The king of everything

Chapter six- Small beginnings

The next few days drifted by with a strange new excitement hovering just beneath the surface of my routine. I found myself looking forward to every economics lecture, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hope or maybe even sit next to her again. It was irrational, I knew. We'd exchanged only a few words, but something about her had planted itself in my thoughts, and I couldn't shake it.

I arrived earlier than usual for the next lecture, claiming the same seat in the middle row. The classroom began to fill, but there was no sign of her yet. I pretended to scroll through my phone, though my mind was elsewhere, wondering if maybe she wouldn't show up at all.

Just as I was about to give up hope, the door opened, and there she was.

Hope. She walked in with the same effortless grace, her curls bouncing as she made her way to the seat beside me. A faint smile crossed her lips when she saw me, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room shifted.

"Hey," she said, sliding into the seat. "You beat me here today."

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just trying to get a head start."

She chuckled softly. "I get that."

The lecture began, but my attention, as usual, was only half on the professor's words. Hope occasionally glanced over at my notes, leaning closer when the professor made a particularly confusing point. Each time she did, the light floral scent of her perfume wrapped around me like a gentle embrace.

It wasn't until halfway through the class that I realized I'd been holding my breath every time she leaned in.

After the lecture ended, students shuffled out in their usual hurried fashion, but Hope lingered. She glanced down at her notebook, then at me, biting her lower lip as if she was considering something.

"Hey," she said, her voice softer than before. "Do you—do you have time to grab a coffee or something?"

My heart skipped. I wasn't expecting that. I nodded too quickly. "Yeah, definitely."

"Great." She smiled, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "There's a little café on the edge of campus that I love. It's quiet, and they make the best iced lattes."

"Iced lattes sound good to me."

We walked side by side through the campus, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the buildings. The conversation was light at first, mostly about classes and the usual stresses of university life. But there was an easy rhythm to it, like we'd been talking for much longer than a few minutes.

The café was tucked away behind a line of trees, small and cozy with wooden tables and soft, inviting chairs. We grabbed a table by the window, where the sunlight spilled in, painting the room in golden hues.

Hope sat across from me, sipping her iced latte with a thoughtful look on her face. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The hum of conversation around us filled the air, but between us, there was a quietness, a sense of something unspoken.

"So," I said, breaking the silence, "what made you decide to study economics?"

She tilted her head, her curls catching the light. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I guess it felt like a good balance of practicality and something I could enjoy. I've always been interested in how things work—systems, markets, people. But sometimes I wonder if I'm really cut out for it, you know?"

"I get that," I said, nodding. "I think about that all the time. It's like, one minute I'm confident, and the next, I'm questioning everything."

She smiled softly. "Exactly. It's comforting to know I'm not the only one."

We fell into a deeper conversation after that—about the pressure of expectations, about life beyond university, about the things that kept us up at night. Hope had a way of speaking that made everything seem lighter, like she could take the weight of the world and turn it into something manageable.

As the afternoon slipped into early evening, I realized just how easy it was to talk to her. With every word, every laugh, it felt like I was getting to know her not just on the surface, but in some unspoken, deeper way.

At one point, she looked out the window, her eyes following the slow drift of people walking by. "It's funny," she said, her voice quiet again, "how quickly things can change. One moment you're living one kind of life, and the next, everything feels different."

I nodded, sensing that there was more behind her words than she was letting on.

"Yeah," I said, "it's strange how life can just shift like that. You never really see it coming."

She turned back to me, her eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, everything around us seemed to fade away. It was just us, sitting there, sharing something that neither of us could fully explain.

Hope smiled, but this time it wasn't the quick, playful smile I'd seen before. It was softer, more personal. And in that smile, I felt like I'd just crossed some invisible line with her, like we were no longer just two strangers who'd happened to meet in a lecture hall.

Eventually, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the café. We both realized how late it was and reluctantly stood up to leave.

"Thanks for today," she said, her voice light again. "It was nice to talk about something other than school for a change."

"Yeah, it was." I smiled, feeling the warmth of the moment linger. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

"I'd like that," she said, giving me one last smile before turning to leave.

As I watched her walk away, I couldn't help but feel that something had shifted again. Meeting Hope had already changed the way I saw things, but after today, I knew it wasn't just about the moments we shared. It was about the way she made everything seem possible—like the future wasn't just a blur of uncertainty, but something bright, something worth looking forward to.

And as I walked back to my dorm, the sun setting behind me, I realized I couldn't wait to see her again.