Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

I'm walking to my political science class as fast as I can, but the I'm honestly not going to get there in time for a good seat. Class starts in less than ten minutes.

I sigh, already knowing I'm going to have to sit way at the top and I'll barely be able to see or hear anything. Maybe I should just skip it.

I finally make it to the door of my lecture hall and follow the trail of students budging their way through the door. They all have the same mindset as me and I'm sure they're all fighting for the better spot.

My eyes scan the rows upon rows of seats and I finally see a few at the top that aren't taken. They're not at the very top so if I get to them now I'll probably be able to hear pretty well.

"Atlas?" A voice says behind me as I'm walking up the stairs to the empty spot.

I shoot my head to the side and see Marleigh sitting a few rows above where I am. I notice there's an empty seat besides her. That would definitely be a better spot than up there.

"Are you saving that for someone?" I ask her, hope clear in my eyes.

"Take it," She says giggling. I smile and squeeze past the students already in their seats to get to her.

"I didn't know that you were this class," I say as I sit down and pull out the table from between our seats.

"Well, there are over four hundred people in this class," She says, looking up at me with her blue eyes wide and excited.

"You got me there," I say with a forced laugh.

"Are you majoring in political science?" She asks without taking her eyes off of me for a second.

Marleigh and I haven't been able to talk that much at work, mostly because we're at our own cash registers so it's not the easiest to have conversations with other coworkers.

"I am, you?" I ask her and she nods with a smile.

I watch as she pulls her long mane of fire curls behind her head and tie a hair elastic around them. A few strains fall from the messy bun and I can't help but think she's doing it on purpose.

I remember Trina telling me once that girls will always pull their hair up while staring at you as a way of flirting. I wonder if that's a universal thing or just a Louisiana thing.

"Do you take good notes?" She asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"I do," I say with a nod, still in my own head.

"Do you think I could have your number. Maybe we can meet up and go over them? Plus it would be good to have each other's numbers because of work and stuff." She rambles on. I try my best not to raise my eyebrows at her and her reasoning behind needing my number.

I look down at her hopeful eyes and flushed cheeks and decide it can't hurt giving her my number. Plus, she does have a point. I wouldn't mind having someone to study political science with. It's not like I'm giving my hand in marriage. It's just a phone number.

"Sure, give me your phone." I say with a friendly smile and she lights up instantly.

She hands me her phone and I type in my number quickly before handing her pink bedazzled phone back to her.

"Thanks," She says, that smile still carved into her cheeks.

Our professor begins then so I just give her one last smile before opening my word document to begin typing.

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