The Hearts We Hide

04

Miraya

Whatever I had expected law school to be like, it wasn't this. One day I was walking to my first class in my prettiest skirt, hopeful and excited. Next, I was halfway through my second week, in a striped shirt thrown over a white tank, running on three hours of sleep and a dream.

The university library was huge. It was four storeys and meticulously organised. If I were a better reader or had more time, I'd probably spend a lot of time here. But that was an ideal world. Right now, I was looking for a specific book for an assignment we got today. All the newer editions were already taken so the lady sent me toward the back to find an older one they had.

I was trying so hard, to stay ahead of people, to stay awake as long as I could, to put in as much work as I could but every time I went into class, there were five people academically better than me who also looked more put together and fresher than I did. It was all just so impossible. When I called Ahana to tell her about it, she told me I didn't need to be the best to be my best. But I didn't know who I'd be without academic achievements.

So often, I felt like the people in my life didn't really get me. It was easy for them to dismiss the things I prioritised.

Get some sleep, Miraya. 

One bad grade isn't the end of the world, baby. 

Why do you have to focus on the one B and not the five A's?

Because that is not who I was. That's not who I wanted to be.

I went through the shelf my book should be on slowly, my hand already stretched toward it as if it would magically float out.

"Ah!"

There it was. Huge. Terrifying. But I didn't need to read the whole thing.

It hadn't been taken out in a while, judging by how it was slightly difficult to pull it out of where it was tightly packed between two thicker volumes. There was a clear layer of dust on it too.

It's called a precognition, I think. Knowing what is going to happen before it actually does. I checked the contents to ensure it had what I needed and was almost gone when that feeling hit me. I hadn't quite understood it yet, when I was already looking up.

Through the small gap in the shelf my book had created, I saw him again. The blonde boy from before who looked like a love poem. He was in a white shirt. Beige trousers that I couldn't fully see. He was leaning on another tall shelf a few feet from mine and he was so focussed on the book in his hands. I could only see the side of his face, his jawline and a bit of his cheekbone.

Vathek, the title read.

His hands looked elegant, holding the book and it was so unfair. His fingers were perfect. His hands were perfect. His posture looked like he was posing for a picture and not just casually standing. Even his rings were pretty. How could a man just be reading in a library and look so beautiful doing it?

When I looked up from his hands to his face, he was looking at me too.

*

I didn't immediately duck and hide before running away.

I didn't fall on my bed blushing to the roots of my hair.

I didn't die of embarrassment.

I didn't casually scroll through the followers of the official university page hoping to catch a profile picture with blonde hair.

I didn't hide behind subtle questions to Estelle, wanting to know if there was a blonde boy in her major. She gave me a glare I didn't think I deserved.

I didn't fall asleep wanting to run my fingers through his hair.

*

The next day, as my classes progressed, I couldn't stop the second hand embarrassment from my own thoughts.

Why was I obsessing over a boy I had seen twice?

I hated that I was thinking about him so much. I hated that I didn't know his name. I didn't want to know his name. I didn't want him to invade my mind.

"Club introduction events are about to start, you know? Did you look through any of the fliers?"

Emi and I were cross-legged on the floor with two half sipped cups of tea and a few pamphlets on the mini table in front of us. As of now, it was the only piece of furniture in our shared hall.

"I like the sound of the arts and culture society," I murmured, reading. "It says they have a magazine and curate pieces about museums, galleries, artists and also accept any and every creative art. Doesn't sound like a lot of work,"

"I'm gonna join tennis. But I heard sports clubs are really hard to get into,"

"You've won state level medals in tennis, Emi. I'm sure you'll get in,"

"There are students here with national wins. Have you heard of Ren Takahashi? He has international wins.He won his first grand slam last year. He's a legend. I'm so scared I'll run into him. But I also terribly wanna see him just once. I'm sure he'll play college matches. He's on a sports scholarship. Every single university in Europe wanted him,"

"Sorry, actually I've never watched tennis. You should still try though. Just because someone else is more experienced than you, doesn't mean you're not good enough."

In the discarded pile of fliers, there was one about the literature society, for the readers.

 Someone reading a translated Russian novel would be there, no? I didn't want to go. Someone smart wouldn't go. I shouldn't go to such lengths hoping a guy might come talk to me. What would we even talk about? Would he tell me he caught me staring? That would be mortifying. Would he recognise me? Or would he not care?

Acknowledging how stupid I was being and that this wouldn't amount to anything, I decided that I was going to go.

"We should just go to whatever intro event falls on a free evening. Even the ones we've crossed out. I've heard they're fun and chill. They just talk a bit about the club and then let you mingle."

Was I fooling anyone?