Love Again ✔

2. One Year Later

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"Sup, bro." Andrew greets me once I sit beside him and I take out my notebook. "I'm failing the shit out of this course, I'm telling you."

I chuckle, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry, we still have time to get our grades up before coach kicks our asses off the team."

He snickers. "Like he'll ever do that to the team captian."

"Rules are rules, man. They apply to everyone, me included. Besides, I'm sure if we try harder we'd do fine. It's not supposed to be so hard, it's just English." I cringe.

"Yeah, really fucking old English. Thank God people don't talk like that anymore. Who the fuck still reads poems anyway? Imagine if I like a girl and decide to...." The rest of Andrew's words fall on deaf ears the second my eyes move to the door to find the one girl I'd lost hope to ever see again walk inside.

My angel. She's back. Only she seems completely different than she used to be. Her light brown hair is now longer pulled into a ponytail. Her grey vibrant eyes that used to catch everyone's attention are now fixed on the ground as she walks to the closest empty seat she could find. She has lost an alarming amount of weight too, although her figure is mainly hidden behind a baggy grey hoodie and black jeans. She no longer has that big smile that used to brighten up the whole room on her face. If anything, she seems so lost and so sad that my fucking heart aches inside my chest.

My eyes never leave her figure as the lecture starts and ends. My whole attention and focus is on her and I notice things I can't explain. I notice how jumpy she's become, flinching every time an unexpected sound reaches her, even if it's not that loud. I notice how she keeps fiddling with her fingers and nails whenever she's not taking notes. I notice how uncomfortable she is to be here, squirming in her seat every minute, never stopping. I notice how she keeps her head down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, not even the professor's.

For a whole goddamn year I've yearned to see her, I've wanted to know what happened, and I still have no clue. But at least today I got the answer to the question that haunted me the most. No, Ella's not okay. She's far from it.

As soon as the professor dismissed us I shoot out of my chair in order to hurry her way but she's a lot faster than me. By the time I make it out of the lecture hall, she's already walking away towards the exit of the building. A part of me tells me to let her be, to wait until the next lecture, but I've learned from my mistakes the hard way, so I rush out of the building after her.

"Ella!" I try to grab her attention, and she jumps at the sudden sound of my voice before she turns around and meets my eyes with wide fearful ones. "Hey."

"H-hello." She mumbles, taking a step back, and holds her notebook tighter to her chest as if it was a shield. "C-can I h-help you?"

Elle never used to stutter. She spoke freely and oozed confidence with every word, so much that she could be talking in a whole different language yet still mesmerize everyone around her.

Frowning, I realize that she has no idea who I am. I don't blame her. Our only encounter was too brief and around a year ago. The realization, however, makes me nervous and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "Can I borrow your notes? I've missed last week's lectures and I really need them to get my grades up."

I curse myself for my lame excuse, even though it's the truth. I've been back home for dad's birthday last week and I've missed two lectures, but I could've gotten them from Andrew if I cared enough. More importantly, I have no idea if she was even here last week or if this is her first day back.

"Oh." Her eyes dart around us for a moment before she pulls her notebook away from chest and flips through the pages silently. Finding the pages she wants, she turns the notebook in my direction. "Y-you can j-just take pic-pictures."

My frown deepens as I search my brain for another excuse not to end this conversation so short. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with them. I've missed the explanation of those imageries and figures of speech things and now that we're applying them to Shakespeare, I seem pretty lost. Would it be too much to ask if you could explain them to me? You'd be doing me a solid. I really need to get my grades up so I don't get kicked off the football team."

The longer I talk the more anxious she seems to get. Shifting her weight constantly on both feet, her eyes meet mine breifly and I swear I see tears in them before she looks down to her notebook again. I made her uncomfortable and she's about to fucking cry because of me. "You know what? Forget I asked. You must be really busy anyway. I'm sorry for bothering you. Can I still take pictures of your notes, though?"

Her eyes widen as they look at me longer now and I notice they're filled with panic. "I-I didn't m-mean to make you f-feel like you w-were bothering me. I'm s-sorry. You weren't b-bothering me. P-please don't be embarrassed. It's al-alright. I'll h-help you."

Between her stutter and the fast pace she's rushing the words out with, I barely make them out, but when I do they only make my frown even deeper. "It's all good. You have nothing to apologize for. And you don't have to help me if you don't want to. Please don't feel obligated to do so."

She shakes her head shyly, her gaze falling back to her feet. "No, I-I want to help. I w-was going to study them this w-week anyway, so it's not a b-big deal."

"Honestly?" I ask, still worried that I might have pressured her into saying yes.

"I'm a v-very honest per-person." She mumbles, nodding her head and I wonder what the fuck happened to her this past year. She's still as beautiful as she was the day I first saw her, but she's so different now, so scared, so... breakable.

"Then you'd be saving me. Can I meet you later tonight to go through them? Say, around seven?" I ask and she silently nods. "Would you want to meet somewhere or should I come by your dorm? We can study in mine if you want. Whichever you're comfortable with."

She quickly shakes her head, her eyes once again wide and filled with fear that tugs at my heart. "My d-dorm please."

"Alright." I speak slowly now, carefully. "Can I have your number so you can text me your dormroom number?"

She blinks twice. "It's 55, b-building B."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Building B is only for TA's as far as I know. Maybe she's both a student and a TA, somehow. I wouldn't put it past her, she's that smart. "Are you a TA?"

"No." She replies simply.

I clear my throat and she starts biting her nails. I know I'm overwhelming her with this simple conversation, but finally seeing her again after a year has given me such a rush that I can't say I'm thinking straight. "Alright. I'll see you tonight at seven then."

"B-bye." She turns around and walks away and I stare after her fading figure for a few minutes, wondering what on earth could've changed her that much.

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Our Poor Rose.

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