Know Your Worth

12

My first ever university examination was right around the corner. I felt like a cat on hot bricks.

Sometimes the fear of flunking paralysed me, and it made me just stare into space for good chunks of time, which in turn led to more stress and anxiety since I had less time to cram information into my head.

There were times where I would discreetly burst into tears, either at the library or at the study desk in my dorm. It didn't matter if Kayla was there or not. I would weep a little at how stressful the examination season was, and then tearfully go back to my books and notes.

I even mustered up the courage (that was mostly fuelled by desperation), to see my tutors for bi-weekly consultations. They calmed my nerves by making me feel more prepared for the tests, but I didn't think I'd ever truly feel prepared and confident to take the papers.

Days went by far too quickly. My countdowns to the first exam were anxiety-inducing at best and completely nerve-wracking at worst.

Truth be told, I was already looking forward to the end of exam season, and that motivated me a little bit.

Just a teeny, tiny bit.

I didn't see Troy as much. I rarely ever saw him, and I stopped getting essay help from him.

There were days were I would go an entire day without talking to Kayla. The same could be said of her.

Sam was the one constant who consistently put in effort to see me, so I reciprocated.
I never got to thank her roommate, but I realised she's probably forgotten about it.

I also really didn't need any reminders of That Incident, as I have now resigned to calling it.

Now I'm at the library, scowling at the diagrams for Economics. I hate the mathematics that is involved. I could do them, luckily, but they were so tedious and easy to make careless mistakes in that I ended up hating a good portion of the material will all my heart.

This hatred was not conducive to productive studying at all.

The only thing I had left to force me to learn was the fear of my partial scholarship being revoked, my mom's disappointment and the shitty results that would haunt me wherever I go during job hunting.

Fuck the whole passion bullshit. It certainly didn't work for me.

I have crumpled and torn up several pieces of foolscap paper, either in frustration or defeat, or possibly even both.

My eyes felt dry and itchy. My head hurt. My hands were beginning to cramp. My pen ink was running out.

Someone caught my eye, and I stared at the familiar, tall, leanly muscled and broad-shouldered body.

For some stupid reason, goosebumps prickled on my skin. I told myself it was just the cold from the air conditioners.

There is this weird, jumpy feeling that I get whenever he is near. I still don't know his name yet.

I have my suspicions, but best to never confirm it.

Besides, he probably has a girlfriend. Strictly off-limits.

Not that I'd ever voluntarily approach him. I'm way too self-conscious for that.

I risk a quick peek, and realise with part horror and part excitement that his gaze is fixed on me.

I peek behind me, and there was no one there. It was just me taking advantage of the huge round table space. The few others were sitting at the individual tables and study cubicles with their laptops.

I swiftly look at my notes again. I didn't comprehend a word of it.

I could sense him moving towards me. I kept my facial expression as neutral as possible.

He probably just wants to say hi and leave.

He sat beside me. He was very close. I could feel the heat again, emanating from his body. Like my personal human heater. It was nice, in contrast with the chilly atmosphere.

I ignored him. If I opened my mouth, I'd make a fool of myself again. Embarassing myself in front of Sam and her roommate is one thing. A  very hot guy is another.

He just takes his laptop out, and starts studying. I sneak a glance. A white, shiny, Macbook Air.

His keyboard sounds were very therapeutic. Very creamy, and they were a steady pulse of sounds. He was a fast typer, it seemed. Unlike my slow fingers that more often than not, spent more time hitting the delete button than the actual letter keys.

I was thoroughly discobombulated.

He could have picked any place to sit. Yet he chose to sit  right next to me. But why?

I would choose to sit as far as possible from myself, if I were him.

He hadn't said a word to me, and I was not plucky enough to initiate a small chat with him.

I just attempted to rewrite my essays.

It was peaceful, after a couple of minutes of internally freaking out that Grey Eyes wanted to sit next to me for whatever reason.

He would be typing away, and I was scribbling away as well.

Then, his hand appears in front of me, palm outstretched, offering a gourmet, dark chocolate-covered coffee candy. A silent offering.

I shook my head. I don't want to seem like a glutton. Mom always told me refuse at the first offer.

Then his other hand grabs mine, and he places the candy on my palm. I jump at the sudden contact.

His hands are warm, just like the rest of him. And boy, they are large. His fingers are long, and his palms feel rough. His nails are short and clean.

I look at him, and flinch a little at his intense gaze. I couldn't help it. I started to blush.

He still hadn't let go of my hand.

I tried to play it cool, and shrugged as if to say, if you insist.

I wasn't going to turn down fancy candy the second time round. He finally let go of my hand.

I shakily tore open the wrapper and ate the candy in one bite.

It was delicious.

I whispered a tiny "thanks," to him, and he smirked.

I felt hot and bothered by that smirk. It was so unfair at how sexy it was.

He definitely had bedroom eyes, even if he wasn't actively trying to do so. He was really that gorgeous.

I was feeling a little overwhelmed by him, so I threw a quick goodbye at him and left.

Like an idiot, I turned my head to sneak another glance at him, and found him frowning at me.

I didn't care. I jogged out of the library. I could feel his stare.

I realised I still didn't know his name.

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