Chapter Text
Do you find yourself struggling to make deadlines, let alone friends? Do you spend more
time talking to your textbooks and houseplants than actual human beings?
We’re going to go ahead and assume the answer to both of those is yes, and that’s why you’re
reading this. So put down that aloe vera and let us tell you a little about how this works.
THE WALLFLOWER PROJECT is an online pen pal program that uses a compatibility test to match you with another
student here at the university. You’ll pick a codename and we’ll put you in contact with who we think is your best match.
How much you share, and how long you remain anonymous, is entirely up to you.
Who knows? Your new best friend could be the person you least expect.
“Were you saving this seat for someone?”
Penelope slammed her laptop shut at the sound of Colin Bridgerton’s voice. She turned her head and there he was, standing next to her. He gave her a curious look, his polite smile never wavering, and she realized with a start that he was asking about the vacant seat beside her. Which still had her bag sitting on it. She scrambled to move it from the chair and make room, her face warm.
“All yours,” Penelope said lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Once Colin seemed distracted with unpacking his laptop, she opened her own and surreptitiously closed out of the Wallflower Project website.
The first time she had met Colin - though she hadn’t known his name then - had been at a campus tour for another university. At first, she’d only noticed him in that vague way anyone notices someone attractive, but as he’d made good-natured jokes that livened the otherwise dull tour, she’d found her eyes being drawn to him. His laughter was the infectious, bathe-you-in-warmth kind that made it impossible to be in a bad mood.
The tour had gone mostly well aside from a few comments her mother made that were in poor taste. She’d tried whispering them, but they came out louder than if she’d spoken normally, which to Penelope’s horror meant everyone heard them.
And then, their tour guide asked if there were any questions amongst the group.
“I do have one,” Penelope’s mother had said, and Penelope had slowly looked at her, already dreading what might come out of her mouth. “I’m worried my daughter will sit in her room all day when she isn’t going to classes. Do you have any advice on that?”
Penelope had looked to the heavens, praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. She’d heard snickering from the others in their group and, after taking a deep breath, had glanced at Colin only to find him coughing into his hand to disguise a laugh of his own. He’d glanced up and met her eyes with an apologetic smile, a single brow raised at her, and she had felt the heat rush from her neck up to the tips of her ears.
Whatever university she enrolled in, she had decided then that it would be far, far away from that one.
And then, because she was the universe’s favourite joke, on the first day of freshers week she’d walked into the very warm, very masculine chest of the one person she’d hoped to never see again as he exited the English Department.
“Well,” Colin had said, “that wasn’t very well done of me, was it?” He’d bent down to pick up her phone from where it had fallen, and brushed the dirt off before handing it back to her.
She’d grabbed it from him, stuttering out something that sounded like a combination of sorry and thank you but instead came out sounding like gibberish. Then, before he could recognize her, she’d fled into the building, her heart racing.
After that, it was not unusual for her to see him around the halls of the English Department, or in lectures, but with so many other students it was easy for her to go about her day unnoticed by him.
Until today.
As Professor Danbury began her lecture, Penelope chanced a glance at Colin. He hadn’t bothered with slicking his hair back that morning, but Penelope found she quite liked how it looked without all the extra product. It was softer, and every so often he would brush his fingers through his fringe to push it back off his face which only added to the lightly tousled look.
He seemed completely focused and at ease, the opposite of how Penelope felt. She was uncomfortably warm in her yellow cardigan, and whenever Colin shifted in his seat she resisted the urge to do the same. She settled for playing with the frayed edges of her sleeves as she tried to focus on the discussion happening around her.
She was being ridiculous. She hadn't spent months convincing her mother to let her attend university just so she could throw away the opportunity over a little embarrassment (and, okay, a little bit of a crush, too - she was only human, and the light stubble Colin was growing looked really, really good on him).
Penelope straightened in her seat, determined to ignore Colin's presence beside her. Her resolve lasted until about three quarters of the way into the lecture when she heard Colin curse under his breath. Penelope counted to three in her head before looking over.
Colin’s laptop screen was black, and he was rifling through his backpack with increasing frustration. He pulled a notebook out but continued looking through various pockets and compartments.
It was distracting, which was the reason Penelope gave herself for tapping Colin’s shoulder tentatively with her pen to get his attention.
"You can use mine," Penelope whispered when Colin turned and gave her a quizzical look. She held her pen out to him.
Colin’s blue eyes were even prettier up close, an observation Penelope considered for only a moment before realizing it meant that she was probably staring. She looked at the pen just to look anywhere else and watched as Colin's hand reached out to take it.
"Thanks," Colin said. "I'm Colin, by the way."
I know, Penelope thought. "Penelope," she said instead.
“Penelope,” Colin repeated, and Penelope’s stomach fluttered at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. “I’ll make sure you get your pen back.”
If Colin recognized her, he gave no indication, but Penelope hadn’t really thought he would. To people like him, she was as unremarkable as the ballpoint pen he had borrowed from her. At least she could take comfort in knowing that the embarrassment was hers alone to remember.
True to his word, when the lecture had ended Colin tried to return Penelope’s pen.
“You can keep it,” Penelope said, gripping the strap of her backpack. “I — ”
“Bridgerton!” Another student Penelope didn’t recognize joined them, slinging an arm over Colin’s shoulders. Penelope ducked her head and backed away, pretending to check something on her phone. “You’re joining us for lunch, right?” He didn’t bother looking in Penelope’s direction, but she wasn’t bothered by his lack of attention. It was better he didn’t notice her, so he couldn’t question what Colin was doing talking to her.
“Afraid not, Fife,” Colin replied, turning to his friend. “I’m meeting El.”
El. A woman, then. Penelope swallowed, then slipped away in the rush of students before Colin could notice she had left.
“Have you ever heard of the Wallflower Project?” Colin asked, stealing a chip from Eloise’s plate and popping it in his mouth. He grinned as she narrowed her eyes and pulled her plate closer to herself. The two of them met for lunch at least once a week when their class schedules allowed it; though Eloise would deny it, Colin knew she missed their siblings. Unlike Colin, it was the longest she had been away from them.
“Must you steal my food every time we have lunch together?” Eloise sighed. “Just order more if you’re hungry. And why are you asking about the Wallflower Project? You don’t exactly have trouble making friends.”
Colin shrugged. “A girl in my class was looking at it before Danbury’s lecture. So you’ve heard of it, then?”
“It’s a project started by a group of seniors in the human sciences department,” Eloise said. “It’s sort of an online pen pal program, though the primary objective is a social experiment. Theo is one of the creators behind it.” Eloise’s cheeks turned slightly pink at the mention of Theo Sharpe; she’d had a bit of an infatuation with him after hearing one of his talks on gender theory, but Colin was quite sure that she was infatuated by his words more than the man himself.
“Well, if Theo is one of the creators, it must be good,” Colin teased, smirking. He wiped the grease from the chips off on his pants and pulled out his phone, typing the wallflower project into the search. He scrolled through the website, reading about it as he went along.
“Shut it, you,” Eloise muttered. “And what about this girl in your class?”
Colin looked up from his phone, raising a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Is she pretty, or do you usually make it a habit to notice what your classmates are doing online?” Eloise teased, but Colin knew her well enough to recognize the concern in her eyes.
“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone again anytime soon, El, if that’s what you mean,” Colin said softly, turning the screen of his phone off and setting it down. “I want to understand myself better and relationships only… complicate things, in a way I don’t need right now.” Rather than looking reassured, Eloise’s frown deepened, so before she could say anything, Colin went on. “Though, I suppose she’s not not pretty.” He dodged the chip Eloise threw in his direction, grinning cheekily at her when she missed.
“I don’t know why I was worried about you. God, men are so simple,” Eloise sighed, but she had a tiny smile on her face that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her drink.
Colin snorted. “You know Theo is a man, right?”
“A man who considers himself a feminist is hardly the same as an ogre like you, ” Eloise sniffed. “So, are you going to try it, then?”
“What, feminism?”
“No, you idiot, the Wallflower Project.”
“Do you think I should? You said yourself, making friends isn’t really an issue for me,” Colin pointed out.
“Perhaps not,” Eloise admitted. “But most of the people you hang around with lately are hardly deep conversationalists. When was the last time you shared anything personal with someone other than our family?”
Colin averted his gaze, looking around the small restaurant. He knew exactly when the last time was that he had let someone in. He also knew that it had blown up spectacularly in his face.
“Don’t let what happened with Marina stop you from letting people get to know you,” Eloise said softly, as though she knew exactly where his thoughts had taken him. “All of you, not just the parts you think are more agreeable.”
At the mention of Marina Colin stood, pulling out his wallet and dropping some cash on the table. “That should cover lunch for today,” he said.
“Colin-”
“I hear you, El,” Colin said, rubbing his brows. “I do. But I’m not even sure I know myself anymore. Casual friendships are all I can manage right now, okay?” He walked around the table to lay a kiss on top of Eloise’s head before mussing up her hair, ignoring her cries of outrage as she tried to fix it. “You are a good sister, Eloise,” he told her, smiling. “You don’t have to worry about me so much. Same time next week?”
Penelope yawned as she walked up the stairs to her floor, a bag of takeout in hand. She had spent most of the day in the library and all she wanted to do was eat her dinner and collapse into bed.
Instead, her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket, and she scrambled to look at the caller ID. At the sight of her mother’s picture, she sighed and answered.
“Hey, mum.”
“Penelope! I tried calling you earlier but your phone was off. Don’t you check your voicemail?”
“I was in the library,” Penelope explained. “And I was going to call you back after dinner.”
“You’ve been avoiding my calls,” her mother accused. “I was starting to think I was going to have to show up just to make sure you were alive.”
Penelope rolled her eyes. “Not avoiding,” she assured her mother, “just busy.”
“Oh,” her mother said, and the change of tone set off alarm bells in Penelope’s head. “Busy with who? A new boyfriend, perhaps?”
“Busy with school, mother,” Penelope stressed, cradling her phone between her ear and her shoulder so she could dig out her keys.
“You spend so much time with your nose in books.”
“I’m a student, we all have our noses stuck in books,” Penelope said patiently.
“Yes, well, not all students have the same…” her mother paused, “barriers, as you.” She didn’t have to explain what barriers those were; Penelope had endured her mother’s criticism of her flaws for so long now that she no longer knew what life without it was like. Her skin wasn’t clear enough, her waist not thin enough, her face too round. Even now, when she looked in the mirror, it was her mother’s voice she heard in her head commenting on her looks, not her own.
“I should go,” Penelope said. “I was… actually on my way out to meet friends for dinner.” Sometimes lying was kinder than telling your concerned mother that your evening plans consisted of eating soggy lukewarm food in your pyjamas while you caught up on Britain’s Got Talent.
“Of course, dear, don’t let me keep you.” Her mother’s voice was gleeful now. “Don’t forget, if you indulge - you bulge.”
“You never let me,” Penelope muttered to herself, reaching to unlock her door. Then, so her mother could hear, she said, “I’ll talk to you soon. Good night, mother.” She ended the call before her mother could impart any more unwelcome advice and entered her room.
Once the door was closed behind her, Penelope leaned against it, giving herself a moment to just breathe. Then she pushed herself off the door and got comfortable before loading up her show and eating her uninspired dinner alone.
Some time after the outrage of her favourite act being voted off, Penelope found herself on the Project Wallflower website again. During the day, she had convinced herself that she was a strong and independent woman, confident in her isolation and content to focus on her studies. But now, in the quiet solitude of her room, she could admit that she wished the lie to her mother hadn’t needed to be a lie at all.
She clicked the sign-up button and filled out the registration form. The next step was the compatibility test. She had expected it to consist of yes or no questions, or questions rating things on a scale of one to ten, something easily evaluated against other students’ answers to determine a match. Instead, she found questions like, “if you could live in any other time period, which period would you choose?”
“Easy,” Penelope said, typing her answer: The Regency Era. She continued through the list, some questions serious (“What are you at university to study?”) while others were hilariously outrageous (“Who would win in a fight, Deadpool or Bea Arthur?”) .
By the end, Penelope had no idea how anyone was supposed to decipher all of these answers to match students. She bit her lip, her mouse hovering over the submit button for a few moments before she closed her eyes and clicked.
Thank you for your submission, Lady Whistledown.
You will receive confirmation of your match after your answers have been evaluated.
Welcome to the Wallflower Project.