When Stars Align

4: Awkward Encounters 101

EMERY
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The early sunshine streamed through the lecture hall's small windows, creating geometric patterns on the aged wooden desks. The room was cold, and the breeze from the open window sent shivers down my bare arms. The continuous hum of the HVAC system did nothing to drown out the murmur of students seeking their seats. I took a deep breath and went inside, my sneakers making weak thuds against the floor.

I surveyed the room, looking for an unoccupied desk. The normal talk and rustle of papers filled the air, interrupted by the odd clink of a coffee cup. My gaze flitted across the sea of faces, eventually resting on a small group of recognized ones. Jaxon's sandy blonde hair caught the sun as he sat back easily in his chair, surrounded by his teammates. My heart skipped, a startling sensation that I instantly sought to suppress.

I hesitated, my fingertips skimming the edge of my notebook, attempting to ignore how his presence drew my attention. It had been months since our previous conversation, and our encounters were now restricted to uncomfortable exchanges. I didn't want to rekindle past emotions, especially in such a public setting.

I recognized Matt from earlier. He was reclining on the desk next to Jaxon's, his shoulders relaxed yet on guard. He looked up and gave me a tiny nod of recognition with his dark green eyes. The recollection of him assisting me with my baggage flashed through my thoughts.

I made my way to an empty seat near the front, carefully selecting one that was far enough away from Jaxon to prevent any embarrassment. The professor's desk, piled high with papers and textbooks, stood at the front, while a giant projection screen flickered with the course agenda.

As I took my seat, I attempted to focus on the notebook in front of me, its cover slightly worn from wear. I could feel my fingers fumbling with the notebook's edge, ripping at the tattered corner. My gaze sometimes shifted to Jaxon, who appeared to be entirely involved in his talk with his friends.

The professor cleared his throat and shuffled his papers. He was a middle-aged man with a thick beard and sweater vest. My heart thudded louder than anything he was saying. I glanced at the clock on the wall, the seconds passing slowly. The audience became quieter as the professor began his lecture, but my eyes remained fixed on Jaxon.

An unexpected movement grabbed my attention. He shifted in his seat, looking up as if he sensed my attention. Our eyes met, and a surge of heat rushed to my cheeks. I shifted my eyes to the paper before me, where a half-drawn sketch of a flower became painfully clear. What exactly was I doing? I was meant to be listening to the lesson, not analyzing every detail of a glance.

The professor's remarks drifted into the background as I pushed myself to concentrate. Public health. Strategies for community outreach. I could do it. My pen flowed with newfound intensity, writing words and bullet points—anything to prevent my attention from straying.

Then came a pause. I exhaled when I realized I had been holding my breath. The professor signaled for a ten-minute break, and the room filled with the sound of shifting papers and whispered talks. I needed a Kleenex from my jacket, which I'd placed on the rack at the door. Standing up seemed like I was wading through thick mud, even though the task was straightforward.

I kept my gaze fixed on the ground, counting the specks of color in the linoleum pattern as if they could somehow anchor me. But I was halfway to my jacket when I felt a firm weight against my shoulder. I slipped and hit a desk.

"Sorry!" My heart pounded in my chest and I spoke too high.

Jaxon stood in front of me, appearing unsure of whether to extend his hand as it hung there. "No, it's my fault," he responded, raising his eyebrows. The muscles in his arm contracted as he caressed his neck. "I wasn't watching where I was going."