Not wanting to waste the free-time I have, I decide to tackle a portion of the two thousand word essay due next week onSilent Films and Their Impact.
I set my laptop up in front of me, place my earbuds in and press play on my study playlist. The intense electric guitar riff melody of ATEEZ’s Guerilla fills my body with immediate adrenaline. I’m convinced I could type out the entire 2000 word essay right now.
Or even flirt with Rafayel if he’s here.
Instead, within minutes I find myself typing in ‘recent K-pop stages’on YouTube. Whatever, the essay is only 10% of my grade anyway. My phone vibrates, pulling me from the AESPA performance I’d clicked on. It’s Marlon, asking me what I’m up to. A chuckle passes my lips. We literally saw each other no less than an hour ago.
Movement in my peripheral distracts me from the conversation. I glance up.
Ohgod. It’s him.
Rafayel.
Clad in a button up black shirt and sleek trousers, his hair falling graciously over his head. Violin strings play somewhere in the distance - or maybe that’s just my imagination.
“Hey, you,” he says, as he reaches me.
I gawk at him.
Say something. Smile.
“Hi, me,” I stammer, before swallowing, “I mean, hey to you too. What are you doing here?”
The charming smile comes back again, and the butterflies grow frenzied.
“I work here, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” I say, and I want to crawl underneath the table because of how lame I sound.
“We’ve missed seeing you around.”
The blush rises to my cheeks before I can fight it.
“We?” I ask.
“Well, the stacks of books of course.”
“Of course.”
His gaze lingers on mine, and I swear time stops.
“So, what are you in here for today?” he questions.
I gesture toward my laptop.
“Studying, or trying to,” I chuckle, “I have to write this whole essay that’s due in a couple weeks.”
He leans closer, his body hovering a little over me, to peer at the video on my screen. An earthy scent fills my nostrils and I try not to linger on how close he is right now. I pray he doesn’t come any closer, or I swear he’ll hear the pounding of my heart.
“Well, you’ve definitely been productive.”
His eyes skirt to me then, his face closer than I’d realised, that I can make out a faint scatter of freckles across his nose. I glance away, flustered, and focus on the laptop instead.
“Have you finished that book I bought you, by the way?”
I had hoped he wouldn’t bring upA Whisper of the Dark. It’s been sitting on my bedside table ever since he bought it for me. Perhaps I ought to start it, really, for his sake at least.
“Not yet,” I admit, solemnly.
