Page 46 of Blindside Me
Me: Made it to the elevator without combusting. That’s progress, right?
I stare at the screen. Maybe she’s already shoved her phone in her pocket. Maybe she’s too tired to respond.
The three dots appear.
Jade: Were you watching me, Klaas? Stalker vibes.
I smile despite myself.
Me: Campus safety. It’s late. Or early. Depending on your perspective.
Jade: Ah, yes. The hockey player as bodyguard. Very original plot.
My thumbs hover over the screen. There’s something about texting her that’s easier than talking face-to-face. Without those blue eyes on me, I can almost pretend I’m smooth.
Me: Didn’t want to interrupt your dramatic exit. “Don’t fall in love with me, Klaas.” Very cinema.
The dots flicker, vanish, and return. I’ve made her pause. Good.
Jade: I was giving you fair warning. I’ve seen how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.
My stomach tightens. Am I that obvious?
Me: Pure concentration. Trying to figure out if you’re actually taking notes or just drawing tiny robots in your notebook.
Jade: Multi-tasking. I can draw robots AND judge your taste in documentaries simultaneously.
I lean against the wall, grinning at my phone like an idiot. The empty hallway doesn’t care. The security guard making his rounds gives me a nod as he passes.
Me: Sunday. Media room. 7 pm?
Jade: Demanding, aren’t we?
Me: The project won’t rebuild itself.
Jade: Fine. But I’m bringing actual coffee, not that dining hall sludge you drink.
Me: It’s efficient.
Jade: It’s battery acid.
But she was impressed I had her coffee order right.
Me: See you Sunday.
Jade: Try not to miss me too much, sports guy.
I pocket my phone, still smiling. The silence of the building settles around me as I head toward the exit. My dad’s voiceechoes in my head, telling me I need to focus, that distractions will cost me everything.Stay the course.
But Jade doesn’t feel like a distraction. She feels like clarity.
When we’re working together, the constant noise in my head—the expectations, the pressure, the endless to-do lists—it all quiets. I can breathe. Think. Remember why I’m doing any of this.
It scares the hell out of me.
We barely touch. I keep my hands to myself. Maintain a safe distance between our chairs. But every time she laughs, every time she calls me on my bullshit, every time she meets my eyes without flinching, the distance between us shrinks in ways that have nothing to do with physical space.
Don’t fall in love with me, Klaas.
