Maybe he wonders about me.
Wants to know who I am.
Or maybe, maybe I make him come to me.
A drunken frat guy, stumbling too close. A hand reaching where it shouldn’t.
And then, him.
A solid wall of muscle, stepping between us. A hand wrapping around my wrist, guiding me behind him, shielding me like I’m something delicate. “You okay, sweetheart?”
I shiver.
Yes.
Any of those.
That’s how it’ll happen.
My fingers tighten on the wheel.
He doesn’t know it yet.
But soon?
He’ll wonder how he ever lived without me.
He disappears through the gates, his truck rumbling into the lot.
I don’t follow.
Not directly.
Not yet.
Instead, I drive past, and pull into the main parking lot. Because if I’m going to do this, if I’m going to place myself in his world, I need to do it right.
I step out, adjusting my skirt, my cardigan, my soft, delicate little outfit.
The walk across campus is easy. It already feels familiar.
The glow of streetlights, the chatter of students moving between buildings, the lazy energy of a weekday evening winding down.
I slide through the doors of the administration building, my steps light, my smile practiced.
The woman at the front desk looks up, her expression pleasant but tired. Late shift. Uninspired job. She won’t remember me.
Perfect.
“Hi!” I chirp, stepping up to the counter, voice warm, inviting. Sweet. “I was hoping to get some information about registration.”
Her lips press together. She nods, already reaching for a brochure. “Of course! Are you looking to enroll for next semester?”
I tilt my head, thoughtful, considering, as if this is a new idea. “Maybe,” I hum, accepting the papers. “I’ve been thinking about taking a class or two. Just for fun. Something creative, maybe… art?”
That sounds right. Soft. Romantic. Something that suits the Juliet he’ll meet. Something Noah would like.
She slides a glossy booklet across the desk. “Most classes start next month. If you fill this out, you can submit your application online or bring it here.”
