I cursed before stuffing my phone away. The courtyard bustled around me; students hurried down the stone path and paid little attention to my stunned expression.
Eliot could have been any of them. The idea forced me out of my thoughts.
I sprinted towards my class, ignoring the ache in my legs, and swore that I would start going to the university gym. After years of running cross-country, I expected more from myself than a charley horse three feet from Russell Hall.
It took two minutes to cross the courtyard and reach the metal doors. Only four left. A girl, dressed like she came from a rave, stepped outside of the building. She frowned at me before rolling her eyes and brushing against my shoulder.
I slipped through the crack in the door, unwilling to let her distract me. I scanned the hallway. Bathroom? No. Classroom? No. Janitor's closet?
"Fuck me," I mumbled before crossing the hall. My footsteps echoed as I second-guessed my decision.
Is the bathroom a better option?
What if I get caught?
There's no way I have time to turn back now.
Do I have time at all?
As soon as my fingers grazed the door handle, someone coughed behind me. I swiveled on my heel, forcing my hand behind my head as if that was a natural position. The peachy boy from my theater class stood in front of me. The corners of his lips twitched upward.
I forced a smile, hoping to conceal my embarrassment. "Hi."
"Are you looking for English 1101? Because it's right there." He pointed at the room behind him. His faded gray t-shirt clung to his arm and thin black lines peeked out of the left sleeve.
I looked between him and the door, ignoring the potential tattoo. Did he assume I couldn't read the sign that said ENG 1101?
God, he thinks I'm a moron.
I straightened my posture, as if that will help, and met his eyes. "Yeah, I got that."
"Alright, ladies first." He chuckled before waving me into the classroom. I sighed, knowing that any chance I had to come was long gone. The buzzkill wandered off to the front of the room while I marched up the stairs to the back.
But the sudden vibrations in my pocket made shuffling through the last row more complicated than I bargained for. When I finally reached my seat, I yanked my phone out and silenced the damned thing.
I frowned at the screen; Eliot had messaged me to gloat. I glanced up at the professor, who was preoccupied setting up his computer, before tapping the notification.
"Satisfied, baby?"
It should be illegal to be so smug all the time.
I scoffed and shoved my phone down into the farthest depths of my book bag. He's going to wait an hour or two.
The hum of a circulating fan filled the classroom as I waited for the professor to start talking. As much as I enjoyed literature, there wasn't much to ease the suffering of an hour-long lecture followed by a pop quiz.
My attention settled on the front row where the boy from theater class made jokes under his breath with another girl. I scoffed and looked away, annoyed by my ability to get invested in a total stranger.
"Please, tell me you didn't actually go down to the fountain by yourself," a girl whispered in front of me. Her red hair glimmered underneath the faded fluorescent lights. She leaned over to her friend, trying to keep their conversation a secret, and failing.
YOU ARE READING
Love, Eliot
RomanceThere is something hot in anonymity, at least Cassie thinks so. Until she arrives for her first year at Hillview and her online lover could be anyone.