The air's ripe with the last remnants of Sunday night debauchery. Ah yes, your favorite smell when you leave the dormitory – trace amounts of weed and what must be a generic version of Febreze. The classroom buildings aren't far, though. The stairs that lead up to the giant square that holds all of them are steep to a degree, and their dirty railings are rife with germs, probably. You don't mind dirty, but germs are another story, and the cold season is starting early. With how often you become sick, catching a cold now is out of the question. Not in September – not in the first month of school. It's cloudy today, per the norm if it's not raining, and it's really not any different than usual. Of course, when you almost reach your morning math class, which is absolute shit to have so early in the morning, you see her.

You spot her everywhere you go in this concrete jungle of a campus.

People watching is a thing you tend to do and you noticed her a week or so into the school year. You see her while walking to class, on the way to your dorm room, and in the dining hall – where you happen to work. She's like that spot of rain on a windshield that your wipers can't reach; you always have your eye on it. She looked like your typical pale, blonde, blue eyed girl. Maybe a little more fashionable than the rest, as her outfits are clearly detailed and coordinated, but for the most part she wasn't any different than anyone else.

Until you saw her grin.

It was half-assed, but there seemed like there could be something so genuine behind it – you did a double take; and that was the first mistake you made, Ymir. She caught your gaze when you did it – you didn't want to seem creepy, so you averted your eyes to the concrete below and kept walking as fast as your busted shoes would take you. You could feel her stare burning through your raggedy sweatshirt as you passed her. The girl with dark auburn hair that was with her – the one that always seemed to have various snacks on her – asked her what she was looking at. You didn't hear her response.

From that day on you watched her from a distance – the second mistake. You would catch her looking at you whenever you passed – no longer a burning stare, but a light glance, like a passing bird in the air; and you would give the curtest of nods after a while. By the end of the month you could remember on the top of your head when and where you would see her, especially in regards to when she would be in the dining hall.

The dining hall is a sordid, terrible place to be. The booths, their seats covered in an ugly shade of maroon, are few and far between, and so are the tables. There's so much space left to put more of them, but management never does. When it's a weekend and all but one of the other dining halls are closed, it's a stampede in the morning and the first one to claim a seat survives, while other students prowl in waiting, surveying like vultures for a table to become available. It's always understaffed and no one wants to cooperate – including you. Your supervisor reminds you at all times, like a cuckoo clock set to thirty minutes rather than an hour, what your job is and how to do it when you already know. Annoying fucker. You'd rather just do your job and leave. Work is work when you're poor as shit, though.

When she comes, it's a bit more bearable.

And that's fucking annoying too. No one's ever invaded your mind like this. It tempts you into wanting to take action; something you haven't done since middle school. What if you did start a conversation with her, Ymir? A simple "hi" would suffice, wouldn't it?

...

Nah, that's not your style. This isn't some TV show where things like that work out. No one wants to talk to you anyway – and that's the way you like it, honestly. You don't have to deal with anyone besides those who make the messes at the dining hall; those little shits. Besides, you don't even have a roommate – living in a single and all. It's super expensive, but... it's quiet. The perfect college experience. Everyone keeps an arm's and leg's length away from you if it's possible, too. It's probably because of the constant glower on your face; it doesn't matter. You would prefer to keep people away. People in your life makes for a thousand times more meaningless drama, and the less of that the better. It's more time to concentrate on what's important, more time to focus on living your life and your studies. Both of which are the most important things to you and yet, in ways, are the biggest jokes. Similar to the way you want to talk to this girl – though you wouldn't call it important; no. It's just something that's on your brain lately.

What would her face look like when speaking to you directly, though? Would it be the scared, caught-like-a-rabbit look that everyone always gives you, even when all you do is send a small glance in their direction? You're not sure, since talking upfront is different than passing by each other. Granted, the glower on your face is your relaxed face; that's enough to keep many at bay in general. But whenever you dare take a peek at her when she's eating with her friends, she keeps her eyes on yours for a moment before looking to the ground. No one holds your glance for as long as she does. She doesn't just brush you off, or start whispering to her friends about you like the other students; at least, you don't think. She seems different in that sense – Jesus, Ymir, you don't have time for this. You have work to do. You're supposed to be cleaning tables.

Maybe for a second – just a second – you can imagine you did talk to her. After all, she is alone for lunch today. What would you even talk about? Being a recluse isn't exactly helpful in these situations. You can't think of anything you're interested in, let alone what you might have in common. Why is this constantly bothering you lately? You stare intensely at the old, obviously tattered cleaning cloth you're leaning over instead of scrubbing the table with like you're supposed to – just clutching it for dear life. This is irritating as fuck. You would rather be scrubbing with all you've got and leave quickly than deal with these thoughts corralling together like hens, pecking and scratching at you whether you feed them or not.

It would be easier to just walk over, say something, and let it be after that, wouldn't it? That's exactly what you want to do, so why not? March over there and talk to her. Say "hi," chit chat a bit, if you even have the ability to do that, and then be on your way. No need to ever talk again. Nodding your head, you steel yourself for the interaction. You lift your body from your hunched position hurriedly and turn, ready to walk over and –

"Hey there."

You're startled for a second. You almost bump into her. Almost. You never noticed how short she really is – you practically tower over her; she barely reaches your collarbone. She's looking up at you and wow, you didn't notice how clear her eyes are until now, or how blonde her hair is from the distance. She's not smiling with her teeth but she's certainly smiling with her eyes and to be frank, it's something you can't bear to look at. It's pretty. A little too pretty for her own good. Her voice isn't exactly melodic; a higher pitch – just below the point where it'd be grating. You turn your head to the left and mutter a "Hello," trying to keep your cool. It's quiet for a few seconds – slightly awkward – before she speaks again.

"My name is Krista. Krista Lenz. What's yours?" Your gaze meets hers and fuck this is difficult. Why? You were so prepared not even a minute ago. Normal. Act normal.

"Depends. Why do you want to know?" you say, trying to keep a neutral tone. Krista's eyebrows knit a bit, as if searching for a reason.

"Curiosity, I suppose." Curiosity? You're the same in a way. Might as well drag as much information as you can out of her, though. You smirk – it may have resembled a smile if you hadn't stopped it in time.

"No better reason?"

"Do I need one?" Krista says, confusion in her voice. You think for a moment. She has a point.

"I guess not. Name's Ymir." She smiles broadly at you. She needs to stop that. A silence falls upon you two once again; it's not as awkward as before.

"So, do you have some place to go after work?" Krista asks, her voice becoming higher toward the end and her lips twitch upward ever so slightly; her fingers reach for a piece of her hair, rubbing the very tip with her index finger and thumb.

"Not in particular," you say, tone steady and as nonchalant as possible.

"If that's the case, would you like to join me for dinner later? I usually eat alone today."

"I know." Shit – you let it slip. Her eyes widen a bit, yet in the end she winds up laughing softly, lifting her hand and covering her mouth slightly.

"Well then, can I count on your company?" You ponder her invitation for a little bit. It means you can talk to her and you can't be too fussy, since it was what you wanted. There's no real reason to refuse.

"Sure. What time?"

"Is 6 o'clock fine?"

"Sounds good," you say, your lips moving of their own accord.

"Great. See you soon, then, Ymir," Krista says, a hint of pride in her voice as she turns and walks off. Huh. That went better than expected. After tonight you never have to talk to her again; your curiosity will be satisfied. When she's finally up the stairs, you go back to work – your mind's fog is lifted just a bit. You go about your work diligently, scrubbing tables here and there, cleaning the drink machines and putting more sugary content in them for the generally irritating masses, and refilling the necessities such as salt, pepper, and napkins at every table. Your shift ends and you're rushing to your room to change out of your uniform into something decent and not reeking of burnt, disgusting, fried things that are called food at Sina University of the Arts – sometimes you wonder why it's specifically called an arts school when it has a decent base of majors other than artsy stuff, but that's beside the point.

It's not long before you're in front of the dining hall once more. There're a couple whispers behind you. You glare, intimidating those who are whispering as you walk past and they hush themselves on the spot. They're just a bunch of mice and you're top game compared to them. They're probably talking about you because you're not working at the moment. It's not often that you're in this area when you're not doing your job. It was cheaper and more affordable to buy a meal plan that didn't involve constantly going here; you wish Krista had picked a different place, sort of. There's a new, uneasy feeling inside you far beyond your usual comprehension.

When you enter, the familiar smells, nasty as they are, calm your overwrought mind. You immediately see her from the entrance and she sees you too; she gives a small wave that you acknowledge with a nod. You grab food – or at least something of food-like consistency – and head over to Krista's table. She greets you with a polite smile; her teeth are incredibly white. Did she change her outfit? Looks relatively good on her – okay, more than relatively, but; it makes you a bit self conscious for the shortest of seconds. It's not that you look like shit, it's just that your sweatshirt is ratty and your jeans have faded patches on them. Your clothes aren't important, though. What's important is to figure out what Krista's goal is. She obviously has one. People are selfish, especially you, and don't do anything without having anything to gain from it.

You try to sit down, the chair screeching in protest when you pull it back. You receive a couple looks, but who cares? Krista's still smiling at you. You scratch your cheek and look away quickly as your bottom hits the chair. Attempting to initiate conversation is not a strong suit of yours. In fact, it's your weakest suit – the club; whenever you're playing cards it never comes when you need it – a club would be useful now, since you kind of want to bash your head in. Damn, can't these assholes stop talking about you when you're right there? Whatever; doesn't matter. You and Krista sit there, quiet for a while. You awkwardly stuff your face, because you're hungry as fuck, and she cuts her chicken daintily. The silence is almost too heavy. Someone has to talk. Her face is kind of red – it's drafty in here – Huh. Someone needs to start talking already. Guess it's has to be you.

"So," you say, your tone even. Krista seems startled at first. She regains the demeanor she had before after a moment, though.

"So."

"What's your goal here?" you say, going straight to the point.

"Excuse me?"

"Well?" you prod; Krista's mouth quirks downward, not responding .

"Do I have to have one?"

"Everyone has a motive. What's your deal?" She frowns fully now.

"I only want to get to know you. You're always alone and you're always scowling. But not when you look at me."

"Huh," you mumble, the answer shockingly satisfying. Krista continues on.

"And besides, you're extremely handsome and –"

"Handsome?" you say, smirking a bit. Krista, gulping the tiniest bit, glances away. "Isn't that usually for dudes?" you add.

"Girls can be handsome, too," Krista mutters, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Quiet settles between you two once more. This time you're a little thankful for it. Krista's cute when she looks embarrassed like this. Really cute. Maybe you can make that happen more often; Wait. More often? Ymir, this is a onetime deal. Talk to her, get it over with, and be on your way. Besides, what's there to get to know?

"Maybe we can meet up again sometime? Talk some more?" Krista asks. You ponder her invitation for a moment.

"Depends. What would you wanna do?" Krista hums a bit, putting her hand on her face; she taps her pointer finger against her cheek, putting her thumb under her chin.

"How about a movie?"

"Hate to break it to ya, shortie, but I can't afford that."

"You can't?"

"I loathe to admit it," you say, rolling your eyes, "But I'm broke."

"Then what about my place?" Krista says, her voice small.

"I guess?" What sort of place does she live in? Surely, by her clothes, not the sort of semi-squalor you do.

"Have you ever seen Titan A.E?" Krista asks with a hint of something in her tone – excitement, maybe?

"Nope."

"Then we can watch that," she says with what appears to be a smug grin.

"A'ight," you say; you haven't seen a good movie in a while. Why not? Krista seems happy, too. Like she accomplished something. Who knows? Maybe this will be beneficial, somehow.

"I'll see you soon, then," she says as she motions to stand up. She stops before she fully lifts herself up. "Also, can you please not call me shawty?" You notice the difference in her pronunciation.

"'Shawty' and 'shortie' are different. At least to me. Consider it a term of endearment."

"Maybe I will. Oh, also, it might be easier if you give me your number." You smile at her.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get going, won't ya?" She grins back and you exchange cell phone numbers – you have a shitty tracfone but you don't use it so texting with her a bit shouldn't be a problem. Then, she gets up out of her chair. It squeaks, despite her attempts to thwart the noise; Krista cringes like it hurt her ears. Watching as she leaves the dining hall, she puts her plates on the conveyer belt. You notice something as she walks out; her hips swing a lot. Well, at least it's an enjoyable sight. You stay at the table for a while longer, thinking.

Oh, Ymir. What are you getting yourself into?