Not: I had to get some things out. Sorry to all of you Naruto fans out there…this isn't Naruto…but I still hope you like it?
English
What can I say? I'm a freshman in college and I've been single my whole life. I've never been really interested in anyone (though some of the girl's I've seen are quite cute, even if they aren't my style). But here I sit, my eyes following the auburn haired beauty into the room. I have to admit—it's not my thing to think about someone like this the first time I've ever seen them. There's just something so amazing about this one, though. Something that I can't quite put my finger on.
I lean my head against the palm of my hand, expecting him to stop on his way through the room and take a seat near the back where I won't be able to see me, but no. He takes the seat right beside me, his emerald eyes shifting over to me, one hidden behind the mass locks of silky hair.
Oh, I feel so foolish for looking at him, but I can't stop! I try to hide the flush in my face by lifting my English book before my face, but he doesn't seem to notice. He fingers through his own text, his digits long and slender. They look like the fingers of a flautist.
I swallow and try to keep my dry throat from sticking on me. I take in a deep breath and let it out. Maybe we can be friends, but I doubt it if I'm attracted to him. It's days like these that I wish I could just look at people without being seen.
A week passes, and another and another, and every class, he sits next to me. I've learned his name, first and last, by heart. I've learned that his poetry is some of the most beautiful I've ever heard. I've learned that he lives with his sister and that he works part-time at a circus. But I haven't spoken to him, and so I haven't learned how he feels about me.
But today, as Chicken Little said, is a new day. I take in a deep breath and let it out through my nose as he sits down. I can hear my heart in my ears, beating to its own rhythm outside of my control. I don't want to feel nervous, but I do. I smile at him and fidget with the sleeves of my shirt.
"I-I…I…" Damn it, I can't get past that first word!
He looks over at me, those emerald eyes drilling into me, and I swallow again. I fidget some more and take in another deep breath through my nose. And another. And another. "D-do…you…essay…" my voice is so small even I can't hear it.
He quirks one sleek eyebrow at me.
Now or never.
"Whattopicareyoudoingfortheessay?"
He just stares at me, waiting for me to try again, this time slower.
"S-sorry. What topic are you doing for the essay?" I manage to pronounce each word perfectly and carefully.
He smiles and I feel that this smile is meant only for me. I shake a little and smile back, my white teeth peeking out from between my pale lips. "The Things We Carried."
I relax. Now we really have something to talk about. "M-me too!"
He tilts his head to the side and says, "You're Quatre, right?"
I nod. "Trowa?"
He nods.
"Good to meet you, Trowa."
"Same," he replies. There is a moment of silence and I finally ask, "Do you want to meet at the coffee shop and work on the essay a bit?"
His eyes slide into mine and my chest swells. "That would be nice."
I swallow. I think he has more than coffee on his mind—I should know, I do too. But for now we have to concentrate on the English lesson at hand. I open my book, and this time I don't bother to hide my rosy cheeks.
Owari
Note 2: It's sort of going along how I'm supposed to confront a senior in class this coming Wednesday for coffee—essay and all. I suppose we'll see how much of a loser I am. I may write a follow up, depending on how the, um, "discussion" ends. I'm putting this bit at the end so I don't ruin the meaning of the story for you :)