Silk || hs

Pens and Professors

Ever since Monday night, I can't seem to stop thinking about that damn napkin with the damn writing on it. It's my first day of college classes and I spend the entirety of it thinking about a boy. Not to sound like I'm from the eighties or anything, but how bogus is that? This year is supposed to be about me and finding myself and making memories with my friends, not about a boy. My cousin went into college dating someone and I saw how that went and I don't want the legacy of my freshman year to be determined by some guy I barely know. I refuse for that to happen. That is why I am not going to the bar on Friday to meet Harry. He surely thinks that I will with that cocky attitude of his, but he will be proven wrong and then he will look like the idiot this time.

I've told myself this probably twenty-seven times in the past two days, but for some reason, it just doesn't seem like a good enough reason not to go. Deep down, I know that this doubt in my decision is due to the fact that Harry is one of the most beautiful humans I have ever seen, let alone talked to. I guess part of me is scared that someone like him will never show interest in me again, so I'm trying to hold onto it as long as possible. Stupid, I know, but nonetheless true.

As I head to my last class of the day, I can't help but curse my decision to wear jeans. It's just too damn hot, and now I'm going to walk into class all sweaty. Just lovely. I make it to the history building a few minutes early, so I go to the bathroom to try and somehow decrease my sweat levels, though I know it's probably useless. With a sigh of defeat, I give up and make my way to my history class. I've always kind of loved history, so hopefully, this will be an easy A for me. Choosing a seat in the back of the class, I take out a notebook and begin doodling to avoid having to talk to the people sitting next me. It works for a few minutes before the guy sitting next to me asks to borrow a pen. Really? On the first day of class?

"Thanks," he says. I try to hide my judgement of him as I hand him the pen, but he seems to notice anyway, "I know, I'm the worst." The boy laughs at his own expense and scribbles on his notebook to test out the pen.

"Hm," I nod, looking away from him and towards the podium, where the professor is standing talking to some students. I should introduce myself after class, but I know I won't.

"Do you think this class will be hard?" the boy asks me, leaning on the desk towards me. What is it with boys constantly leaning towards me lately? I would say I don't mind, but right now I do. I'm afraid my sweat might be pungent enough for him to smell.

"I dunno," I shrug. "This guy's reviews were good, but they all said his tests were really hard, so that may prove to be problematic for some. Honestly, it depends on the TA."

"Oh... damn. I needed an easy class, but this was the only class open," the boy tells me, his eyes darting around the classroom. I wasn't nervous, but this guy clearly is, and it's making me nervous.

"I'm sure it'll be fine, you just might have to study a bit," I reassure him. Why am I giving this kid encouragement? I don't know, I guess I mostly just want him to shut up and this method might work. When he doesn't respond, I go back to my doodling for a few moments. Oh, I should have savored those moments because everything goes to shit after that.

"Fuck yes," the kid beside me exclaims to himself, his voice excited but hushed.

"What?"

"I think one of the TAs is the president of my fraternity. This class is going to be a breeze," he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. What a tool.

I look to the front of the class to find the person he is talking about, and at first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. This can't be possible. It's too cliche to be real. Of course, the TA for this class just had to be none other than Harry Styles. If my life were an episode of The Office, this would be one of those moments that I would look directly at the camera like Jim does when Dwight does something stupid. My only hope is that this is a good-sized class, so maybe he won't notice me all the way in the back. But naturally, because stories like these never work out in the way we plan them to, this hope is obliterated when Harry scans the classroom before passing out the syllabus. Almost like the world is against me, Harry's eyes fall almost immediately on me and I find myself ducking my head down despite the damage having already been done.