The Crush List Killer

coffee

"It's another sunny day in Berkeley." Read the newspaper this morning as I leafed through the yet again uneventful goings of this dreary town. 

My coffee had gone cold amongst all my shifting back and forth through the pages of boredom. Each headline reading more about the great weather in the area than anything of substance. As it had for the past however long I had made a point to leave my dorm to grab the weekly post from the sidewalk outside. At least it's not talking about our school's laughable football winning streak. The whole town threw a party when they won a game. For the first time in fifteen years of losing hilariously. 

Classes started some half an hour ago amongst my darting back and forth and tripping over my cat. My outfit had to be perfect. No wrinkles. No bagginess. Nothing other than the perfect future wife of some billionaire. I will have my own life as well but, its not to bad to want an off day to buy cars you will never drive.
 
I had pulled the newspaper into my arms a little bit before leaving. If I had known that it would kill my whole mood with the last page, I would have refrained from picking it up at all. 

So there I sat. Cold coffee. Slightly wrinkled blouse and news of a certain someone coming back into town. Time went very fast after that, causing my lateness. But all the while I sat in the chair at the kitchen table. His names plastered in the inky black headline. My stomach running a nervous turn. Lucky or unlucky I checked my watch and nearly cussed out loud. 

I made for the door with heist and slung my gray backpack over one shoulder. Sparing a glance at the list of names hanging on my bedroom door. Hand on the nob that I twist with slightly clammy fingers. I recalled first posting it. A simple list full of designs and a series of ten names written out in code. My roommate asked me some months ago what it was. To answer I smiled and pulled my arms over my chest, suppressing a giggle.

When I finally spoke it was in a whisper, 'My crush list'. 

                                                                                                *

Forgetting my jacket has to be one of the top three things I hate in this world. If someone asked I might be inclined to tell you about the other two. But I doubt people would like the answer.

As College Campuses go, this one is rather large. Spreading its massive print across an entire city with scattered buildings all the way up into the coast line. With one building in particular perched upon the beach. My destination was less charming and I resented the subtle nip in the air and the bumps it pulled up. The hairs on my arms stood on end as I rounded corners and took shortcuts in order to only be a couple minutes late to my 2:30 lecture.

Of course life has a way of shoving the unexpected right into my face. Sometimes it comes as the form of a free croissant at my favorite pastry shop. Others, a lego left on the ground. This time, it smacked me in the face as I was running full speed towards my academic building. My eyes were glued to my phone at the time, watching the seconds of my tardiness drift by like a death sentence. Dreading the nonsense of excuses that I was going to use to justify my lateness. Hating that fact that I chose to wear heels for some reason instead of my new high tops.

It was like being hit by a truck. One moment you are standing, flustered and in a hurry. The next you are flat on your back with some six foot five, strangers face in your now super wrinkled blouse. The impact knocked the air out of me. Literally. Leaving me gasping for some semblance of breath. The pressure on my chest did not help much either. As the past out man lay unmoving.

For a moment, one horrible bone chilling moment, I thought there was no breath in his lungs. That moment swept by just as fast as he groaned into my chest and planted his hands on either side of me to rise. One would think I would demand him to get off and rush to class. One would also think that this would be some moment from a rom com where the two lovers meet by fate and share that first glance. This was nothing like that. Because these two people already knew each other.

Eyes like the bottomless sea and skin like stars, glistening with the sweat and strain of rising up on his hand and knees to peer down at me. Face much to close for my liking. Hair curled about in strange dark angles and a crooked smile. My stomach rumbled.

"Hello, Clara." He purred my name, emphasizing the first 'a' with his thick unplaceable accent.

All together he was unmistakable for anyone else. From anyone at school. From anyone else on the list. My #1.

"Nicholas," I spoke his name as if it were a curse word that summoned demons. I nearly laughed at the way he recoiled. But not far enough to get off.

"Well, I see you have not lost any of your spark in the past two years, Clara." He dropped his voice deeper and hummed my name. Spiders crawled up my spine and I shoved him off without giving him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction. He chuckled but obliged, sitting back on his heels to watch me rise.

This had to be karma, horrible karma laced with four shots of tequila. First I woke up this morning feeling like shit. Blood soaking through my favorite Victoria Secret night set. Cramps cowlings their way up and down my abdomen. Cat trips me on the way to the bathroom. Again on the way to the fridge. Having to raid my roomattes supply of period products because I am a fucking dumass and forgot to get my own when I finished my last week of hell. Walking down in my newly washed but not quite blood stained free bathrobe and wet hair. To pick up the frostbitten uneventful piece of shit paper that I pick up every week because it is the only semblance of normality I have left to keep me from ripping a hole in the universe. Getting dressed and looking like a professional piece of anger management and then glancing at the fucking newspaper and seeing that name. THAT Name. That pulls my panties into a twist. Sucks the otherwise dull optomistic cheer from my soul and leaves it sitting on the floor like some stupid fourteen year old groupy.

He smiled. That sickening hot and sexy smile that once had me on my knees. As if he knew every thought I hid behind my closed lips.