Love me. Choose me.

{3} Love me

I trudged out of the lecture hall, a sense of fatigue hanging over me as I made my way down the vast hallway filled with students absorbed in math discussions.

Unlike them, I clutched my bag, pretending not to eavesdrop on their chatter. I felt a twinge of envy; being an average student in math wasn’t exactly a badge of honor, and taking the course as an elective felt like a torment, especially surrounded by math geniuses while I felt like a lost shadow among them.

Trying to shake off these negative thoughts, I walked with a sluggish gait to find Shane, who was engrossed in conversation with his fellow math crew.

"Can I have a few minutes of your time?" I asked, leaning toward him.

He whispered something to a guy beside him before stepping away from the group. "What’s up?" he asked, draping an arm over my shoulder.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," I replied as we exited the hallway and entered the campus courtyard.

"I saw you with that guy. You two seem to be getting along," he muttered, avoiding eye contact, but I sensed the disappointment in his voice.

"Are you stalking me now?" I shot back, narrowing my eyes.

He jolted, adopting a frown. "Hey, calm down. I wasn’t stalking you; I was heading to your dorm when I saw you both."

"He wanted us to hang out," I said lazily.

He shrugged, giving me a skeptical look. "So how's that going?"

We walked past the garden beds and students lounging on the lawn. "He’s cool, but his weird behavior is a bit off-putting, though I kind of like it."

"I told you, but you wouldn't listen," Shane said, shaking his head.

"I never said he was a bad dude," I retorted defensively. "He’s just straightforward."

"Guys like him are—"

"Hey, babe." A voice cut through Shane's words. I turned to see Trent standing behind us, his hands tucked into his gray joggers, his hair tousled playfully by the wind.

"Trent, this is my best friend, Shane. Shane, meet—"

"Trent," Shane interrupted, rolling his eyes in annoyance before walking away, probably heading back to his group.

"What's up with your friend?" Trent scoffed.

"I don't know," I lied, forcing a smile. "Maybe he's upset because I made him leave his crew."

A slight smirk tugged at Trent's lips. "Freshmen can be naive," he laughed. "How long have they even had a crew?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "So, what's wrong with that?" I shot back, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

His laughter faded. "Sorry, I forgot you're one of them," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Meaning?" I glared at him and began to walk away.

He hurried to keep pace with me. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that."

I didn’t stop, continuing toward my dorm. He grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers, and I felt a rush of electricity course through me—warm, crisp, breathtaking.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Please don’t be mad; I like you."

What a clumsy way to confess. What kind of guy was this?

"You like me?" I mumbled, caught off guard by the sudden confession.

He nodded slightly before releasing my hand. "I was waiting for the right moment, but my instincts took over."