PROFESSOR CHANTREA STOOD behind her desk, chattering away with a small group of students who were trying (and failing) to suck up to her. I'd once again forgotten to email her my assignment, so I wrote it out to give myself a proper excuse for submitting it two days late. The chances of her letting me off the hook were slim, but that was the first time I'd ever handed anything in later than I should've. (It was also the first assignment I'd been given in histology class, but we don't talk about that.)
My heart hammered against my ribcage with every step I took. It probably wasn't worth it-the waiting and my very evident hunger-but since I'd already stayed five minutes, I figured a few more wouldn't be so bad.
The students slowly exited the hall, and I was left with my professor. I didn't think it mattered to point out my obvious nervousness, but once we got the main business out of the way, Professor Chantrea got right to it.
"Doctor Chantrea, I have a ... Is it okay if I submit my report now?" I asked her, clutching my binder to my chest.
She looked from my eyes to the binder. "Is there a particular reason I didn't get this two days ago?"
Apprehension clawed at my insides. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Clearly, I didn't think this through. Not that I thought about it at all, I had been too busy trying to edit the report and test out Carter's app.
"I wrote it out. I couldn't print it, and my internet kept failing, so I wrote it out. I didn't think I'd have to pen it down, and I've been so busy with school and other stuff that-"
"Lenny Harlow," she began, a hand stretched out towards me, "it's okay. I will review your report as soon as I'm done with the other stack that was submitted on the due date." I handed her the binder and she set it on the surface of the desk between us. "Anything else?"
I shook my head. "No, that's all. Thank you."
The walk from her desk to the door was more composed, and I found that I could breathe easier. I normally had no trouble speaking to people, but the thought of the possible consequences of late submission-such as a failing grade-was enough to send me into a frenzy. I wasn't necessarily scared of Professor Chantrea. I wasn't scared of anyone. Of anything. Not spiders, not snakes. Not even Slenderman.
My confidence was false and short-lived. I only had fifteen minutes to grab a snack and head to my next lesson (quite cruel, if you asked me), which was on the other side on campus, and I didn't have a suitable means of transportation. This is why my parents should've gifted me a car for my nineteenth.
Thankful it wasn't raining, I hurried my pace and weaseled my way through the narrow spaces between clusters of people. I could probably hang around the café and recuperate whilst sipping on a much-needed cup of coffee, even if it meant being a few minutes late to Radiotherapy 121.
The smell of pastries and coffee beans filled the crisp air. I stopped to inhale it, uncaring whether or not someone else wanted to exit the café. My lungs were as good as tired from all the exertion, and I hadn't had a chance to breathe properly since Histology class ended.
Today, the café was awfully uncrowded, which surprised me because it was the best around. That meant I had an array of seating locations to try out, but there was still no way I was going to plant myself smack dab in the middle of the shop.
I peered at the arrays of edibles beneath the display glass. I wasn't much of an eater, but I liked good-tasty-stuff. Snacks, food, sweets, beverages; it didn't matter how unhealthy it was as long as it tasted okay. And I knew for a fact that the banana muffins staring at me tasted magnificent.
The barista emerged through a door behind the serving booth and I nearly tripped over my boots. What are the odds? He hadn't noticed me yet. That, or, he had, and he was merely ignoring me. I didn't think to comment on how unprofessional it was to ignore a customer-I could easily leave a complaint.
When he raised his head and met my eyes, a startled expression crossed his features for the briefest of moments. He was probably thinking the same thing I was: What are the odds?
It surprised me how quickly he was able to switch back to work mode. He set his hands on the counter and looked right at me. "What would you like to order?"
My eyes wandered downwards. He wasn't wearing a name tag. Bummer.
"One caramel macchiato and two of those banana muffins."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but your choice of beverage is unavailable and I seriously don't want to go through the trouble of making something so basic." He paused. "How about you try one of our new additions?"
I didn't know if he was playing with me or not, and I didn't have the time to figure that out, so I gave in. "Okay," I drawled, rolling my eyes. "What do you have?"
"Um ... There's the iced green lemonade, cinnamon latte, and, the infamous butter beer frappuccino," he told me, counting off his fingers. "Personally, I'd suggest the first option, but the last is just as good."
A sigh escaped from my parted lips. "I'll take the cinnamon latte. Maybe I'll try the rest some other time." I managed a tight lipped smile. "Thank you."
As I made my way to a small table tucked away in a corner, I replayed our conversation in my head. The café was a place I visited often, courtesy of their stellar honey biscuits. But I'd never seen ... that guy there before. The thought of him stalking me crossed my mind, but I shoved it away.
While I waited, I scrolled through my notifications, glancing at the digital tell-time at the top right corner ever so often. I was already late for Radiotherapy. There was no longer a need to hurry up.
A new message dropped from CJ.
CJ: do you have any matches yet??? Piper is breathing down my neck
Me: nope. haven't had the time
CJ: really? what're you you doing rn?
Me: waiting for my coffee
Me: speaking of coffee, you know that guy we sorta met at the library?
CJ: the hot guy from two days ago? your secret lover?
A smile tugged at my lips.
Me: yesss, my secret lover. he's here
CJ: here as in ... you're on a date?
I nearly choked on my saliva.
Me: no, wtf? he works here. a date?? CJ, A DATE?? are you kidding me? i don't even know the guy's name
CJ: don't you want to?
Me: absolutely not, thank you very much.
Instead of putting up with more of CJ's pestering, I clicked on the little maroon coloured icon that took me to my most recently installed application. So far so good, I had a few recommendations, but I didn't intend to swipe right (or was it up?) on anyone's profiles just yet. Not until I absolutely had to. Not unless the lives of everyone on Earth depended on it.
Ianthe, 20
Dealer and getaway driver
UPENN
2.2 miles away
I like colours and art (including graffiti). Flirting is my strong suit. (If that doesn't convince you, perhaps my last name will.)
Stifling a laugh, I attempted to swipe left, but was interrupted by the barista calling for me.
"Order of one cinnamon latte and two banana muffins," he said in a loud voice. My cheeks heated up with embarrassment as I slowly got to my feet. Surely enough, no one paid me any mind, but he did not have to call out my order. Maybe I didn't want the entire café thinking I could scarf down two muffins in a span of five minutes. Sue me.
"That would be me," I whispered, then set my phone on the counter next to my order. "Did you really have to announce my order like that?"
He shrugged. "I forgot to ask for a name," he said. "It was either that or the pretty girl in black."
Self-consciously, I looked down at my outfit; a maroon coloured shirt paired with black leggings and a pair of black boots. "I'm not in black."
"Well," he started, leaning forward a bit, "your shoes look black to me."
Successfully fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I said, "Can I pay for my order now? I have a class to get to and I'm already running late."
His hand secured itself around my cup of coffee and he averted his eyes. "Well, you see, I've decided that since I made you alter your initial choice beverage-which was horribly basic, by the way-I will be paying for this unhealthy mid-day meal of yours."
I felt my lips curve upwards. "That's an oddly nice thing to do for a stranger." My fingers curled around the top of the paper bag that contained my muffins. "Thank you again."
With a smile, I turned on my heels. The heels of my shoes clacked against the tiles, my breathing shallow and forced. Just when the door shut behind me, I was hit with a realization. He called me pretty.
He called me pretty.
Him. The hot barista guy in engineering.
The guy who indirectly aided my histology report.
The guy whose name I did not know.
I hoped I'd never see him again-even though the chances of that (based on the number of times I'd run into him just that week) were pretty non-existent-not because I hated compliments, but because I had an affinity for making bad decisions, and he was nothing but a bad decision waiting to happen.
If my past mistakes had taught me anything, it was that the thrill, or the possibility of it, was never really worth the aftershock.
Hello, wonderful and lovely people who put up with my writing! How are you doing today?
For anyone who's read EALL, you'll probably (maybe, if you are/were attentive) spot the teensy tiny Easter egg gently placed somewhere in this chapter. Of course, I didn't do it just to link the two books together, but it was somewhat necessary, and now, I'm rambling.
Personally I think this chapter was rushed/paced faster than it should've been (whilst somehow managing to be short), but what are your opinions? I hoped you enjoyed reading it!
Until next week,
- angel ✩