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Thank God, I think as I roll over and shut off the loud, obnoxious alarm.
The week went by in a blur with every new class I sat in and every new face I met. My courses seem like they will be ok, and my roommate, Steven, was never actually around, so I usually had the place to myself, which was great. I had a couple of shifts at the yacht club that were easy overall, and my coworker, Greg, actually seems like a cool guy.
There was just one thing I couldn’t get out of my head.
Natalie.
Why did it feel like she was purposely avoiding me? Even last Monday at the end of class, she practically bulldozed people out of her way to get away from me. Or at least that’s what it felt like she was trying to get away from. I also wasn’t sure why I cared so much.
But you do know why.
The truth is, I used to have a massive crush on Natalie when we were in high school. A crush that I’m starting to realize I never really got over. And a crush that was honestly more than just a crush.
She was a sophomore when I was a senior, and even though she was younger than me, it didn’t change the fact that she was way out of my league, simply because she was Natalie Spencer. The girl was admired by all at our high school, whether she wanted to be or not. I knew she never liked the attention and pretty much always kept to herself. Still, her family’s money and her desirable looks made her noticeable to everyone, especially horny high school boys.
Once or twice, I saw her getting rides home from the captain of the football team or the captain of the basketball team. I know she never asked the baseball captain for a ride home, though, since that was me. Maybe she just never liked me that way, but I had always wondered what it would be like to give Natalie Spencer a ride home.
I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes wondering why Natalie would be avoiding me. Was it the night we kissed? Did I say something to make her uncomfortable?
Then it occurs to me; does she remember seeing methatnight? The night I try so hard not to think of. Is that why she has been avoiding me? But, no, there was no possible way she remembers seeing me. She could barely keep her eyes open when they put her in the back of the …
No!
I shake my head, making the image of Natalie fromthatnight disappear completely. My hands instinctively go up to my face as frustration takes over.
I start replaying our conversations at the coffee shop and in our film class and nothing comes to mind that I think would have made her upset with me.
Shit.
This girl seems to want nothing to do with me, which is probably why I can’t get her out of my head.
“This is not going to be easy,” I stress as I jump off the tiny twin mattress to get ready for class.
After taking a hot shower, I throw on a new grey pullover and a pair of jeans, then spray the slightest bit of my cologne in the air around me. I push my hair back, pick up my backpack, plug in my headphones, and yes, I’m one of the few people left in the world who still uses headphones, and leave my dorm room.
On the walk to class, I decide to make a last-minute trip to the campus coffee shop.
That should do the trick. Five minutes later, I walk out with not one but two coffees in my hands.
I’m a few minutes early to class, which is not like me at all, but I go in and take my assigned seat. I place both coffees on my desk, and my leg starts bouncing up and down in anticipation.
As students start filing in, I look around but don’t see Natalie among the sea of faces. Maybe she’s not coming to class today. Did she drop this course after finding out I was in it?
Would she really go to this extreme to avoid me?
But just as the professor walks into the room, Natalie quietly takes the seat beside me.
“Hey,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear. Her long blonde hair is pulled back, but a loose strand dangles by the side of her left eye, giving me the urge to gently push it behind her ear. I don’t, of course, and instead, resist while I wait in anguish for her to say something.
“Hi,” she politely responds, but she looks down at her bag and pulls out her assignment.
“You like caramel, right?” I ask. I can tell I’ve caught her off guard, and she looks at me in confusion. “I stopped by the coffee shop on my way to class, so I grabbed you an iced caramel latte. I’m pretty sure that’s what you used to drink.” I hand it to her, and she cautiously takes it.
“Wow,” she says. “You … you remembered that?” Her eyes are glued to the drink in her hand, but her mind looks like it’s elsewhere. She finally blinks and turns her attention back to me.
“Yeah, of course,” I respond with a smile, and thankfully, she smiles back.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. The tension between us instantly lifts.
