Post-It Pact

PROLOGUE

She was there again. She had her hair tied in a knot secured by a red uncapped pen that drew scribbles on the back of her neck as she studied in the library. I've noticed her before as she always picked the spot next to the window where the sun would shine directly at her seat, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, I think she enjoyed the heat. The way her hair turned into light orange in the light made her stand out - well, that and the fact that she had red scribbles on the back of her neck.

From time to time I would hear a loud buzzing from a phone on a table and I would hear the scape of a plastic chair against the hardwood floor, and each time I look up from my desk to see what disturbed my nap, it would be the girl with the red scribbles on her nape, two tables in front of me. She would get up, pull the red pen from her hair and place it on her desk, then take her phone and go down the stairs. Each time she pulled on the red pen, my eyes fixed on the way her hair effortlessly fell onto her shoulders and back; how the array of browns and orange highlights would greet the sunshine and blend together enchanted me every time was a mystery to me. Some time later, she would return, take her seat, tie her hair back with the pen again, and start writing again.

I never knew how long her routine would ensue because I had to go to class 2 hours after I've entered the library, but each time I passed her to go down the stairs, I would subtly steal glance at her table, sometimes she would catch me and would crack a small, awkward, close-lipped smile and I would panic and rush down the stairs as if I've been caught stealing.

Every day for the last semester, I've been securing the same spot in the library just to see her, admire her from afar. A little motivation to study, as my friends would say, a library crush. During exam seasons, when the library seats were all taken, it was harder to see her as the person in front of me would always assume I'm staring at them if I looked too hard for the girl with the red pen marks so I just avoided looking at all costs.

My days in the library felt a little too bleak during exam seasons without seeing her, knowing that she was probably struggling as I was too. However, during the last midterms, I devised a plan, which I was sure would cheer the both of us on. I already had her routine down to a tee, so I knew when she would get up from her seat and walk around the library or go to the bathroom. A minute or two after she vacated her seat, I would place a chocolate or candy with a little motivational sticky note on her desk and return to my seat. Two tables behind her, I would watch as she sat back down and looked at the little surprise I had left.

The first note I left was "Goodluck with your exams!", which (admittedly) was a bit cheesy and typical, but I didn't know what else to write. I had left it with a piece of mint candy just a minute before she came back to her seat.

On my way back to my desk, my heart was pounding against my chest so hard that I was afraid it was a sign of a cardiac arrest coming up. I turned to the windows and kept her in my peripheral vision as she looked for whoever left the note on her table. I pretended to look deep in thought, looking outside the window while my mind kept racing with questions along the lines of 'what if she saw me leave her table?'

In the corner of my eye, I saw her facing the note on the desk again with a grin on her face and placed it in between her notebooks. I let out a sigh, and slowly, my heart returned to its normal beat. Good job, I tell myself as I return to my seat.

The image of her smile burned into my mind for the rest of the day. Somehow, that made me feel a little lighter despite the heavy workload I had for the rest of the day.

Days passed, and I would still leave notes on her desk at random times during her study breaks, each time writing a different note. It almost felt like a routine for me now. Sometimes, I would linger on the shelves not far from her table to see her reaction to my knock knock jokes, and I would catch a glimpse of her warm smile. Her eyes would turn into crescents as her lips turned, her rosy cheeks dipped into dimples and sometimes, when I outdo myself with the jokes, she would stifle a laugh that sounded like the gates of heaven opening.

I lived for the moments she and I shared between the post-it notes and pieces of chocolates and candy. It was my little ruse contained within the dull and boring corners of the library. At the time, the giddiness I felt couldn't be replaced with any other feeling in the world.

Until one day, I found a yellow post-it note on my regular spot with a mint candy next to it, saying "Hey stranger, how 'bout we switch it up a little?"