I watched anxiously as my supervisor careful read my sample essay. Relief and joy filled me as a smile crept across his lips; his long, thin finger rested on his chin. My supervisor, Dr. Vice Grinds, was assigned to me when I was accepted. He was a tall, lanky man with short, greyish-brown hair. He didn't wear glasses or a suit; he didn't look at all like I thought he would, to be honest. But he was intelligent- I knew that from speaking with him for just five minutes. He knew his stuff inside and out; there would be no waffling with him. This meant that I had to learn what he wanted me to and fast.
After another minute, Dr. Grinds put my work face down on my new desk and nodded. He looked up at me with a genuine expression. "You're good; your work is very good." "T-thank you!" I blushed, scratching my cheek with my forefinger. "Your last supervisor gave you a glowing recommendation. I was delighted when the department sent me your research proposal." "Thank you, sir!" My cheeks burned brighter. So far, so good! We got on famously; can't ask for more than that in a PhD supervisor meeting. "Now then, about your first year. Do you have an area you'd like to focus on?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Yes, literature." He chuckled. "You came from America to York to study continental works?" All the color immediately drained from my face, making him laugh harder.
"I'm teasing. We encourage all areas of research here. Speaking of research, you're TAing seminar is this afternoon, right?" I nodded. "Excellent! You'll enjoy it, I'm sure. As for us, we'll meet sometime next week, if that works for you." "Sure! Should I….. email you about the date?" "Yes, we'll keep in contact. Just send me a revamped proposal by Monday," he got up and I followed suit. "B-By Monday?!" My eyes grew in terror. "We'll work on a bibliography after that. See you next week, Anastasia. Have a good class!" "Uh, yes, thank you. See you next week," I waited until he was gone before going over to the couch, slinking down onto it. Sighing heavily, a familiar face popped in from the doorframe. Spencer gave me one of his signature grins.
"I couldn't help overhearing." "Hi Spencer," I greeted him a smile. "He likes you!" He rushed over to my side, bending his knees so to get at my eyelevel. "For now. That might change when he reads my new research proposal. I have five days write it," my eyes lowered softly. "Ah, don't worry. That's just your first draft proposal. You'll have lots of time to change it later; just like masters," his hand waved around. "Thanks. What about you? How did your meeting with your supervisor go?" "Oh, the usual: I present idea, prof says "no", I go back to the drawing board" the aspiring artist got up to wander over to his desk beside mine. "Happens a lot, huh?" "Yeah. They say my concepts are just too…. abstract," he sighed forlornly "How is that even possible?" "Eh. I wanted to write on the different ways to express romantic desires through various art medias." "That's…. weird and wonderful." "I know, right?! It's out of the box in a glorious way, and they still shot me down! But I'm not giving up! I'll find a way to do it, somehow…." His finger shot up high.
I looked at Spencer curiously. This was a side of him I'd never seen before. "You're a romantic?" "Oh yeah. I've always loved romantic poetry and stories when I was little. I believe that art is an extension of human emotion. Reading someone's work or looking at their art is like seeing a part of their soul." I didn't say anything, studying him a moment longer. Then, without realizing it, I began to smile- a genuine, impressed grin.
"You're lovely." "Huh?" My office-mate blinked in surprise. I simply continued to smile. "There's something very honest and sincere about you. It's quite lovely, in my opinion." "Thanks! And what about you?" "Me?" "Are you a fellow romantic?" I laughed. "No, I wouldn't say so. I swore off love a long time ago." "Really? Why? Did someone break your heart?" My eyes started to lower. "Yeah, back in high school." "The cad!" Spencer announced, making me giggle slightly. He was fun and funny; I'd give him that.
"I'm not a romantic person in real life, per say, but I write a lot of romance." "You do?!" His innocent eyes lit up again. "Read something to me!" "Oh no! I'm not that good! I just do it for fun; I've always been a writer." "Pleeeeeeeease?" Spencer begged, clasping his hands together. "Writing is a form of art. Maybe you'll give me inspiration; please!" After gazing at him, I finally relented with an exasperated sigh. "Fine, but just a few lines." "Ok! Go!" He leaned back in his chair. I pulled out my phone and opened up a document full of random stories. "This is a section from a short story I wrote before I moved here: 'Mr. Gorgeous stared upon me with those deep, endless eyes- I don't think I have been blessed with the words to describe how they looked in that moment. It might sound bizarre but the best description I can think of is music. His gaze was like hearing a soft melody; full of life and beauty. Each eye movement was its own note, and the song they were playing was my song. A song solely devoted to me.'."
Spencer didn't react right away. He just stared at me while resting one hand on his chin in a pondering fashion. Eventually, his lips melted into a warm smile. "You're right; you have been in love before," he said, getting up to come over to my side. "That was a long time ago, but…. I still remember the feeling…. Even if I never experience it again, I know what it feels like," My hand lifted to my chest. Spencer looked down at me with the softest of gazes. "I think I love you," he said. I blinked up at him and we stared at each other before bursting out laughing. "Well, if I ever need any help on my project, I know who to contact." "I'll be here," then his head turned to check at the clock. "Whoa, is that the time already?! We've gotta teach class in ten minutes!"
This set both of us into overdrive. Spencer dumped everything into his open backpack while I grabbed my tablet. "Ready?" He asked, putting his bag over his shoulder. "Ready." We left the office together, rushing down the hall and out of the common room. Lewbert was in the middle of his online polo game when we burst through the door. Spencer pressed the elevator while he fired us a nasty glare. "No running in my lobby!" "We got class in ten minutes!" Spencer ventured to explain. "Not my problem; no running! And since your leaving, bring me up a diet root beer on your way back." "You want us to bring you a diet root beer?" "Mmmmm, you're right; I should change it up. Get me a diet lemonade instead, and it better be cold!" The elevator dinged, and we rolled our eyes as we got on.
"I don't know how he got that job," I stated. "I don't know how he keeps that job," Spencer added. "There must be so many complaints made about him. Why haven't they fired him yet?" "Rumor has it that one of the university bigwigs got in some major debt with the Manchester mafia. He's thought to be someone's nephew or something." "I don't think that's true." "Yeah, probably not. But it's the only explanation we got," his shoulders casually shrugged. And I grinned at him.
Spencer walked me to my classroom on the second floor. "Ancient theory, huh?" "Yeah. You find it boring?" "It's not logic," he shrugged and added with a side grin. "That's true," I mirrored his smirk. We paused just outside the closed door, turning to each other. "Have a good lecture." "You too." "Will you be in the office later today?" "I don't think so; I have to get home and start working on my proposal." "That makes sense. I'll see you tomorrow then." "See you tomorrow," I waved goodbye with my wide smile. He waved until he turned the corner and I opened the door. I was surprised but not overly shocked when I saw an unwelcome yet well-known presence already sitting inside.
Christian immediately perked up at the sight of me standing there like an idiot. To make matters worse, the only seat available in the ring of ten chairs was to his right. No! I inwardly winced, groaning theatrically in my mind. First my college and now my classes? Why does this keep happening to me?! Shyly and with my eyes down, I quickly went over to the chair beside him, setting down my bag and pulling out the reading without looking up. I could feel his eyes burning a hole through me from the moment I sat down, forcing me to do my absolute best to ignore it. It was about then that our professor entered the room. He'd be lecturing the first class and us PhD candidates would handle the rest. He greeted us with enthusiasm.
"Good morning gents! Welcome to first day of lecture." With no desk to put his bag onto, the professor- I didn't know his name yet- put it on the floor and he went over to the whiteboard. "Right! First things first; let's get everyone's names down. Let's go around the circle; just say your name and your concentration at your turn." I wasn't paying attention, so I don't know who began. I just trying to gather up the courage to gaze up from the floor; I didn't want to look at him, but I didn't want to keep my eyes down for much longer either. Taking in a deep breath, my head lifted slowly, hesitantly. The first thing I saw was Christian's eyes locked onto me. My own gaze grew, my mouth opened a little in surprise. It wasn't a creepy or possessive stare; it was more curious, inquisitive…. with an obvious trace of adoration. I'd never seen anyone look at me like that since Minato…. And it made me feel….. I felt….
"You? You who!" Meanwhile, everyone else in the room, from student to staff, were all looking at us. But we didn't notice; Christian looked at me, and I looked at him- only at him. "Hey, you!" We flinched and turned to see the professor, one Dr. Bhaer whose name was scribbled up on the board, was pointing at me with his felt marker. Christian looked less alarmed than me, but I was quick to regain my composure. "PhD students! It's your turn." "Oh! Um, I'm Anastasia Steele and my concentration is, uh…. literature; continental literature." If I had been in masters, some might have snickered at my choice, but no one did anything. While addressing the professor, my eyes absent-mindedly scrolled over to Christian's desk. I saw his private notes, which were rather neat. What was shocking was the predominant "A" at the bottom right corner. Christian must have known that I noticed because he duly turned his paper over before it was his turn to speak. I saw it, but I decided not to ask about it. I didn't have to, my eyes lowered softly. I saw it….
I couldn't leave the room fast enough when class was done. "Hey!" Of course Christian was right behind me. Ugh, this guy would just not stop! But there was no way I would let myself be alone with him. To my dismay, he followed me outside the department building. I had had just about enough when he tried talking to me again. He sounded as agitated as he looked. "Would you stop?! Why do you keep avoiding me?" "I'm not actively trying to avoid you," I answered, not glancing back. "And now you're lying to me too? Why don't you just stop and listen to me for once?" "Why are you following me?!" I finally grew tired of all this, my own tone sharpening with venom. "I'm not following you. We live in the same college, remember?" He answered with an equal amount of frustration. "Oh," I came to a screeching halt.
We had reached our college building by this point. Neither of us moved until I spun around to finally face him. Our eyes locked as we stared at each other once again, not saying anything for a long minute. My breathing deepened, and my chest began to quiver. "Is it true? What your friends said, about me being your only crush in high school?" Christian didn't say anything for a while. Eventually, he took in a deep breath and lowered his eyes. "Yes," his voice was a lot smoother now. I simply gawked at him as he continued, his eyes on the ground in front of me now. They were soft and soulful, as if to be remembering something pleasant. "Yes, it's true. You're the only girl I ever looked at." "But I… I never saw you look at me," I stammered. "I know, I made sure that you or no one else did," Christian took a step towards me, not taking his eyes off mine. My face betrayed my confusion… confusion and delight. What is happening? Could this be real? Could I have really been so blind?
'He took me lovingly in his arms, using one of his hands to brush the stray hairs from my forehead. With more intensity than I knew was humanly possible, he whispered into my ear: "You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever get to, and there's nothing, nothing that could make me let you go now.' "What are you writing?" Liesel asked, coming up behind me from seemingly out of nowhere. Terrified, I quickly saved and closed the page. "N-nothing!" It was computer class and we weren't technically supposed to write personal things on them. But this class was so boring, and our teacher didn't like me. I didn't see a problem with using the time to work on my stories. This was back before I was any good, or so I thought.
Liesel rested her hand on the back of my chair. "Yeah, right. Ok, well I came so we could next period together," she smirked. "What? Class is over already?" I checked the time on my monitor. She chuckled. "Yep! You were writing again." "Haha, very funny," I picked up my backpack and we headed for the computer lab exit. The bell rang before we got there and a rush of kids for next period came in. On our way, just as we were leaving through the door, I spotted Christian going inside. He didn't see me, busy talking with one of his friends. My cheeks began to blush as I watched him. So, Christian is in the computer class after mine? That's lousy timing. I wonder which computer is assigned to him? Each monitor had a number on it, meaning that we had to use that one all year long. We were out of the room before I could see where Christian sat down. With a sigh, I pressed my math textbook against my chest and walked with my eyes gazing at the floor.
"You know those are shared computers, right?" Liesel's question made me look up in confusion. "Huh?" "Anyone who uses that computer can read what you've written. Nothing's private on there; everything's saved on a shared drive." "I'm not worried about that." "You're not?!" She looked scandalized. "Who would read my work?" "Well, I guess so…" Her eyes scrolled downwards thoughtfully. "They wouldn't know who wrote it anyways. All documents are saved with numbers for titles. You didn't write your name on your work, did you?"
There was a pregnant pause and I peered up to her with a reluctant expression. Liesel's eyes widened. "Oh, Ana…" "I-I didn't think anything of it! I just wrote my name and date on the first page of all my stories, so I would know that there's mine! I totally forget which saved numbers they are; it's supposed to make it easy for me!" She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face. "Well, ok. I guess nothing bad can come of it, but just be careful! You're not supposed to use those computers for anything personal. If Mr. Simpson finds out…" "I'll be careful, I promise," I cut her off, sending her a reassuring smile to emphasize my determination. She did not look reassured.
To be honest, I completely forgot about it; by the time two weeks were over, it had slipped my mind entirely. It was the last day of class before cultural awareness week. Every year, the whole school has their own version of a cultural festival. But it's less plays and maid cafes, and more guest lectures and extracurricular mini-classes. Everyone was super-excited however, because it meant a week off normal classes, including computer studies. Even I was looking forward to not seeing Mr. Simpson for a while. But my luck would prove to run short very quickly.
The bell rang, and everyone headed to the classroom door. I was about to join them when a scary voice called to me. "Excuse me, a word Miss Steele." Oh no! My eyes winced afraid. Why does see want to see me? He probably caught me writing stories when I should have been working on programing, or whatever it is you do in computer class…. I don't know, I don't ever pay attention! Very reluctantly, I made myself turn back to see him. He was sitting at his desk and looking at me with a very strict face. Ugh, no! My feet practically dragged across the floor. This is going to be a nightmare.
"Y-yes, sir?" "I've noticed you've been using the school computer for other reasons outside of your assigned lessons. It says here that you spend more time on Word Document than the proper software." "I….. I…" My brain was screaming at me to say "I can explain", but I couldn't do it. He saw my writing! The first person to ever read any of my work is a teacher, and it's Mr. Simpson to boot! My legs began to tremble as I came to realize that an old man read my youthful romance…. Oh god…. Oh my god… You can't even imagine what that feels like, the humiliation more than anything.
"Listen, Miss Steele," Mr. Simpson rested his elbows on his desk and folded his fat fingers out in front of him. "I know you may not fancy my class, but that no excuse to do your other assignments while you're here." "O-other assignments?" I heard myself utter, sounding confused as all hell. "Isn't that what you're doing on Word? Your homework?" He looked up at me and I slowly, slowly began to see that I was safe….. my work, my secrets were safe, still unseen by mortal eyes. At that moment, I didn't care if it was a lie or if I was in trouble- I would take it! Then maybe he would punish me and drop the matter. I nodded faster than I should have.
"Y-you're right, sir. I have been using Word for my own stuff. I'm sorry; it won't happen again!" "I don't mind if you use Word after you're done your assignments for my class, which you've neglected until now," he sent me a glare at the end of his sentence. I tried to look as guilty as possibly, forcing myself to frown and clasp my hands like a child. "I am sorry, sir. I…. I can catch up!" "Make sure you do," he nodded firmly, like he had successfully chastised me. To make feel him so, I lowered my eyes to the floor in a pensive fashion. Just keep it together until you're out of the classroom, I told myself. Then you can scream for joy. "And I won't have you printing anything more here either, is that understood?" "Print? But I didn't…" I blinked, unsure what he was talking about. "No more," he cut me off by raising his hand; I guess he was finished with me. "You're free to go, Miss Steele." "Thank you, sir," nodding, I quickly grabbed my stuff and ran faster than I ever had to the door. He shook his head gravely as I left.
All my friends laughed uncontrollably when I told them at lunch. "You got in trouble with Mr. Simpson!" "That old, crusty geezer of all people!" "Boy, I don't envy you, A." Hans smirked over at me. I sighed, too relieved to feel embarrassed or angry. "It's ok. It could have been a lot worse." "What did he do to you?" Alice asked. "Nothing. He just told me to catch up on the assignments in his class." "That's all?" Rob asked next. "What do you mean "that's all"? That's terrifying! He's one of the scariest teachers on campus. Just being in the room with him alone is scary enough" Gregory glared at him. "You're right though, Ana. It could have been worse," Liesel finally spoke. She had been quiet that day for some reason, and she was looking at me intently.
"But he said something weird." "Weird?" They raised an eyebrow at me. "He told me not to print anymore, but I never printed anything in the computer lab." My friends laughed again. "Oh yeah, you gotta stop printing those "homework assignments" you keep doing in class," Gregory nudged my ribcage. "I'm serious! I didn't print anything! I do all my printing in the library or at home." "Don't worry about it. It's probably just a malfunction. You know how those machines are always breaking," Rob waved his hand around. "Yeah. I once told the printer in Science B to print one page. It spit out like fifty," Hans added. "See? I'm sure it's nothing; just a stupid error. Happens to every printer on campus," he grinned at me, patting my back for emphasis.
Just like the first time something computer-related happened, I utterly forgot about it within hours. I didn't think of that meeting with Mr. Simpson or the printing nonsense again, but it was awkward to see him in class. Then again, it was always awkward to be around him so that didn't really change either. The following Monday was the start of Culture Week. All the students had to attend different guest lectures, which varied depending on the grade. Aside from that, we were allowed to choose from a list of single, afternoon classes; again, differing between grades. My friends and I all made sure to select the same classes when the time came to register some months earlier. Our morning was already the same- a guest lecture from the University of Vancouver coming to talk about diversity. While I would get quite into feminism as an adult, I found it painfully dry as a teenager. We all did; everyone in the auditorium was yawning and looking rather bored. Gregory even fell dozed off a couple of times.
After lunch was better. The class we chose for Monday was an exotic cooking class. We all piled in the home economics room, where a poor teacher was trying to issue instructions to over fifty kids. Alice, Hans, Rob, and I got there first, saving a place at our counter for the others. Alice and I were joking about something when Rob tapped her shoulder. He pointed behind us with his forefinger. "Look who it is, Alice. Mr. Gorgeous at twelve o'clock," he said with an evil smirk. Alice was already blushing by the time we checked to see Christian standing outside one of the counters. He was laughing and talking with friends, mostly the popular boys. Alice's cheeks reddened and my sizzled a little. Everyone knew that we both liked Christian, but they teased Alice for it more; probably because she was so awkward about it.
Christian, for his part, was completely obvious to us. This wasn't surprising; there was no good reason for him to notice us in the first place. While Alice's head shot back around in shy embarrassment, I stole another glance for a second longer. Then I looked over at her. Poor thing, she was quivering and quite red now. Rob laughed at her, earning a serious glare from me. "What? It's funny how he makes you guys into blithering messes," he noted, still laughing. "That's mean, Rob!" "But it's true." This made me frown. In an attempt to make Alice more relaxed, I pulled out the cookbook and started flipping through the recipes. The teacher told each group at every counter what recipe to make, but who cares. I pushed the book over to her with a smile. "Why don't you pick something you'd like to make?" "I wanna make chocolate covered bananas!" Rob chimed loudly. "I was asking Alice," I placed my hands at my hips. "Hey, Anastasia!" We heard Liesel's voice sudden ring across the room to me. I turned to face her; she was waving as she came over to us.
Liesel's feet suddenly froze at the sound of glass shattering. Realizing that it came from behind us, we all spun around to see Christian standing there with a half-broken cup in his hand. The room came to an absolute silent; everyone was staring at him bewildered. But it was Christian who looked the most confused. He wore a dumbfounded expression, not moving as he stood there utterly speechless. A drop of blood rolled off his hand, landing on the floor just barely missing his shoe. Christian didn't seem to notice. What's strange was he was staring wide-eyed straight in my direction. It seemed to be that he was ogling right at me; that was my first thought anyways. It took me a second to tell myself that he wasn't looking at me, even if it appeared that way. I couldn't help but notice Alice's hand gently lift to her chest beside me. Her eyes were bigger than I'd ever seen them. "He's looking at me," she said in a whisper so small that I barely heard her. "He's looking right at me…"
I wasn't sure if he was looking at Alice; the angle seemed just shy of her. But I wasn't about to tell her that he was looking at me instead. I didn't believe that myself, even though his eyes were locked onto… Everyone violently flinched at an unexpected shriek. A young, blonde girl raced over to Christian, inspecting his hand terrified. "You're bleeding!" She cried in a shrilled tone. "You're hurt, Christian!" This set the room into overdrive. A man practically yanked the piece of glass out of his hand- slicing his own in the process- while all the girls crowded around him to "nurse" his wound. "Just hold on. I'll clean it for you," Barbie told him.
It took Christian a few moments to snap out of his daze. Alice and I watched nervously as the girls treated him. But Christian's eyes only moved after he stared in our, or rather my direction for another second. He blinked, and wearing a frown, his eyes finally turned down to his hand. That was the first and last time I saw Christian look in my direction. I was so young and naïve that I was sure that he hadn't been staring at me. That would have been too good to be true. And what's more, no one else seemed to think that he was looking at me either. Even to everyone in the room, there was no valid reason why he would look our way; it didn't make sense, it didn't make sense to any of us. It sure made Alice happy though. We never talked about it again after that day, but Alice always blushed harder when Christian was around. I never had the heart to tell her that he probably wasn't looking at her…. And I never had the courage to give myself the hope that he was actually looking at me.
Christian and I were sitting at the opposite ends of a bench in the main college stretch outside. Neither of us spoke for a long time; each lost in our own thoughts, I think. I know I was, but I had good reason to think that he was too. His eyes just wandered into nowhere like he was in a trance. He wasn't looking at me, his face was forward. His elbows were resting on his knees, which were spread wide open. My posture was more introverted, as I sat with my legs tightly pressed together and my balled hands resting on them.
I was surprised when I found myself deciding to speak first this time. With the upmost daring, I peered at him from the corner of my eyes. "All these years…. I had no idea." Christian didn't say anything right away, taking his time to meet my gaze. "You really didn't know?" "How I could have? You never told me and you… You rejected me so harshly. I was sure that you hated me," my gaze lowered slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't outright tell you. I tried to show you my affections in… subtler ways." I chuckled, shaking my head. "I missed those too. I never saw any signs." "You just weren't looking for them," he stated, making me frown. But I chose to end on a happy note. His eyes grew in alarm as I stood up without warning; I meant happy for me.
"I'm glad I know now. It… it doesn't change anything, but I'm flatter all the same." "Doesn't change anything?" Christian got to his feet, also frowning now. We stared at each other for a moment before he saw fit to continue. "You mean the fact that you're the only one I've ever looked at twice doesn't mean anything to you?" He demanded. My eyes widened, as did my scowl. "It does, I'm flattered; I really am. But there's no reason for us to be in each other's lives now. That was ten years ago, and PhD lasts three years at minimum. I think we should end it here before…." "Before what? Before you get attached again?" Ok, now I was getting upset. I straightened my stance, making sure to look him right in the eye.
"I just don't want to get hurt again." "Hey, I didn't choose to fall in love with you either, you know. It would be a hell of a lot easier if I could just forget you too." "Are you suggesting that I hurt you? Cause from I remember, you turned me down." "Of course I turned you down! Did you see some of the people we went to high school with? I wanted to wait until well after graduation, but you had to confess to me first," Christian had the nerve to point at me with an accusing finger. I didn't say anything, so of course he carried on- cause of course he did. "I looked for you for a long time after high school but couldn't find any trace of you. And now that you're here, there's nothing, nothing that could make me let you go now." "Wait. That sounds… familiar…... Where have I heard that before?" My eyes grew puzzled. "You really are clueless," he blinked at me incredulously. I glared at him, clearly annoyed.
"Well, I'm sorry for not noticing that a man who never looked at me or talked to me apparently had a huge crush on me. I must have missed all those signs!" My arms shot up into the air dramatically. "Yes! You did! And now, you're going to keep running from the only man you've ever loved because you're scared!" Christian retorted loudly back to me. "Obviously I'm scared! Why would I want my heart to be broken like that again? I vowed that after you, there would be no other." Christian looked at me, curious now. "So it's true then? I'm really the only one you've ever confessed to?" "Yes; yes, you are."
"I'm the only man you've ever given your heart to….." Christian said, almost smiling as he said it. This definitely caught my attention as I blinked at him with gigantic eyes. But before I could say anything, he met my gaze with such intensity, you could cut the air between us with a knife. "It still belongs to me." "W-what?" I asked, suddenly afraid to hear the answer… But also, kind of excited, to be honest. But just a little bit! What he said next, he said flatly. "Your heart: it's mine, and I'm not giving it back."
I merely gawked at him in disbelief. "What?" "You heard me. You never gave your heart to anyone else, therefore it's still mine." Christian shoved his hands into his pockets. My eyes revealed my confusion. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about the girl in high school I fell in love with," and he smiled for the very first time since I'd seen him in ten years. "And she is the best thing that's ever been mine."
Ok, this made me irate. I shot him the most venomous, most hateful stare achieved by human-kind. "My heart isn't yours!" "Yes, it is. You gave it to me, and I never gave it back. I'm keeping it; it belongs to me." I then looked at him despairingly. "You're insane, you know that?" "Tell yourself whatever you need to," he shrugged. "Yeah, well! I don't want my heart back! You can keep it!" Somehow my mind thought this was a good come back. Oh, our subconscious can be an evil thing sometimes- like right now, for instance.
We both blinked, and I slowly comprehended what I had just said. His eyes were as wide as mine when I went into damage control. My hands waved in front of me desperately like I was physically trying to erase the words I just said. "I-I….. I didn't mean it like that! What I meant was….. uh…" My voice was insanely high-pitched; I sounded ten years younger. "Anastasia," I flinched at the sound of my name coming from his lips. It sounded completely different, like nothing I'd ever heard before when he said it. I gazed at him unsure… And he looked back at me with the most assuredness I'd ever seen. "I'm keeping it." This was all he said before he spun around without warning. My face flushed at the sight of him starting to walk away from me.
She is the best thing that's ever been mine… His… This echoed again and again in my head as I watched him go; each step seemed to get longer as he got further away from me…. I don't why, my feet must have taken on a life of their own because I unexpectedly spun around to go in the opposite direction. What did he mean by "his"? I thought it would be evident that I'm clearly not "his", since he virtually destroyed the same heart that I gave to him. And hey! If he had my heart, then I technically had his! He just told me that he loved me, therefore he gave his heart to me! He's just as much mine as I am his.
I was unaware that my feet went from walking to running. Mine…. My hands clung tightly to my chest. He's mine… Christian is mine, all mine…. Only mine…. I was running so fast now that I wasn't watching where I was going. It didn't help that there were tears in my eyes by now. This wasn't going to change anything… Christian and I weren't a couple; we barely knew each other. And we would never be a couple; we would never get together. He would go on with his life and I would go on with mine… We would just hold each other's hearts in our hands along the journey.
It was inevitable that I tripped, landing with a resounding thud on the pavement in front of me. While people instantly gathered around to help me, I couldn't hear anything they were saying. The world was deaf, soundless…. Luckily, I wasn't hurt, but I was too numb to assess that at the moment. This only lasted for a few minutes or so, as I was helped up to my feet. "Are you alright?" One woman asked, scanning me up and down nervously. "Y-yeah… I think so…" I brought my hand up to my disoriented head. "Hey!" Another man away from us waved something in the air. "Is this your tea thermos?" It must have fallen out of my backpack's side pocket. I nodded gently. "Yeah…. It's mine," I stretched out my hand to grab it. It's mine…...
