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Warning: SmUt 16 or older

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Warning: SmUt 16 or older

After feeding Isaac a bullshit excuse about working with Charlie on a project, I'm only a few minutes close to being late for Freshman Statistics. The room is still rowdy because Byrne isn't here yet, so my eyes search the room for the captain of our varsity basketball team. It's pretty easy to find Charlie anywhere. Because, for starters, he has a larger physique than the ergonomic chairs we have, and two, there are always a few girls hanging around him. However, Charlie seems more interested in his phone than the conversation around him, which Ryan has taken control of.  The second thing that stands out to me is the empty seat between Charlie and Ryan. There's a cup of coffee sitting on it like it's saved for someone.

For me.

  I feel a pinch in my chest as I make my way up to him, knowing with no doubt that I have to clear the air and make him understand that it wasn't a date. And maybe tell him that I miss him. God, I miss him so much like I haven't seen him for months. By the time I reach them, my body is shaking with excitement. I can't wait to be next to him.

Jeez, Lorraine. Reel it in a little bit.

"Hey, Ryan." I greet. Not that Ryan and I are friends (the guy's somewhat of an ass), but he is sitting next to me; he's a friend of Charlie's. Besides, it would be impolite if I said hi to Charlie and ignored him.

"Hey, Lorraine," he says, eyes darting to the sunglasses sitting on my head. "Nice glasses."

A little startled by the compliment, I give him an unsure smile, "thanks, I stole it from Shadé," as I sit between him and Charlie. My smile falls off when I remember they share an unlikely friendship after the night of Alpha sig party. "Don't tell."

Ryan makes a show of sealing his lips and throwing the lock away before turning back to his conversation.

"Hey," I realise I'm a bit nervous as I turn to Charlie, who locks his phone and stuffs it in his pocket before looking at me. He's still got that neutral as fuck look on his face that scares me a little. Regardless, I smile and point to the Starbucks cup sitting on the desk. "This mine?"

"Did you have a nice date?"

Saying yes is tempting. But instead, I choose a simple "It wasn't a date" as I draw the coffee cup closer. It's not the time to be a smart mouth.

Charlie leans back in his seat. He nods but doesn't say anything, which freaks me out. I don't know what hurts more; him not believing me or the fact that the coffee I'm cuddling between my hands is cold.

I open my mouth to speak, but the lights in the room dim as Byrne's voice quietens the room, and the presentation begins. I grit my teeth in frustration. It takes a few minutes to catch on to what Byrne is teaching. I had to make peace that I wouldn't be able to talk to Charlie until class ended. So I reluctantly pulled up the presentation on my laptop and focused on Byrne. It didn't take long for me to be pulled into statistics.

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