Someone Like Her [H.S.]

O N E

The cold air cuts my cheeks as I sprint through campus. I quicken my pace once the university building comes in view and I silently beg the minutes to pass by slower. If there is anything I dread about college, it is walking in a full auditorium when the lecture is already in full swing.

When I rushed through my morning routine this morning I debated on not going to class at all, but I pushed the thought away soon after. I wasn't going to start missing classes when the end was so close. Still, my stomach flutters as I realize over a hundred pairs of eyes will turn my way once I open the double doors of the lecture hall.

Hesitation lingers when I stand in front of the door. I try to pat my hair down in an attempt to make myself look a little more presentable, but I stop quickly. I didn't have time to try untangle the mess I call my hair this morning, and although sometimes my curls fell naturally down my face, that wasn't the case this morning.

I'll just have to swallow my fears for a few seconds and make my way into the room. My professor's voice resonates through the door. However, his voice sounds a lot deeper than I can remember. My brows push together.

With slightly trembling fingers I push the door open. I step into the room and soon after I feel the burn of staring eyes as I keep my head down. I'm hit with an electric tension as soon as I round the corner. Lifting my head I look for the cause of all the hushed voices in the normally quiet lecture hall. I hope I zipped my pants back up after using the restroom just then.

I let my eyes wander over the multiple students and I can feel my chest open up when I notice the majority of the eyes are already cast away, not on me. Instead, most eyes are directed straight ahead toward the professor's desk.

I discreetly try to sneak my way up the stairs when I turn my head toward the deeper voice ringing through the speakers. When my sight doesn't fall on the familiar man with salt and pepper hair, I falter. Stumbling on my feet I try to balance myself on the steps. I completely forgot about the guest speaker my professor told us about last week.

A smart suit, white teeth, and sharp eyes stare straight back at me. For a second his speech halts while we maintain eye contact. His facials features are slightly blurred from the distance, but I can clearly see and feel his gaze on me. A light switch turns on in my head as I realize why the room is sizzling with excitement. Every girl is highly focused on the brown-haired man with a startling grin. I can't really blame them, though. He is really hot, there is no denying that.

My mouth twitches up at the ridiculous situation. As my lips curl, the man in the front starts his speech again, yet he keeps his head down for a second like he needs a moment. If I wasn't so far away, I'd say his cheeks turned pink. I grin to myself.

Somehow I'm able to spot Oliver's striking blue eyes among the other students and I make my way toward him. When he sees me, he widens his eyes at me before he turns his head back to the front. My hand shoots up toward my mouth to muffle my chuckles as I nod my head.

"Good morning," I whisper.

"Oh it's a very good morning, indeed," Oliver replies, his eyes not straining from the guest speaker. His lips curl on the sides and again I have to refrain myself from laughing out loud. "How come you're late?"

"Slept through my alarm. Sophomore year is already kicking my ass."

"I know what you mean."

I turn in my seat and face the front of the room again. "Who's our guest speaker?" I whisper to Oliver as I keep my eyes on the tall man.

He's dressed in a black suit with a pink button-up underneath. His right-hand moves in all directions while his other holds the microphone. I watch how his lips move, thin and pink, and how they form words. He's telling something about how he started in the business and how many times he had to rethink his business plan before any banks would support him and his ideas. But honestly, nothing really sticks. It goes in one ear, out the other. The only thing I'm highly aware of is the buzz and my sticky hands every time his eyes linger on the side where I'm seated before he casts his eyes downward.

I realize he isn't directly looking at me, he's more than likely just making eye contact with his audience, but still.

"Mae, you can't be serious right now. How can you not know this guy?"
I shrug and Oliver sighs in that exasperated way of his, hunching shoulders and all.

"You're with a doubt gonna fail this class," my best friend mumbles under his breath.

"Hey!" I slap his chest, hurting my knuckles in the process. For good measures, I push him away while he laughs. The brown-haired beauty is back at staring at our side of the hall and my cheeks burn up.

Oliver calms down before he says, "Not only is he the creator of Rodin, he's also the sole reason I play for the same team as you. God, he's been my crush since I was like fourteen." He rests his head in his hands and sighs dreamily.

"Wait, so he owns Rodin? Like the tech company?" As Oliver nods, I'm left with my mouth hanging open. "Wow."

"Yep."

The rest of the lecture stays filled with sizzling excitement, girls -and Oliver- giggling and cooing every time Mr. Harry Styles makes a joke. When it's nearing the end of the two-hour lecture, Professor Miller wraps it up and reminds us of the essay we have to submit the next week, we leave the hall. The mob of students maneuvers to the exit.

With Oliver's sweatshirt bunched in the palm of my hand, we make it outside. He's scheming a plan aloud to me about 'accidentally' crashing against our handsome guest speaker. His blue eyes twinkle as he talks about how their first date would go and how kissing his lips would be like.

I can't help but cross my fingers and hope that some of it actually happens. It's been too long since Oliver had someone by his side and he really deserves someone that worships the ground he walks on. Although Mr. Harry Styles might be a little too old for my best friend, he looks like a decent guy.

"Do you think Miller has his phone number?" Oliver asks as I order us both a cup of hot chocolate.

"Maybe his email?" I don't know."

We settle on a small table pushed into the corner of the warm, cozy coffee shop.

"Do you think the old man would give it to me?"

I giggle at the hopeful look in his eyes. "With your charms, sure." I laugh. Oliver laughs along with me.

"Put those good charms to use now and you might actually get it," I say and nod my head toward the line in front of the cashier. Right at the end of the line stands the tall beauty from our lecture. He cups his hands in front of his mouth before puffing his cheeks and blowing. So, he's not only undeniably handsome but also cute.

Oliver's cheeks tint an adorable shade of pink. He shrinks in his wooden seat, suddenly not feeling so brave anymore. I smirk at his reaction and coo.

"Don't mock me!" My best friend hides his face behind his hands which causes me to laugh louder. A few people turn their heads our way as I lock my arms around my stomach, continuing my giggles.

"He's looking our way! Take your chance, Ollie!"

I glance toward Mr. Styles again and notice the faint smile on his lips. A warm feeling spreads through me. I politely nod in his direction and to my surprise, he nods right back at me. Suddenly the steam from the hot cup before me is a lot more interesting.

"You ruined your chance, babe. He's gone now." With a ring of the bell, the handsome brunet disappears in the crowd. For whatever reason, the lightness of the situation evaporates and the shop cools down with a few degrees.

Oliver groans. "I'll never find someone," he whines.

"Don't be dramatic, you'll always have me as your wing woman." I pat his arm and smile up at him.

"Thanks, Maia, you're the best."