From the prompt: You're always at the university library at 3am because it's the only time you can focus hello hi same here. For Sophia.
Of Late Nights
She's beautiful.
He keeps glancing at her, and she's beautiful.
He's entranced by the small things. The way she bites her lower lip. How she brings the pencil to her mouth. How a lock of hair falls just near her eyes, and she keeps trying to replace it behind her ear, and it falls again. A small huff, every now and then. Crossing legs, scratching her forearm, rubbing her neck.
Focus, he repeats to himself. Focus.
But the words he's reading are skimming in front of his eyes.
There are four main types of arrhythmia: extra beats, supraventricular tachycardias, ventricular arrhythmias, and bradyarrhythmias. Extra beats include premature atrial contractions and premature ventricular contractions. Supraventricular tachycardias include atrial fibrillation, atrial flutter, and paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia.
Another glance. She's stretching her arms – she does that, sometimes. A small yawn, she passes her fingers through her hair.
And he still doesn't know her name.
There are four main types of arrhythmia: extra beats, supraventricular tachycardias, ventricular arrhythmias, and bradyarrhythmias.
It's three in the morning, and the last one of the students has just lifted the last one of his books and grabbed his coat, and he's exiting, and they're alone.
This may be his favorite time of the day. When he gets to stay with her a bit longer, and to see her open her thermos and drink – is it coffee or tea? He doesn't know.
He leans on his hand with his head, squeezing his eyes. Focus.
There are four main types of arrhythmia…
–
"Hey?"
Someone is gently shaking his arm. He blinks, closes and opens his eyes – his vision is a little blurry right now, so he entrusts his other senses. The wonderful cloud of perfume that is surrounding him. The warmth of the hand on his skin.
He blinks again. It's her. And – god, she's even more beautiful when she smiles.
"Sorry for waking you up," she whispers, amused. He rubs his eyes, scrolls his head a little.
"No, it's okay, thank you," he says, feeling that his own cheek are about to flush in embarrassment. She tilts her head, studying him.
"I think you need a good sleep," she decides. "Anyway, it's almost four, so… we should exit from here, it's about to close."
Four?
He nods, with one last glance at her, shuts his book close. She's already dressed up – black coat, a fluffy white scarf and leather gloves, holds her books close to her stomach. She's waiting, he realizes – she could have gone already, after waking him up, but she's waiting. He rushes to collect his things, grabbing his coat and standing up. She smiles again, turns, and he follows her outside.
It has started raining – it's only natural what comes after, when she sees he hasn't got an umbrella, and clutches her fingers around the handle of hers.
"Where are you staying?" she asks, frowning when he gives her the address. "Well, there's no way I'll let you walk with this rain…"
"I'll be fine," he assures. But she not convinced, she glances at the end of the street, and her eyes lighten up. "Come on," she says, pulling him for a sleeve, and he fastens his arm under hers. They start walking – the rain hits her umbrella with surprising violence. She leans a bit against his body, and he would give anything to have the right to pass an arm around her shoulders, right now, to press a kiss on her temple while they walk…
"I don't even know your name," she muses, and he chuckles. "Don't say it yet," she stops him. "It's more fun like this."
He nods, then remembers she can't see him, and whispers Okay.
–
When they enter, the café is practically deserted. It's one of those weird places, almost impossible to find, but it's a good business near the university – on Saturdays, it opens at eleven, closes at seven in the morning, and hosts loads of students after the nocturnal shenanigans of dancing nights at the nearest club.
He thinks they're weird, the two of them – spending a Saturday evening with their noses above a book instead of hanging out.
His beautiful companion motions for him to go sit – she plunges the umbrella down in the stand, and nears the counter. When she comes back with two cups of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies, he finds himself much more awake. He scoops in the little bench, lets her sit.
"Thank you," he says, taking one sip – feels the warm liquid pouring down and reconnecting his synapsis, lets out a satisfied moan that has her smiling. "Better?" she asks. When he nods, she takes her own mug, blows lightly and drinks.
–
He's staring.
He wouldn't know how to describe it otherwise. He's staring, and he's mesmerized, by the way she is looking at him, by the tiny drops of rain between her hair, by the way her fingers are touching her books, neatly piled on a corner of their table.
Criminal Law, the one at the top says. Private International Law, the other one.
"So, what brings you in the library every night?" he asks. Maybe it's not the best of ice breakers, but she smiles, tells him of her sister – Emma's a teen mom, and her nephew… well, he doesn't like to sleep, he's teething – he cries a lot, and well, she likes the quiet.
Then it's his turn, he tells her of his double life – life at the hospital in the mornings, for his internship, and in the library at night – he still has some exams left before graduating, and maybe it's the exhaustion, but he tells her he left Obstetrics and gynecology to do –
The laugh that follows, he will never forget it.
She throws her head behind, her shoulders shaking, heartfelt hiccups coming from deep down her belly, and… he falls in love.
Just like that.
He will have time, he thinks, to discover her name, or to bring her to the movies, or… just kiss her. For now, he watches her laugh, a tiny smudge of chocolate at the corner of her lips, and it's enough.
