𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

A L E X A N D E R

I take off my glasses with one hand and rub my tired eyes with the other. The library seems darker than before and I look out the window, realizing how late it is, only now noticing that the sun has long gone down. I turn on the lamp at the table meant to hold at least twenty, but I sit here alone with my laptop and textbooks.

Few other people occupy the library tonight, and I can hear the soft sounds of chatter and the scratching of multiple pens or pencils on paper at once, as well as the typing of keys on computers. A page turns. A chair scrapes the floor as it's pulled out from a table. This last noise is close by and I put my glasses back on and look up, spotting a familiar head of smooth blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail, making her beauty fractionally less intimidating.

"This seat taken?" she asks me, already sitting down directly in front of me as she busies herself with laying out her laptop, one notebook, two textbooks, three highlighters, and four pens. She doesn't look up at me again as she starts to flip the pages of her book, reading through and highlighting parts of it while her lips mouth the words on the page.

Charlotte and I are in the same computer programming course, which was made obvious by our almost identical timetable and matching textbooks during the previous year and this one. Her presence distracts me. Why did she sit with me, if not to ask me something? I look around and take note of the multiple other tables that are completely empty.

I clear my throat and try to focus on my work but she tilts her head to the side, continuing to look down at her textbook and I can't seem to stop staring at the curve of her neck. She looks cute this way, worrying over her lip with her teeth, hair pulled away from her face but the shorter strands falling rebelliously. Charlotte isn't a girl that you'd usually call cute. She's fierce, on and off the field. She's confident and gorgeous and friends with just about everyone. Nobody wants to keep their distance from her, except for me.

She looks up at me and I realize I've been caught staring so I look down. "Are you busy?" She asks, looking at my work and I shrug, knowing that I won't be able to focus on it as long as she is sitting across from me. She stands up and I notice that she's wearing a pair of black Adidas track pants and a loose white top that has been cropped to show off her toned stomach.

Charlotte pushes her things to the spot next to me and walks around the table, taking the seat and turning to me. "Can you help me? You're in my class," She states and I laugh.

"I know you're in my class Charlotte, you sit with me every damn day," She blushes and looks down, and I realize how rude that sounded. I sigh, trying to loosen some of the tension from my shoulders. "What do you need help with?" I ask and she slowly looks up from beneath her eyelashes, pointing to her open notebook hesitantly. I take a look and mentally note that I finished this coding project last week when I was getting ahead of my syllabus, so I begin to explain the format and how to identify and fix the errors on her own.

"And call me Charlie. My friends call me Charlie," she says and I smile back.

"Sure thing, Charlotte."

Charlotte rolls her eyes but I feel my chest warm at her gesture of friendship. Charlotte and I have an odd relationship and have since we both arrived last year. She's the type of girl to go to a party in the next town over and still have everyone recognize who she is. Not that I blame everyone for remembering her, she's hard to forget.

Charlotte has bright, almost glowing green eyes that remind me of kryptonite or something radioactive, making you weak when they're near or warning you to stay away. Her long hair is light blonde, almost golden and when down, reaches her waist, but she usually wears it in some kind of braid or ponytail. She's the school's soccer captain and her body reflects her dedication. She's lean, and her legs are toned and strong.

So basically, Charlotte is as popular as one can get in University and has every guy at this school falling at her feet. I've refused to play her game since she made her interest apparent, no matter how much I can tell that she wants me to join in.

"What do you like to be called?" She asks curiously, looking up from her work to look into my eyes. I feel the threat of being sucked in and lean back in my chair calmly, thinking about her question.

"Everyone calls me Xander," I say honestly, avoiding eye contact with her and turning toward the papers in front of us again.

"Sure thing, Alexander." She says, drawing my attention back to her and if I didn't know better, I'd say she actually looks nervous. Charlotte is better at playing games than I give her credit for.

"Well played," I say, but I can't help the elated feeling that rushes through me when she pays me any kind of attention, and there lies the problem. High school never ends, not really. I'll always be the nerd that people ask to help with their course work, and Charlotte will always be the Queen Bee.