Simon still wasn't feeling quite like himself, even the day after she'd left him. Nikita, his ex-girlfriend, had broken up with him the previous night. He should've seen it coming by the way she didn't respond to his "I love you" s or hold his hand when they walked. She'd simply come out and told Simon that she wanted to see someone else. Things just weren't working for her anymore. Simon accepted it, and willed himself to forget about her. Forget her sparkling blue eyes and her silky black hair. Forget the way she scrunched her eyebrows together when she was thinking hard. Forget how much sugar and milk she liked in her coffee. Forget which courses they took together at their university. Forget how much he'd fallen for her. There would always be someone else.

But I don't want someone else, thought Simon as he walked, head down and slowly, to his next class. Nikita wasn't in this one; at least he could focus on his lessons this time. I want her back.

Simon felt there were slim odds that he would find somebody else. It had taken him two years to work up the nerve to ask Nikita out to a movie. He wasn't just going to ask out the next cute girl he saw. With his brown eyes and shaggy hair to match, not to mention his glasses and his overall nerdy fashion sense and demeanour, what were the chances said girl would say yes anyways? Virtually non-existent.

Don't lose your marbles, Simon. It won't be like this forever. You're only twenty-three, thought Simon, attempting to lift up his spirits. After all, it won't be hard to find someone with the same interests in university. They'll be in your class!

He kept imagining different ways things could go his way, and ways he could die alone. A dorky exchange girl in need of a tutor. Rejection after rejection. Brushing hands with her at the library as they both reached for the same book. The roses he brought for her left to die on the sidewalk. It could go a million ways, and almost all of them swirled around his head. He harboured no actual hope that Nikita would ever come back, but that didn't mean it was the end of his love life. Or maybe it did. Break-ups always left people thinking that way. It's the end. It's the beginning. In his distracted state of mind, he didn't notice the girl until they'd tripped over each other's ankles, landing on the rough carpet and their books tumbling from their hands.

"Oh, bread-balls," said Simon, launching himself into stacking their books back into piles. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking."

He looked up just as her fingers brushed his, reaching for the text book his hand rested on. He found himself staring past oval lenses at bright green eyes framed on the sides by red hair. He pulled back his focus and saw that she was staring at him just as intently. She looked to be around his age, maybe a year or so younger. Her hair was in a ponytail, pulled back by a fuzzy green hair tie. She wore a short emerald green turtleneck dress over black pencil skirt. The skirt just grazed her knees. Inches below that were the edges of what had to be brown leather riding boots. Simon swallowed and handed her the text book. She was quite pretty. The girl blinked and smiled, snapping out of her daze. Simon wondered what she thought of him.

"Thanks," said the girl. The two rose to their feet clutching their books to their chests. "Uh, I guess I should've been paying more attention. I'm kinda lost. I just got a new course yesterday, and you know how it is."

"Oh, yeah. Easy to get lost," said Simon, hoping he didn't sound like a doofus. Simon looked to her stack of text books and saw that the philosophy text book was the one on top. The one he'd handed to her. The one on the top of his own stack. "Philosophy, right?"

"Actually, yes," said the girl, looking a little amazed. "How'd ya guess?"

"Well, it's on the top of your books. That means you were gonna use it before the others," said Simon. The girl smiled brightly. She had a kind smile, Simon noted. "That also happens to be my next class. I could show you where it is, I've been taking it since that start of the year."

"That'd be nice," said the girl. She shifted her books and held out a hand. "My name's Betty, Betty Grof."

"Simon. Simon Petrikov," said Simon, shaking her hand. "Well, we should hurry up. Don't want to be late on your first day."

Betty laughed and followed after Simon, telling him why she chose philosophy as a course. Simon was content to listen. When they arrived at the classroom, he had all but forgotten about Nikita. He had a feeling philosophy was going to become his new favorite subject…