Happy Mistakes

Chapter 1: Meet

                                                                                                                       Alex POV
The campus library was my sanctuary. Among the quiet rustling of pages and the faint scent of old books, I felt at ease. Today was no different. I had nestled into my usual corner on the second floor, surrounded by a fortress of literature textbooks and notebooks. The sun filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the worn wooden tables.

I was deeply engrossed in my reading, trying to decode a particularly dense passage on Romantic poetry, when I felt a shadow fall over my table. I looked up, and my heart sank. A tall guy with tousled brown hair and bright green eyes was standing there, looking more like he belonged on a stage than in a library. And in his hand was a large cup of coffee.

"Hey, do you mind if I—" he started, but before he could finish, a blur of motion interrupted us.

A student running late for class bumped into the guy, sending his coffee flying. Time seemed to slow down as the cup tilted, and a cascade of dark liquid arched through the air, heading straight for me.

"Oh no!" I yelped, trying to leap out of my chair, but it was too late. The coffee splashed all over my open textbook and notes, soaking them instantly.

"God, I'm so sorry!" the guy exclaimed, grabbing a handful of napkins from his bag and attempting to mop up the mess. "I can't believe this happened. Are you okay?"

I was too stunned to respond immediately. My carefully organized notes were now a soggy, illegible mess. The guy continued to dab at the pages, his face a mixture of horror and guilt.

"It's fine," I managed to say, though it clearly wasn't. "It was an accident."

"No, it's not fine," he insisted, his green eyes meeting mine with earnestness. "I'll buy you a new textbook. And new notebooks. Anything. This is all my fault."

I shook my head, trying to calm my rising panic. "It's okay. Really."

He finally stopped his frantic cleaning efforts and took a deep breath. "At least let me help you rewrite your notes. I feel terrible about this."

I sighed, looking at the ruined pages. "That would actually be really helpful. Thanks."

He smiled, and I felt a little flutter in my chest. "I'm Ethan, by the way. Ethan Green."

"Alex Martinez," I replied, shaking his outstretched hand. His grip was warm and firm, a stark contrast to my cold, clammy one.

"I've got a break between classes now. Want to grab a table and get started?" Ethan suggested, his tone hopeful.

I nodded, gathering my drenched belongings. "Sure. Let's do that."

We relocated to a drier table, and Ethan immediately pulled out his laptop. As he typed, we chatted about our majors—Drama for him, Literature for me—and our favorite books. Despite the disastrous start, I found myself relaxing around him. He had a way of making me feel at ease, his enthusiasm for drama and storytelling infectious.

As the hours passed, I learned that Ethan was not only incredibly talented but also kind and genuinely interested in others. He listened intently as I talked about my favorite authors, nodding and asking thoughtful questions. By the time we finished recreating my notes, I realized I hadn't felt this comfortable around someone in a long time.

"Thanks for helping me," I said as we packed up. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," Ethan replied with a grin. "Actually, our drama club is having a meeting tonight. You should come. It might be a nice break from all this," he gestured to my pile of books.