I sped down the hall, the heels of my boots clicking against the tile floor. I glanced at my watch for the hundredth time and swore under my breath. I was late for class… again. I checked my watch again, trying to will time to go backwards. Finally, I made it. I practically flung the door open, and felt every eye instantly turn towards me. My face grew warm, and I frantically looked around for a seat. I spotted one near the back of the room and quickly walked to it, keeping my eyes on the floor. The professor continued his lecture, and I gently set my stuff down and took a seat. I dug through my bag for a notebook and pen, setting them on the desk once I had found them.
I felt eyes on me, and glanced to my left. My eyes met glittering green eyes, before the owner quickly averted his gaze. He tucked his long, brown hair behind his ear and pretended to be absolutely enraptured by what the professor was saying. I jotted down a note before glancing at him again. He was kinda cute. He glanced at me, and I smiled at him before he could look away. He smiled back, and I swear, his smile was the most precious thing I had ever seen. Heart pounding, I returned my attention to the lecture, writing down a few points. I couldn’t focus.
I leaned towards the guy and whispered, “Hi.”
“Hello,” he muttered back. His voice was soft.
“I’m (Y/N),” I said.
“John Richard Deacon,” he responded, not meeting my gaze. I giggled.
“Nice to meet you, John Richard Deacon.” He just nodded as if to say, ‘you too.’ I took this as a sign that he didn’t want to chat anymore. My heart sank a bit, and I returned to my notes.
After class, I packed my stuff in my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. I started to walk out when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to face the cutie I sat next to.
“Um,” he started. “Since you got here late, do you want to copy down the notes you missed?”
“Oh, absolutely!” I exclaimed. “Thank you so much!” He smiled and nodded, my heart fluttered again. “When are you free?”
“Right now,” he responded. “I don’t have another class for a couple of hours. Does that work for you?”
“Oh, definitely,” I responded. “I didn’t get breakfast this morning, do you want to get a bite to eat with me? I know a great cafe, we can exchange notes while we eat.” He nodded.
We walked to a cozy, hidden away place just off campus; a place I visited quite frequently. The barista smiled at us as we entered calling out the standard greeting. We ordered a couple pastries and I got a coffee before choosing a table.
“So, do you want me to call you John Richard Deacon, or just John?” I asked teasingly.
“Just John will do,” he responded with a giggle. He handed me his notebook, and our fingertips brushed. His face grew slightly pink. I flipped it open to the correct page, and dug my notebook and a pen out of my bag. I started writing down his notes in my book, surprised at the incredible detail.
“I like your handwriting,” I muttered, not looking up from my notes. John uttered a soft thank you. When I finished copying his notes, I jotted down my number and a quick smiley face in his notebook before closing it and handing it back to him. “Thank you so much for this,” I said.
“My pleasure,” he responded, tucking his book neatly in his bag. “If you’d like, we can do this more often, study for tests and things.”
“I’d like that,” I replied, maybe a bit too quick. “You take really good notes, I could definitely use your help.” John shrugged.
“I understand it, I guess,” he said. I put my stuff back in my bag, and stood. I waved at the barista before John and I left, walking back to campus. We talked about classes and what we wanted to do after graduation.
I checked my watch; I needed to get to my next class. “I have to go,” I said apologetically. “Or I’ll be late again, and this time I won’t have you to save me.”
“I guess you’d better go then,” he said. “See you tomorrow!” I waved, and hurried to my next class.
We did this every day for nearly three months, becoming closer. I fell hard for him somewhere around week two. I’d take every opportunity to see him and those sparkling green eyes. One day, we were walking to the cafe when his hand brushed mine. He pulled away, sputtering apologies, his face bright red. I laughed it off.
“John,” I said. “Nearly everyone thinks we’re a couple. We might as well start acting like it.” I meant it as a joke, but his face just got redder.
“I really didn’t mean to do that, I mean no disrespect!” He stuttered.
“John!” I interrupted. I took his hand in mine, heart pounding in my chest. “Just ask me out already!” He froze, unsure of what was going on, before grinning the biggest smile I had ever seen.
“Um, (Y/N),” he started. “You’re my best friend; would you like to be more than that?”
“Absolutely,” I responded. We walked into the cafe, hand in hand.
“Well it’s about time!” the barista shouted, applauding.