steven."
Was that all?
"I'm not… in trouble?" She could scarcely bring herself to ask.
"Roxanne." Steven leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth twisting upward. "Do you think no one else slacks off in these meetings?"
She didn't know what to say.
"I'll let you in on a little secret." He opened the leather-bound folder he'd propped up in front of him during the lecture earlier—surprisingly low-tech for the successor to all things Devon—and an issue of Modern Geologist fell out.
"No!" Roxanne suppressed a gasp. "I love Modern Geologist."
That was when she noticed the cabinets throughout his office, exhibiting fossils and other rare finds—much like those in her gym, but from far-flung lands she could only hope to visit.
"I thought you might, being a rock specialist and all." Steven appeared to think for a moment. "A group of us go searching for stones on the riverside north of Rustboro now and then. Would you be interested?"
Would she be interested? "I'd love to come along."
"Excellent. I'll send you the details next time."
"And thank you." Roxanne felt her cheeks burn. "For not mentioning my… um, notes."
"Right," said Steven. "On that matter."
She swallowed hard. "Yes?"
"I think you'll find work-life balance vital to a career in the League." He gave her a fleeting smile, and she briefly wondered if those rumors about Steven and the Sinnoh Champion were true. "Just my professional opinion."
What Roxanne was going to do was, she was going to make one hundred percent sure her mind never wandered in meeting again. Ever.
She left Steven's office, shoving her notebook to the bottom of her bag and burying it under the rest of her belongings—only to collide with Brawly waiting in the hallway before she'd so much as looked up.
"Whoa." He put a steadying hand on her waist. "What was that about?"
"Geology." It was all she could think to tell him. If only he knew.
"So how about that lunch? Champion's orders." Brawly let go, and with a feeling she no longer fought to ignore, Roxanne found herself wishing he hadn't.
Perhaps Champion Steven—no, Steven—was on to something. "I'd like that."