Potentially You and Me (Two Truths and a Lie)

CHAPTER FIVE: SIDEWALK CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER FIVE: SIDEWALK CONVERSATIONS

It's not just Monday. It's another Monday. There's a difference. On one hand, I should be happy about the difference because it means time is passing. On the other hand, I still would have preferred to stay in my bed all day than go to class.

     "Is anyone sitting here?" A notebook gets tossed down on the table beside me before my eyes crawl their way up a grey sweatshirt covered Trent. "I don't want to be that guy that steals someone's seat a few weeks into the semester." His mouth tilts up to one side, but all I can bring myself to do is shake my head.

     "No." I clear my throat. "You're good."

     His lips remain in that tilted position as his unzips his sweatshirt with one hand and yanks the swivel seat out with the other. Luckily, there are more seats than people. Not only because people have stopped showing up regularly, but also this is the onlyhundred-person lecture hall in the building.

     Trent opted for the seat one over from mine. His pen dangles from his mouth as he pushes himself slightly out from underneath the table. He's got the perfect laidback attitude for another Monday while I can never seem to sit without my legs crossed and completely tucked beneath me.

     His eyes flicker up to meet mine, but mine flicker back down to my phone in response. It's a terrible habit along with the boom, splat that makes me forget whatever response I was going to type to Stephanie's text message.

****

Every class is ninety minutes. Lab classes are longer. But for sixty minutes of philosophy today I'm able to pay attention and takes notes like I have been the last few weeks. I'm able to pretend like it's another Monday.

     But it's no longer another Monday. It stopped being another Monday the second Trent decided to sit next to me and occasionally twirl his pen between his fingertips. Sometimes he'll even pass the pen back and forth between his hand and his mouth. Or even stretch his arms and his legs out.

     That's all copacetic.

     The problem is he's finally sitting still. For the most part. He's crouched over his notebook and his legs are both tucked neatly under the table. While my hand is still trying to take down all the words coming out of Professor Collin's mouth, his pen is back to dangling from his lips.

    Platois hard to understand, let alone pay attention to. These past couple of weeksI've been good at trying. The problem is Trent is now also hard to understand, let alone pay attention to.

     I want to pay attention to Plato not Trent, but it's hard when Trent turns his head in my direction, and I can feel his eyes trail over the top of my head to the tip of my pen before he looks away.

     He glances then looks away.

     The pattern repeats enough times for me to catch on.

     There are only a couple minutes left in the lecture when he turns his head again, and I decide to finally turn mine.

     There he goes tugging the pen out of his mouth. There he goes tipping up the left side of his mouth again, but a chalk squeak has me flinching and looking away. My hand moves even faster against the page, and my letters are sprawling outside the thin blue paper lines because now Trent's shoulders are shaking and even as he pushes his pen into his lips, they are still cracked open to reveal his teeth.

     Professor Collins drops his tiny chalk piece and gives me just enough time to glance at Trent again. This time in full, without reciprocation, and it doesn't take long for me to find that he also has his phone propped up behind his notebook. The phone I neglected to see from just my periphery. The phone that could only mean he was never laughing at me, which should relieve me, and for the most part it does. But I can't remember the last time I took a full inhale since he sat down, and it doesn't seem like I will be any time soon. Not enough oxygen, only twenty-one percent, and boom, splat, I'm doomed.

****

"Finally," Trent breathes as he pushes his chair back. I silently agree with him as I flip my notebook closed and push my own chair back. It doesn't take long before I'm standing up and slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "Hey," Trent says before I can walk away. He slides his pen behind his ear as he stands. "How do you do it?" He slings his own backpack over his shoulder.

     "Do what?" I lean into the table so other people can step around me.

     Trent nods to the stage Professor Collins is still standing on as he maneuvers around the chairs. "Pay attention."

     I don't know whether to smile or be confused and the crease between my eyebrows and the upward pull of my lip does a little bit of both as I shrug. "I don't know." I finally start trudging my way up the steps and Trent falls into step beside me.

     "Are you a philosophy major?"

     "No." I huff out a laugh just as he catches the door from the person in front of us.

     "Me either."

     I wasn't necessarily expecting him to hold the door open for me, but since he does, I end up mumbling a "thank you" as I step out.

     "So, what is your major?" He falls into step beside me again and shrugs his bag higher on his shoulder.

     "Biology. How about you?"

     "Physical education."

     "Really?"

     He holds the door open for me again and we step out onto the cement pathways, but people are stepping around me again as I stop in my tracks.

     "Yeah." Trent's furrowed eyebrows mimic mine, and I quickly shake the expression away.

     "Sorry, I didn't mean it like—as a bad thing. I've just, I've never met anyone with the major."

     "It's okay." He laughs. "I know it's definitely not everyone's first choice."

     We continue to stand there. Both of our sneakers glued to the cement while other pairs of shoes scrape and scuff by us. I glance back up and find myself squinting to catch his eyes. He leans his head over and down a little to block the sun. Too bad the smile he flashes me with is almost just as blinding.

     "So, I guess I'll see you around."

     I drop the hand I was using as a visor. "Yeah, I'll see you."

     There he goes smiling again. There I go smiling back. There he goes walking backwards. There I go watching him go. There's the early afternoon sun shining down on us, warming my skin, when we both finally turn around. There goes the smile that I have to consciously wipe off my face when I walk past other people but bounces back to life just like the light off the glass.