"You dropped this," someone says, bending down the same time as me to pick up the 'take back the night' flyer. "
Ow!" We (naturally with my luck) knock heads. I rock back on my heels, examining through squinty eyes who just tried to be helpful and got a concussion for their trouble. "Oh...Oh, it's you"
"It's me," TA-boy from Pop Psych says, squinting back and rubbing his head. "We gotta stop meeting this way"
"Better for your head if we do," I mutter, collecting my books and flyers off the ground. "Um, thanks. I'm not late for class am I"
"No. You'll be right on time if you walk with me."
He grins and I look down, shuffling my books around again. "Um. Sure. Sure. Lead the way"
"Riley," he supplies.
"I remember," I say, looking up at him. (God he's tall...) "Do you remember mine"
He taps a paper underneath my psych book. "Buffy Anne Summers. It's on your schedule"
"Did you remember without cheating"
He grins again. "I checked the class roster too"
"Gotta know who to send the infirmary bills to"
He laughs. "That's funny. You're funny"
"Well, I'm obviously not coordinated so gotta make up for it somehow."
Riley brushes my bare shoulder lightly. "Do you ever wear anything with sleeves"
"Sweaters make me look poofy"
"Maybe you should invest in a jacket"
"I have oodles. They're just back in the room"
He holds the Psych building door open for me. "Well, it makes me cold just looking at you. Do you want my over-shirt?"
I glance at his plaid over-shirt. "It clashes but, um, sure, hey, yeah, thanks for thinkin of me." Riley takes it off and wraps it around my shoulders. I duck my face down to see if it smells like his cologne. Ah. He doesn't wear any.
"Here's class," he says suddenly, making me jump a little at not expecting his voice. He holds that door open for me too. "Take care, ok? I'll collect my shirt after class"
"Thanks. Bye," I manage to say before he's bounding down the steps toward the front of the lecture hall and I find Willow mixed in with the seats near the middle. She gives me a raised eyebrow look.
"What was that about?"
"Nothing. I'm borrowing his shirt-thing, see?" I say, attention (and eyes) on the front of the room.