After Life

7

He lifted me to my feet, his large, firm hand clutching my own. Once he was certain I was steady, he released me, his eyes never leaving my face.

I matched him stare for stare, ignorant to the social appropriateness of how long you were allowed to stare at someone who just knocked you to the floor. The first time I had met him, I had been nervous and cautious due to the fact I had been caught taking his photograph. I didn’t really pay attention to his features, my most dominant thought at the time being ‘abort mission!’. This time, thanks to the many hours I had spent over the last few days staring at his picture on my computer screen, my eyes drank him in.  He was just as attractive in person, which was something that surprised me to even be possible. If I was being honest, my photograph didn’t really do him justice. His green eyes regarded me silently, until the corner of his lip twitched into a smirk.  It was only then that I realized that I had probably surpassed the staring limit I had previously considered.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, my eyes dropping to adjust my bag on my shoulder awkwardly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted. “Since you’re the one who ended up on the ground, it should probably be me apologizing.”

I glanced up at him again, matching his grin. A silence passed between us, until my mind returned to me. What was he doing here on campus?  Surely, he didn’t go here? I had been stalking this boy at the library for the last few days, and all this time, he was closer than I thought?

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, my verbal filter unable to stop my thoughts from escaping passed my lips. I mentally face palmed myself, but kept my expression neutral.

He didn’t seem taken back by my blunt question, crossing his arms over his chest. I noticed a messenger bag slung across his torso, pulling the fabric of his button down shirt tightly across his chest. The black jeans he wore clung tightly to his legs, making them look impossibly long. My eyes lingered, again probably longer than socially acceptable, before I looked back up to his face.

“I go here,” he stated plainly. “English lit major.”

“Really?”

He laughed at my shock. “Yes, really. Why is that hard to believe?”

I shook my head quickly, trying to gain control over myself as I dropped my eyes. It was something I always did when nervous or feeling cornered. I found that if you looked away, you found a little bit of bravery that hadn’t been there when you were staring someone in the eye.

“Its not. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He tilted his head as he considered my statement. “Were you expecting to see me somewhere else, then?”

“No!” I answered quickly. Probably too quickly, since again the corner of his mouth turned upwards into a smirk.

He was teasing me, that much was clear. Where the first time we had met, he had been annoyed and challenging, where this time he was playful and engaging. I felt nervous in his presence, and I knew that probably had something to do with the fact that I had spent so much time thinking about him, looking for him, and picturing him in my mind.