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Although I was overjoyed when I saw Professor McAllister's reply to my email, I was equally taken aback. A surge of fear rushed through me, freezing me in place and preventing me from reading it.
I feared she might say something that would break me. I had been hoping so deeply for this response that I hadn't realized how much I also dreaded it. The very thought of opening that email and reading her words made me feel sick to my stomach.
When her name flashed in the notification, my first instinct was to open the email and dive in, completely forgetting about the friend sitting right in front of me. But that instinct alone was enough to make me hesitate. I decided to wait for a more appropriate moment.
Yet, here I was, staring at her name on the screen, trying to summon enough courage to open that damn email.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I gathered the strength and courage I needed, clicked on her name, and began reading.
The fear inside me eased when her response confirmed that she might actually be okay, that she wasn't gone for good. She was coming back...coming back to me.
Reading her words alone was a confirmation that there was, indeed, a special connection between us. Call me delusional, but it genuinely felt like she cared for me just as much as I cared for her. What seemed to intensify my feelings even further was the fact that she had chosen to respond using her personal email.
I double-checked to see if I had made the mistake, wondering if perhaps I had been the one to use her personal email first. I even entertained the idea that her emails might have gotten mixed up, and she hadn't realized she was using her personal address. Yet, my delusional mind clung to a different narrative, convincing me that it was intentional, that it meant something more.
I mean, she even said, "I apologize." If that's not a sign, then I don't know what is.
A loud thud on the table jolted me from my thoughts, snapping me out of my trance. I instinctively lowered the screen of my laptop and looked up.
What I saw didn't exactly thrill me. Sitting across from me was... uh, what was her name again?
"Hi, how are you? I noticed that You came in late today and missed class...what happened?"
Every word that spilled from her mouth irritated me. It wasn't that I had anything against her...I didn't even know her...but I was hungover, exhausted, and sleep-deprived. This was definitely not the time to be talking to anyone, especially someone whose voice was possibly the most annoying I'd ever heard.
I didn't even bother to answer her question. I wasn't in the mood for conversation, and I wasn't about to pretend otherwise. My behavior probably came off as rude, but I didn't care. I saw her mood shift as she realized how completely uninterested I was. Still, she didn't stop. She kept talking, stretching that fake smile even wider.
As she spoke, her words blurred into an irritating hum that only heightened the pounding in my head. I tried to focus, but all I could think about was how out of place she seemed in that moment. It was as if the universe had sent her to disrupt the delicate balance of my thoughts, thoughts that were still swirling around that email, around her. The more she talked, the more disconnected I felt, as though the world around me was a fuzzy distraction, and the only thing that mattered was what Professor McAllister had written. Everything else was noise.
I blinked, trying to focus on her words, but all I caught was something about missing class. "What happened?" she repeated, her voice grating against the remnants of my concentration.
Honestly, it didn't matter. Nothing did, except that email. But now I was here, forced into a conversation I couldn't care less about, with a girl whose name I couldn't even remember. What was she asking again? Something about being late? I had no energy to explain, nor the will to engage.
I was on the verge of snapping, ready to tell her to just fuck off, but before I could, a familiar voice boomed across the room, cutting through the tension. "Hey, man!" It was Elijah...one of the few people here I could actually stand.
I glanced up and waved back, relief washing over me as he made his way toward us. His timing couldn't have been better.
I seized the opportunity. "Sorry, I've gotta catch up with him," I said, pushing my chair back and grabbing my things before she could protest. Elijah reached the table just as I stood, and without looking back at her, I headed out with him, grateful for the escape.
That was close.
"You good, man? Looked like you really needed to get out of that situation."
"Thank you so much, you have no idea how grateful I am. You just saved my life."
"It's nothing, really. We're friends, right?" he said, flashing me a tight but genuine smile.
I guess you could call us that. Since the day I arrived at Ultria University, Elijah's been the most authentic person I've met. Most of my life, I've been surrounded by people pretending to be something they're not, just to fit in, and I've always hated that.
"So, you wanna tell me why you weren't in class today?" he asked, raising a brow.
"I stayed up late and decided to sleep in," I replied, as honestly as I could.
He nodded, not pressing the issue, and we continued walking toward the exit.
I followed Elijah out of the massive library, and once outside, we parted ways.
Since I'd already missed most of my classes, I figured it was pointless to stick around, so I headed home. It was late in the day anyway, and students and professors were already filtering out of the campus.
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It's been nearly two weeks since Professor Kayla has been absent. In her email, she mentioned going through something personal and needing to step away for a while...but how long is this going to take?
I keep telling myself the sweet words she wrote were just a professor's polite response to a pending email, that she's never coming back.
Yet, I go through my days as if everything is normal, as if her absence doesn't affect me.
I pack my bag and leave the library, heading for class, bracing myself for another painful lesson without her. I didn't bother to be on time...not exactly thrilled at the idea of seeing Professor Jameson's dull face.
But to my surprise, when I entered the auditorium, it wasn't Professor Jameson standing there. It was Professor McAllister.
The way her expression shifted from upset to something more relaxed made it clear she had been disappointed when she walked in and didn't see me.
I knew I was doing it again...connecting every small action of hers to me...but I didn't care.
To me, everything she does is meant to capture my attention.
And she has it.
Every word, every glance, pulls me deeper into this web I can't escape. As I took my seat, my mind raced, wondering if she felt the same pull. Whether it's real or just my imagination, I know one thing for sure...I'm not letting go. Not yet.
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