Don't look at her. Do not look at her. DO NOT look at her. Oh crap, you looked at her. Jesus, she is hot. Ok. Do not look at her again. Look at your book. Read. Study. You have class today and you haven't done the reading yet. STOP. LOOKING. AT. HER.
"Hey, do you have a pen?"
She spoke. Holy crap her voice. "Uh, yeah, yeah." Find a pen. Find a pen. You have nine thousand three hundred and thirty-two pens in your stupid bag. FIND. A. PEN. "Here you go!"
"Thanks!"
She smiled. Oh Hell. I am in trouble. I am in so much trouble.
Look at your book. Read your book. You have now read the same sentence three times.
"Aren't you in my English class?"
She noticed me? "Uh... English Lit?"
"Yeah, don't you sit near the back?"
"I just like to be near the door."
"Yeah, but you have interesting things to say. You should sit closer to the front."
Breathe. Nod. Just smile and nod. "Well, sometimes I do. But not always."
"People have noticed."
Who? Why? Did you? Stop that. You're going to stare and make a fool of yourself. Again. "I like English Lit."
"What did you think of the reading for today?"
"Uh, just trying to finish it up."
"Oh, you're going to hate the ending."
I stare at the page. "I already hate the story."
"You should. It gets worse."
Our protagonist is already locked in a room and has no way out and can only stare at this atrocious yellow wallpaper. How can this get worse?
"We have class in twenty minutes, do you want me to just tell you?"
"I can finish before 20 minutes is up."
"Yeah, but then we would have fifteen minutes to flirt on the way to class."
Brain.exe malfunction. A pretty girl is smiling at me. "We... we... we..."
"She goes crazy. She begins to believe there are women trapped in the wallpaper and starts peeling it off. There is a woman behind the wallpaper crawling. But then she becomes the woman she kept imagining. Her husband finally gets back and she says, "I made it out, in spite of you." He faints cuz... who knows. The horror of it all I guess. And she keeps crawling on the floor having completely lost her mind like most women back then did. Now, do you like cream with your coffee?"
Speak. Speak. FOR FUCK'S SAKE OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND TALK! "Yeah, yeah, uh two creams and one sugar."
"I figured you for all black coffee. But shows what I know." She smiled again.
Smile back. NOT like a murderer. "And you?"
"I prefer just a little sugar. I like the way dark roast tastes."
Ummm, why is she grinning like that? "Okay. Cool."
She's rolling her eyes. Crap. We did that wrong. What were we supposed to say? She is walking over here. She closed our book. Umm.
"Here's your pen back, pack up your things, and meet me outside next to the coffee cart."
"Yes, yes, I will be there in two minutes."
She winks. She's walking away. Oh my goodness. Okay. Breathe. Pack your things. She's getting in the elevator, pack your things. Why do I have so many goddamn books?! Cripes!
I burst out of the elevator on the ground floor and jogged out the door. She was still there by the coffee cart. She had two cups in her hands. She held out one.
"Two creams and two sugars you said. Now, tell me what's your take on the reading for today."
We started walking. I talked about mental health and misogyny and how women were mistreated and dismissed and doctors who used machines to sexually stimulate them and before I knew it, we were in the lecture hall and I was sitting next to her, three rows from the front.
"Ah, nice to see you closer to the front Ms. Juniper," said Dr. Atkins as he walked in. "I do hope you have some good insight for us today."
"She definitely does," said Angel as she grinned at me.
