Stephanie sat by herself at the school cafeteria table, trying to drown out the roar of lunchtime students in the small book of T.S. Eliot poems she clutched in her hands. She smoothed her finger along one of the well-loved, tattered pages, and turned it over.
Crossing her legs, Stephanie took a moment to look around. The general hubbub of the hundreds of other high schoolers was mind-numbing, but typical. Somewhere to her left, a loud group of heavily made-up girls and rugby jocks squalled endlessly.
She sighed and returned to her poems, nibbling on an apple from her bag.
A few minutes later, a bump alerted her to someone's arrival. From her peripheral vision, Stephanie could tell it was a blonde-haired guy. He had seated himself right next to her, but it was unlikely that he was here to talk to her anyways, so she pretended not to notice.
"Hey!" he said brightly.
Stephanie looked up.
The boy was actually really attractive. Attractive to the point where it was difficult to stay focused. Still, she had no idea who he was, not to mention he was infringing on her space. "Hi..." she replied warily. "Do know you?"
"I'm Fletcher. We have fourth period eco together."
"Do we?" She would have noticed him if they did.
"Nope."
"Um. Ok." But she did have fourth period economics, so that was sort of weird.
"Sorry, I'm being really creepy, aren't I?" Fletcher sighed and ran a hand through his short, spiky hair.
"Can we just start over?"
By this point, Stephanie didn't know what to think any more, so she just nodded.
He blinked a few times, seeming to compose himself, and then beamed so brightly that Stephanie found herself slightly disoriented.
"Hi, I'm Fletcher. What's your name?"
Stephanie grinned, bewildered at his sudden change. "Stephanie."
"Nice to meet you, Stephanie. How are you doing on this lovely spring day?"
She couldn't help it: she threw her head back and laughed. Fletcher joined her.
"Sorry," she giggled, "that seemed a little out of place, considering it's autumn."
He shrugged. "Spring is just more poetic to me somehow."
Stephanie opened her mouth to reply, but the harsh shriek of the bell signalling the end of lunch cut her off. Everyone around them got up and began the daily hustle to class, but Stephanie and Fletcher fought against the tide of people, hanging back at their table. As she pulled her bag across her chest, slipping her apple and poems book into the satchel, Fletcher's intense gaze caught hers.
"Speaking of poetry, 'What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from'," he said, so softly the words were meant only for her.
Her breath hitched in her chest. For a second, the shutters behind his eyes had seemed to open, allowing her a glimpse of a deeper personality than what appeared on the surface.
"TS Eliot," he smiled, and with that his eyes did a little flip from ocean- to ice-blue. Then he pulled her close into a quick hug before she could react.
"Nice to meet you, Stephanie. See you around, then." Fletcher smiled once more, then was swept away with the rest of the mob, leaving her to blush and brush at her hair as she moved off to class with the rest.