Six

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Josh finds me on the downstairs floor of the library, where talking and eating is allowed, after his eleven o'clock class.

He approaches my desk, smiling crookedly, his thumbs tucked under the straps of his backpack and takes a seat opposite me. "Hey, Nat."

I pull my headphones out and pause my music, returning his smile. "Hey. Thanks for coming to meet me."

He fishes into his bag and pulls out a set of Toyota car keys, his smile still there. "I think I should be thanking you for taking my car to your Dad's garage."

I shrug, taking the keys from his hands – careful not to let our fingers brush, for fear of an electric shock from the contact – and put them in a pocket in my bag. "Like I said to you last night, it's my job."

Josh tugs on one of his curls, which seems to be a habit of his. "Still. I appreciate it."

After he left last night, Anandi just raised an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything.

I think that was more annoying that just coming out and teasing me about him. Then again, it would be quite nice if talking to him was just normal in her eyes.

After all, none of the soccer girls bat an eyelid when we chat. They know he's just that nice to everyone, including them.

"Anyway," he continues, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward slightly. "How is the work going? You look like you're pretty busy."

I nod. "I'm just finishing off this math assignment that I have due tomorrow, but it's pretty much done. Just checking things over now."

Josh hums in the back of his throat. "Honestly, I wish that I was clever enough to be studying engineering like you are. It would be so fascinating."

I smile a little, because usually, if people comment on my degree, it's because they're surprised that I'm a girl who's studying civil engineering.

That just doesn't seem to be Josh's attitude, though. He just seems more impressed that anyone could study it, not that I, as a girl, am.

Given the fact that he came straight to me about his car, no questions asked, shows that he's not particularly shocked or fussed at the thought that I might be doing something that others say only men should do.

He's a history major – which I have a lot of respect for, because I could definitely never do the sheer amount of reading that I know they have to get through – which also seems to surprise people quite often, as though he should be studying physio therapy or something, given that he's a jock.

"I don't think it's about being clever enough," I disagree, my brows creasing together. "It's just different."

He smiles then. "Always the level-headed one."

He's not wrong. On the field – which, in fairness, is where he sees me the most – I am very calm and collected. Sure, I get passionate, but I don't get angry or aggressive when a call doesn't go my way. I just shrug and get on with it.

Off the field, though, it's a different matter.

"Ah, I think it depends who you ask," I laugh. "I don't think Anandi would tell you that I'm level-headed at all."

He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't drop either.

So, I change the subject. "Anyway, how was your class?"

Josh's face brightens in a way that I haven't really seen before. "It was actually really interesting. That class is about colonialism in Kenya and it's really fascinating. I'm so glad they're actually teaching some African history, you know?"

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