My phone pings. I pull it out and see a new email notification. Curious, I open the email app and check the new message. Seeing the sender’s name, my eyes widen. It’s from Daniel.Wow. That was quick.The sound of my friends chatting fades into the background as I click on it.
The quickness of his response makes me believe that maybe he is serious about academics after all.
I quickly save his number. Taking a deep breath, my fingers hover over the screen of my phone, unsure of what to type back. Should I keep it professional? Or friendly?
Finally, I decide to keep it simple and to-the-point.
Hello! Anya here.
Please save my contact, and I would prefer
to meet so that I can explain everything in detail.
The moment I hit send, I feel a pang of doubt, wondering if I sound too direct and unfriendly. I see three small dots appear on my phone screen. They blink and indicate that he’s typing a response.
“Hurry up, Anya,” Soph calls, a hint of impatience in her voice.
“You guys get me an iced coffee, please. I will save a table for you,” I plead. They give me a thumbs-up, walking toward the counter.
Daniel:
Okay, let’s meet up in the library.
Today at 7 PM, if that
works for you?
I hesitate for a moment but then type out a reply, my fingers flying across the keyword.
Yes.
7 PM in the library is perfect.
See you there.
∞∞∞
3
ANYA
I feel like I have been pranked. I have been waiting here for half an hour, but there’s still no sign of Daniel. On top of that, I don’t even know what he looks like. For all I know, he might already be here, laughing at how oblivious I am. But he should know who I am. My profile picture has my photo, so unless he’s completely clueless, he should’ve spotted me by now. I glance at my watch for what feels like the hundredth time. The minutes tick by, each one making me more frustrated and angry. I check my phone for any messages or emails, but there’s nothing.
I let out a sigh.Is he not coming? Did he forget? Or worse. Is he blowing me off?I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. It’s only seven-fifteen. Maybe he’s just running late. I will wait till seven-thirty, then I am leaving. I open his contact, looking at his profile picture. It’s a golden retriever dog.Cute. It seems like he is a dog lover; at least we can bond over that if he’s unbearable.
I glance around the library, noticing the other students engrossed in their studies. The soft sound of pages turning and whispers fill the quiet space. I take out my own laptop and notebook. Might as well get some work done while I wait. I am done with scrolling through business news fortoday.
I like being up to date about the business world, and mindless scrolling through social media makes me feel guilty. I open the recent case study I was looking at the previous evening. It is about a tech startup’s rapid growth and subsequent challenges. When I study, I love to highlight everything and make my notes colorful. Black and white notes make me want to sleep. I love annotating; it keeps me engaged.
After a while, I glance up at the clock above the entrance. It’s now seven twenty-five. Only five minutes left until my self-imposed deadline. I am not known for my patience. I sigh. I might just call it a day. I am exhausted.
I gather all my things and place them in my bag, ready to bolt. I hoist my bag over my shoulder and stand up, pushing back the chair. The sound of its legs scraping against the floor echoes in the otherwise quiet library, earning me a few annoyed glances from nearby students. I turn to apologize to everyone, but no one’s paying me any heed. I push the chair inside the table, leaving it the way it was when I arrived. As I turn to exit, I bump into a hard wall, the impact making me stumble back.
“Ow,” I say, rubbing my forehead.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” A familiar male voice rings in my ears. I have heard him somewhere. Slowly, I look up. Standing right in front of me—looking apologetic and a bit sheepish—is the guy from this morning. What the hell? Is he some type of stalker? Or is the universe playing a joke on me? He can’t stop bumping into me. I open my mouth to give him a handful of curses, but he raises his hand in surrender. “Before you say anything, it wasn’t intentional, I swear.” I don’t buy the innocent look he has on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You like bumping into me or what?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
