Page 3 of And Then There's You

Ugh, my stomach feels a little uneasy. Is it the funnel cake? Or because it hit me all over again that I feel alone and without a plan? I try to recall the list we made a few weeks back. We’ve made so many over the years, always wondering which country we would enjoy the most. She always thought it would be Australia, or maybe New Zealand, but my mind has always been set somewhere in South America. I’d be happy going anywhere, though.

I read this quote by Graham Greene that said, “Once your passport has been stamped, your life will never be the same.” I feel that. I should look into getting my first passport soon. As much as I love Oregon, and the few other states I’ve been to, there’s just something that feels so magical and life changing about exploring abroad. I’m convinced traveling to a completely different reality gives you permission to be someone else once you get there. It’s not that I don’t like who I am, it just seems like the level of freedom to be who you want would be different somehow.

I’m startled from my thoughts when a blond haired guy forcefully sits in the black folding stadium chair next to me. He seems distracted too. Okay, stop staring, Maci. I force myself to pull my eyes away from him as the teacher introduces himself. Before he even makes it through the syllabus, my eyes wander back to my right.

He’s leaning forward on the hand furthest from me, which is propped up by his elbow on the desk, twirling his pen in his free hand. Why am I bothered by this? Or am I mesmerized by how intently his soft gray eyes are focused on his spinning pen? It slips from his hand, bouncing slightly off his desk, bringing him back to reality. His eyes lock with mine when he reaches for his pen, but it feels as if he’s looking through me. I uncomfortably shift my gaze toward the front of the class as he returns to his mindless twirling, seeming to not be aware of anything except whatever is happening in his head.

The rest of the class passes quickly, luckily without going over anything but a recap of what we should know from the prerequisite class. I’m reminded how sticky my fingers still are as I slide my book into my bag. It distracts me long enough that by the time I stand to leave, there’s no longer anyone in the seat next to me.

CHAPTER THREE

AsIwalkintoRoom 104 two days later, I find myself wanting to see the blond haired guy again. I’m sure it’s for no other reason than I like the comfort of consistency. I slide into my seat.

Avery left me her stats notes yesterday which is a huge relief. I must have barely missed her stopping by because they weren’t there before I ran out for my first meeting with the running club, but they were on the counter when I got back. It’ll help a lot if I can follow along with them. When I sit back up from pulling the pages out of my bag, I startle slightly upon realizing he’s sitting next to me again.

I wonder if he’s there because he’s a creature of habit, like me, and sticks with the same seat all quarter. Surely, that must be the only reason. He seems a little less distracted today, and if we are going to be seat buddies, I should take advantage of the minute we have left before class starts to introduce myself. I promised myself I’d be better about that.

“Hi, I’m Maci,” I say with much more personality than I intended.

He pauses for a moment, like he isn’t sure I was talking to him. “Troy,” he replies, glancing over at me when he sees there’s no one else around. He looks back down and pulls his notebook out to take notes today, unlike Monday’s class.

The next 100 minutes fly by, and as I’m packing my bag I feel warm fingers graze over my arm. “Hey, sooo it seems like you’re really prepared for this class.”

I chuckle. “Don’t be fooled. My best friend gave me her notes from last year. Math is not my strong suit, but I’m determined not to flunk a class my senior year.”

“Yeah, same. At least we aren’t on semesters like my cousin’s college. Four months of this class sounds way worse than two and a half.” He laughs lightly as he looks at me, then pauses, appearing lost in thought. Before I can respond he adds, “Still going to suck though. Maybe we could be study partners?”

Seriously? A guy this hot actually wants to spend time with me? I know it’s only for homework, but still. “Yes, please!” I reach back into my bag for my phone, but it slips through my fingers. I try to hide my nerves in a small laugh. Ugh, I’m so awkward and clumsy sometimes. Hoping to escape the embarrassment I feel coming over my face, I take a breath as I reach for my phone again and turn back toward him. When I do, he’s holding his phone out for me with a new contact page open. I slide mine into my hoodie pocket before I take his and type my name and my number, going back to add “math class” in parentheses after my name. Taking it back from me, he glances at the screen, and smirks. It’s the first emotion I’ve seen since I met him. The thought is interrupted by an unfamiliar voice from behind me. I didn’t notice anyone else was still in the room.

“Hey, can I join you two later? Everything we learned today went right over my head.”

I try to ignore the instant heavy, sinking feeling in my heart. I know nothing about this stranger, but I like the idea of spending time alone with him. What’s up with that? I wonder if he was just in the right place at the right time. I did kind of stumble across him in the middle of my quarter life crisis, post stuffing my face with funnel cake and wishing I had a boyfriend who would have shared with me. And I mean, let’s face it, Troy is hot. His perfectly styled blond hair against his light skin and soft gray eyes are apparently enough to qualify him as a candidate for that job. I snap myself out of my thoughts, hoping time hasn’t betrayed me, making this interaction weird in any way.

“Yeah, of course!” I say more enthusiastically than I feel, after I realize–quickly, thank goodness–I have no logical reason to say no. I exchange numbers with Carley, after she ties back her red curls, and we make a plan to meet at 4 p.m. tomorrow in the main library to knock out our homework before the weekend. She bounces out of the room, leaving Troy and me alone.

My purple Jansport backpack sits on my lap, and I go to zip it. I sense Troy’s lack of movement, still sitting in his seat next to me.

“Do you go to Sunriver often?” He points at the keychain attached to my bag.

“My best friend’s boyfriend has a cabin there, so we go at least twice a year. It’s one of my favorite places.”

“That’s cool, we’ve had a place there since I was a kid. You bring your boyfriend too?” He’s smooth. I like it.

I laugh. “Yeah, I don’t have one of those.”

“Good to know.” He winks at me. He’s giving off such a confident aura when he’s talking to me now. It feels so different from the person he was on Monday when he seemed so in his head. “It must suck being the third wheel though.”

“I’m used to it. I mean, it would be nice to not be, but it’s easy to be their third wheel.” I shrug, meaning what I said.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Maci.” He stands and swings his backpack over his shoulder and takes off up the steps and out the door.

Outside of math, I don’t mind school. I’d go forever if it were free and if I could learn without the studying and the tests. I think I just enjoy engaging my mind; it’s probably why I read so many thrillers when I’m not reading textbooks. I might not be outgoing enough to introduce myself to study groups, but I like being in the library, surrounded by other people wanting to focus too. It’s how I know my way around the place so well. I’ve learned which study rooms are usually full and which are typically empty. I also know none of them have any cell phone service, so I decide it's best to stay outside until my new friends arrive. Standing outside the giant brass and glass doors, at the top of the stone steps, I stare at the lawn art, trying to figure out what the hell it’s supposed to be.

“You’re not supposed to look confused until we attempt this homework,” a voice interrupts my pondering.

I look up and see Troy’s face straight on for the first time. His gray eyes look a little more blue in the sunlight. His short, blond hair seems to sit there perfectly, even though I can tell there isn’t any gel holding it in place. He’s wearing a gray school hoodie, the bright yellow “O” on the front contrasting his dark blue jeans that fit him well. They don't hang off him, showing his boxers like half of the guys here. I’ll never understand why that's cool. His white Adidas are far cleaner than they should be living in a state that rains half the year. Maci, stop taking inventory of his clothes before he catches you.

I can’t recall what he just said, so I laugh awkwardly and am thankful when Carley walks up the steps. We head inside, and I lead us to one of the study rooms connected to a section of the library that rarely gets seen. Taking our seats at a round table excites me because I don’t have to figure out how to sit next to Troy.

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