My HIST 302 Misconduct in Modern Europe professor was one of the most disturbing men I had met. He wasn't too old – maybe in his late 30s – and seemed pretty decent all around. It was when he opened his mouth in a lecture hall that I raised a brow. The minute he began to talk about conflict in 19th century Europe he became overly excited and way too descriptive of deathly battles. He was especially adept at finding horrendous portraits of death scenes. Several times people had to leave the room.
On this particular rainy Thursday he was going into depth about the Battle of Austerlitz with a long slideshow of Napoleon portraits. With one hand I was scribbling notes halfheartedly, the other twisting the unruly curl near my chin. I often found myself bored in this class, but as a requirement for my major, I'd learned to focus enough for a B.
"Alright class, now for your midterm assignment." All 300 of us straightened our spines. Words like "midterm" had that effect. "You will each be partnering with another student and writing a paper on which of the Napoleonic battles was the most influential."
Oh shit, I didn't know anyone in this class. I was socially awkward, so it wasn't like I was making friends on a daily basis. I sat in the corner nearest the door and hadn't interacted with one student since the beginning of the semester. I was not here to make friends.
Quickly around me, students paired up. The room filled with idle chatter as teams identified their battle. Why were group projects a thing? Anxiety grew within me as minutes passed. Surely I could do this project alone. Yep, I could do it alone and then I wouldn't have to feel bad about not being asked to partner up. There, anxiety gone.
"Do you have a partner yet?" The deep voice belonged to a guy wearing a Hoodie Allen sweatshirt. He stood in the row behind me and rubbed his neck in that way all guys do. Is that something they learn or do they take a special class?
After confirming he was indeed talking to me, I cleared my throat. "No...no partner yet..." The pathetic, feeble tone of my voice was nauseating.
"Wanna partner up?" I knew this guy only wanted to partner up because there wasn't another option available, but I felt a little special that he asked me. And I didn't have to do the project alone, a blessing in disguise.
After coordinating a plan with Quyen - a total Hoodie Allen enthusiast - to meet in the student center tomorrow, I packed away my notes and made my way to my next class. In the three minutes I'd known the guy, I already was flustered. One, he was cute in that Vietnamese rapper sense. Two, his smile took up most of his face and was completely infectious. And three, he'd asked for my phone number which had never happened to me before.
Yeah, there was no way I was going to stay on task tomorrow.
All night I worried about working in the student center with Quyen. What if he thought I was a complete moron - something I often thought during HIST 302. Or what if I did something embarrassing like spill water on myself? If this was a girl it would be no sweat, but anyone with a Y-chromosome was not in my comfort level! I finally fell asleep around midnight, overworked and using the soothing sounds of David Attenborough describing animals to convince me that I would not die of shame the next afternoon.
***
As it turned out, I gave myself an ulcer for nothing. When I met Quyen, all of the spark that had arisen the day before was gone. His neon green Ludacris shirt may have been to blame, but mostly it was that there was zero romantic chemistry. Within ten minutes of organizing our notes and creating an outline, I saw him as more of a brother who made me laugh with his Napoleon jokes. I was almost...relaxed with him. We laughed over reenactments of our professor's battle descriptions. At one point he touched my arm accidentally and I thought nothing of it. This was like hanging out with Luke! By the time I had to leave for my next class, all the worry I had struggled with earlier was nothing but a distant memory.
YOU ARE READING
The Completely Real Story of My Fake Boyfriend
Mizah"I need you to give me a hickey." Twelve years of friendship and this was by far the weirdest thing I had ever said to him. It would also start the beginning of a long lie to the girl who shared my rent. And it was all because of my fake boyfriend...
