I reach forward, unscrewing the top of my strategically placed water bottle to take another sip. My eyes naturally rest upon the back of her head. I put my water bottle at the corner of my desk every class so it lies upon the imaginary line that connects my eyes and her brown, curly hair. This way, I can glance at her whenever I want to take a drink in my calculus class.
I noticed her during our second class because she answered every question our professor asked. It wasn’t until the third week of class that I actually knew the cute math whiz who sat in front of me was named Rebecca. I’ve never actually spoken with her, but I’ve had tons of conversations with her in my head. Sometimes I imagine we'd talk about class or calculus, but lately I’ve pictured going on dates and discussing other things we could do together. I think she’s a big soccer fan because I saw her carrying cleats once, so I imagine talking about that too. I know that seems a bit strange, but it’s not like I’m hurting anyone with my thoughts. As I’ve watched her, I guess my infatuation has grown into a healthy obsession. It seems healthy to me, at least.
I glance down at my notes, or rather, my lack of them. I’ve once again managed to distract myself. She’s the reason I’m not doing very well in this class. Is it creepy that I stare at this girl so much I neglect my work? I haven’t even actively resisted this desire since the end of the fourth week, the week I first tried to get her attention. I thought that if I answered some of the questions before her, she’d be impressed. After the third answer, she still hadn’t looked back at me. I abandoned both the idea and my participation grade.
As I frantically attempt to scribble down everything written on the board, our TA poses a question about integrals to the class. I peer over the rim of my water bottle as she raises her hand to offer an answer.
Nobody else volunteers, so our TA calls on her as per usual. “Well, the area under the curve would be 14, because…” she begins.
By the time she’s lowered her freckled arm, I’m not paying attention to what she’s saying. I already know she’ll be right, as she has been the entire quarter. Instead, I listen and allow her voice to soothe me. I like hearing her real voice more than I like the fake one in my head. This one is softer and more eloquent - I’ve never been able to do it justice. Maybe that’s a sign that I should stop fantasizing about this girl?
Less than a minute later, I realize I’m holding my water bottle once more. I shouldn’t have let myself grab it without meaning to, but I can’t let this go to waste. I’ve caught up on the notes; that’s worth a reward, right? As I take a few more sips, I realize my water bottle is nearly empty. I already upgraded to a larger water bottle, some of my classmates might already notice how much I look at her. I’ll take smaller sips from now on.
As my eyes briefly scan her body, I can’t help but admire her. She’s sitting up straight the way she always does, unlike the rest of our slouching classmates. She always looks so confident. Maybe it’s the soccer. I tried to get her attention at the end of one class, by asking if anyone knew when the soccer game was that night. Instead of getting her to speak up, I had to listen to some guy chat my ear off as she left the classroom. He followed me halfway down Sheridan. What a creep.
My TA gives the answer to another integral. I’d like to find the area under Rebecca’s curves. What a cheesy joke. Of course, I’m incredibly amused by it, enough for me to laugh aloud while my TA is going through the next problem.
My cheeks grow warm as the class turns to look at me. My eyes lock with those of my displeased TA. Who knew that my fascination would get me in trouble with the TA of all people? After a few moments of uncomfortable silence I manage to awkwardly mumble an apology. I’m not sure if my TA actually hears what I say, but she must be satisfied because she stops glaring at me and continues going through the problem. I sigh to myself, returning my attention to my notes.
I wait several minutes before I chance another glance at her. Would she be freaked out if she knew how much I look at her? I know it would be really weird to stare at her all the time the way I’d like to, which is why I devised the water bottle method to limit how much I look at her. The second post I made about Rebecca on our school’s anonymous crush Facebook page was admittedly a little weird since it only described how “fine” her legs are, but it definitely wasn’t as strange as some of the other posts there. Besides, I only made that post because another girl in our class had complimented her on her legs that day. I assumed she’d realize that someone from our class must have posted that at least, even if she wasn’t sure it was me. Instead, three of her friends tagged guys I don’t even know, trying to guess who posted it.
Maybe this all would be more acceptable if I’d actually spoken with her. I think about her all the time, but she probably doesn’t even know who I am. My friends would laugh at me if I told them about my feelings. No, they wouldn’t laugh, they’d think it was super weird. If what I’m doing is weird, I don’t really know what I should do. Could I just stop acting this way? Perhaps I should make sure she notices me. I sigh quietly, returning my attention to my notes.
When the TA dismisses us, I pack my bag to leave. As I rise, I take a deep breath, watching her from the corner of my eye. My heart is pounding, but I’m going to do it. As she’s passing by, I step out of my row. We bump into each other, knocking her notebook and phone out of her hands. It might have seemed a little abrupt, but I’ve managed to stop her. Is this my chance?
I quickly reach down to retrieve her fallen items. As I hand them back to her, I can feel myself blushing. I hope she doesn’t notice it.
“Sorry about that,” I say a little too quietly. The fact that we’re making eye contact for the first time doesn’t really help my confidence. Why was this so much easier in my head?
She smiles kindly back at me, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t your fault.” I nod briefly before turning, getting ready to continue walking when she speaks once more. “What was it you were laughing at in class?”
I turn to her once more, feeling a bit calmer. She doesn’t think I’m a total klutz, that’s a start. “Oh, just a joke a friend told me.”
We walk out of the classroom together, still talking. When we reach the street, she asks, “Do you want to go get lunch now? I always see you in the dining hall after class.”
I nod, at a temporary loss for words caused by the realization that she knows who I am. “Sure, I’d love to.”