I bite my lower lip and continue writing my social science paper, the only sound in the room the typing of my fingers. The door opens and I stay focused, my fingers brushing my hair back.
I stop when I see a piece of paper slide beside my computer, my eyes flickering to it. Fumbling to open the paper, I read it over and I can tell that it's not anyone's handwriting I recognize.
You never stop looking beautiful.
It's the only thing written and I turn around to look out the windows, no one there. I'm so confused. No one ever sends these kinds of notes to me, let alone talk to me. I like to stay out of it, stay low, and I rarely have interaction with other people.
I get up, nervous and uncomfortable, and I rush out of the building in hopes of not meeting the writer of that note anytime soon.
Once I get to my building, I pick up my mail and walk up to my floor. I pass the man who stays the floor above me and he stares at me once again, the problem I've noticed. I don't mind though, he has beautiful green eyes.
When I get inside, I finish my paper and there is a knock on the door. I get up and open the door, the man standing in front of my door.
"Lucy?" he says, my head nodding.
"I got this by mistake. I didn't open it or anything," he says, handing me a piece of mail.
"Thanks," I shyly breathe out, his head nodding. A smile passes on his lips before I close the door, locking it.
I go back to doing everything as before and I go to school the next morning. Only this time it's different because I have the man in one of my classes.
"Hi Lucy," he called from behind me, my head turning. He sits beside me and I look at him, his green eyes bright and hair covered with a beanie today.
"Hi," I whisper, shy more than anything. Then his friends come barreling towards him, my shy behavior something ignored by the boys.
"Come in back, man. We got to talk about the game," one blonde says, his blue eyes bright.
"I like this seat," Harry says. "It's next to my neighbor."
I feel their eyes on me and I shyly look up, quickly feeling small. Gathering my things, I get up and move seats. It's not so much I'm bothered to sit by Harry; it's the judgement I face from the others.
Class starts and I take notes, my body sitting alone as usual. I prefer being alone.
Another piece of paper comes towards me and I fiddle with it, my eyes skimming the sheet.
You're beautiful when you blush.
I go absolutely red. My hand hides my face and I start writing, not wanting whoever this is to see me this way anymore.
When class ends, I get up and go down to the office. I hand in my schedule and I walk out, a body rushing to be beside mine.
"I'm Harry, by the way." I turn to look up. The man from my building stands tall and his green eyes look at me.
I simply nod, his hand shoving into his pocket. "Do I make you uncomfortable or something? Because I just want to get to know ya," he explains, my lower lip taken between my teeth.
"No, I just..." I trail off, losing my words. Guys like Harry don't talk to me. I don't know how to react.
"You seem shy. It's chill. But I always see you around," he says, his body moving in a way I stop. He looks at me and I look up at him, his pink lips very prominent.
"You stare at me," I say, the first thing coming to mind. I watch as his lips curve into a smile, his dimples very prominent.
"You deserve to be stared at," he grins. The words could be taken in a creepy way, but I feel like he's flirting with me.
I feel myself blush and he steps forward. "I'll take your books. Walk you to your next class," he says, my hands moving the books into his hands.
He walks with me and he makes small talk with me, my head usually nodding. I've rarely talked to guys and the few dates I've been on weren't anything long-term relationship wise.
"Would, um, would you by any chance be free tonight?" Harry asks stopping in front of the room. At first I'm stunned, eyes widening. He's biting his lower lip and I take the nervous impulse in, my eyes going back to normal.
"No. I-I have to study," I say, his head moving down.
"Tomorrow?" he asks, my lips parting. I don't have words. He wants to take me out and I'm losing my mind.
"Why don't you text me the answer?" he grins. He writes something on a post-it note and presses it against my notebook. At that moment, I look at his handwriting and lightly gasp. It's his turn to blush and he meets my gaze, finding my discovery of the same handwriting cute.
"Just let me know, beautiful," he says, my eyes watching him walk away.
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