You Can Run To Me

Thirty-Eight

Following the library incident, she found herself even more aware of his presence, though it made about as much sense as the word dephosphorylation would have made to her at the start of the year (and admittedly she still had to look it up in the dictionary most times it came up in Biochemistry). It was almost like before, but with a different kind of intensity. This time, too, she felt a little more sure that it wasn't just a trick of the mind, because a couple of rumors had been going around lately about Ephren trying to chat up a popular. She had had to check with the others that she counted as a popular though.

"Um... that's a really weird question," commented Bea in her customary mocking tone.

"How is it? It's not like I exactly spend loads of time with the popular boys." Natalie couldn't help the nervous indignation creeping into her voice.

Someone laughed.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Nat, there are plenty of people who wish they could be sat where you're sat right now."

Natalie replied to Beatrice with a short incredulous laugh, "Since when?"

"Come on, now, Bea. You really shouldn't exaggerate like that. It's really just because of Penryn. If she wasn't going out with Stan..." Rachel paused, frowning as she glanced across to Pen's empty seat, "then we'd just be a messed up sort of clique."

Bea shrugged, not really bothered enough to argue with her, and Natalie found herself not really understanding any better than she had earlier. One thing seemed fairly clear though – she just about qualified as a popular, whatever that meant. Meanwhile she studiously didn't stare at Penryn, who was sat beside her boyfriend, but about as far away from him as you can imagine. He had one arm slung over the back of her chair comfortably, but she was sat ramrod straight, meaning that they didn't even slightly touch. Why was Penryn still being so cold over something she had done? Normally, Nat would have expected her to be all up close to Stan, trying to distract him into forgiving her, yet evidently she was doing pretty much the opposite.

Opening the door to the library, she walked straight to the desk she'd claimed earlier. She had been really reluctant to leave her stuff there, but she decided that since it would take almost as long to pack and unpack all her study stuff as it actually would going to the restroom, she might as well take the risk. She had taken her bag, of course – it had her proper notes in, on her laptop – because it was way more valuable than a couple of common-or-garden pencils and some scrawled notes.

She had already gotten out her laptop when she noticed something odd. She couldn't be completely certain, but it was as if someone had had a look through her notes, and had been almost successful putting them back where she'd left them. It was quite unnerving, and she soon found herself flicking through the papers, paranoid that someone had stolen something. She wouldn't even be able to report it to anyone because, after all, she'd left them out on the desk; they were forfeit.

She stopped dead when she found a folded note that most certainly wasn't hers tucked between two pages, half-leaping out of her chair. She heard a poorly-muffled snigger nearby and with no little difficulty kept herself from looking round. Looking around would definitely only make it worse. After all, there was no reason they couldn't be laughing at a crazy cat video or at a particularly funny text from a friend. Trying to catch her breath and calm down, she gripped the edge of the table to stop her hands from going behind her back. Only after her hands started aching did she let go. She reached cautiously for the note, gingerly tugging it out from the melee of paper.

Natalie

That was all it said on the front, in a rough script that made the l and the i look almost like a u. Taking another slightly shaky breath, she picked it up, and opened it out, smoothing it out onto the table to read it.