Love, Eliot

I Think We're Alone Now

I cursed before stuffing my phone away. The courtyard bustled around me; students hurried down the stone path and paid little attention to my stunned expression.

Eliot could have been any of them. The idea forced me out of my thoughts.

I sprinted towards my class, ignoring the ache in my legs, and swore that I would start going to the university gym. After years of running cross-country, I expected more from myself than a charley horse three feet from Russell Hall.

It took two minutes to cross the courtyard and reach the metal doors. Only four left. A girl, dressed like she came from a rave, stepped outside of the building. She frowned at me before rolling her eyes and brushing against my shoulder.

I slipped through the crack in the door, unwilling to let her distract me. I scanned the hallway. Bathroom? No. Classroom? No. Janitor's closet?

"Fuck me," I mumbled before crossing the hall. My footsteps echoed as I second-guessed my decision.

Is the bathroom a better option?

What if I get caught?

There's no way I have time to turn back now.

Do I have time at all?

As soon as my fingers grazed the door handle, someone coughed behind me. I swiveled on my heel, forcing my hand behind my head as if that was a natural position. The peachy boy from my theater class stood in front of me. The corners of his lips twitched upward.

I forced a smile, hoping to conceal my embarrassment. "Hi."

"Are you looking for English 1101? Because it's right there." He pointed at the room behind him. His faded gray t-shirt clung to his arm and thin black lines peeked out of the left sleeve.

I looked between him and the door, ignoring the potential tattoo. Did he assume I couldn't read the sign that said ENG 1101?

God, he thinks I'm a moron.

I straightened my posture, as if that will help, and met his eyes. "Yeah, I got that."

"Alright, ladies first." He chuckled before waving me into the classroom. I sighed, knowing that any chance I had to come was long gone. The buzzkill wandered off to the front of the room while I marched up the stairs to the back.

But the sudden vibrations in my pocket made shuffling through the last row more complicated than I bargained for. When I finally reached my seat, I yanked my phone out and silenced the damned thing.

I frowned at the screen; Eliot had messaged me to gloat. I glanced up at the professor, who was preoccupied setting up his computer, before tapping the notification.

"Satisfied, baby?"

It should be illegal to be so smug all the time.

I scoffed and shoved my phone down into the farthest depths of my book bag. He's going to wait an hour or two.

The hum of a circulating fan filled the classroom as I waited for the professor to start talking. As much as I enjoyed literature, there wasn't much to ease the suffering of an hour-long lecture followed by a pop quiz.

My attention settled on the front row where the boy from theater class made jokes under his breath with another girl. I scoffed and looked away, annoyed by my ability to get invested in a total stranger.

"Please, tell me you didn't actually go down to the fountain by yourself," a girl whispered in front of me. Her red hair glimmered underneath the faded fluorescent lights. She leaned over to her friend, trying to keep their conversation a secret, and failing.