Is this seat taken?

Not so bad

I woke up at 11:00 for my first class. I didn't have to be there until 12:30, but I hadn't slept well and I figured it was better to be a little early than late. Walking out into the kitchen, I brewed myself a cup of tea, and popped some bread in the toaster. While I ate, I went through my mental checklist of all the supplies I needed for the lecture, making doubly sure I had packed everything. When I was absolutely positive I had it all, I went back to my bedroom to get dressed.

It was decently warm outside, so I decided on a blue sleeveless blouse, a nice pair of jeans, and a cute pair of flats. I pulled my hair out of its ponytail, and it fell down around my shoulders. I had always liked my curly hair, it was just curly enough to be pretty, but not so much that it was suffocating.

I had finished with time to spare, so I sat on the couch looking for something to watch. After a few minutes of flipping through the channels, I settled on the BBC, which turned out to be playing Doctor Who. I had just enough time to watch the rest of the episode before heading out.

The walk to the lecture hall wasn't that bad, but when I arrived, hardly anyone was there. Then I checked my watch and realized why: class didn't start for another 20 minutes. Wonderful.

Sitting down towards the middle of a long bench, I began to unpack my things onto the desk in front of me. As I went to put my bag at my feet, a small piece of paper came fluttering out. It was Tom's number from the night before. I had totally forgotten to put it in my phone, so I created a new contact and put in the digits before grabbing my book.

About ten minutes later, I heard a familiar voice behind me. "Is this seat taken?" I knew who it was even before I turned around.

"Tom!" I whispered excitedly, "Uh, no, no one's sitting here."

He placed his books on the table and sat down with a grace that didn't match his gangly figure. "What are you reading?" he asked. But before I could open my mouth to answer, he had plucked the book from my grasp.

"Much Ado About Nothing," he stated. "This is a good one. Don't you just love Beatrice? And Don John?"

From there, the conversation flowed, just as it had the night before. We never seemed to run out of things to talk about. But before we knew it, the professor walked in, and the class began.