The class begins, but I find myself concentrating more on the ten
-s econd stare with the brunette than on the professor. I watch her put things in her bag, pull things out, twirl the ends of her rich brown hair with her fingers, keeping her head down. She practically has her eyes glued to her notepad, taking notes while she keeps up with the lecture. She only lifts her head up when the professor is sketching on the blackb oard.
Why can’t I take my eyes off this girl? I must look stupid right now, just staring at the back of her head. I can’t even see her
face. Before I know it, the time has passed and class is coming to an end. As the other students start to get up and make their way out, I stay motionless in my seat, still watching the back of her. Her long hair, a rich brown colour, falls perfectly: straight to her shoulders, with little curls at the ends. She stands up once she’s packed her things away in her bag, and I find myself on my feet at the same time. She slightly turns her body in my direction, I wonder if she wants my attention. I run my fingers through my hair and pretend to look up at an old wall clock, hoping she hasn’t caught me ogling her again. I’m not exactly sure why, but I feel confused in her presence. It’s a sense as if I’ve met her before, maybe? But then again, I’ve met many cute girls in my life. She doesn’t look fami liar.
I watch her walk out the door of the classroom. For a few seconds, I freeze in the same spot then get my feet going as she turns the corner. In the hallway, students are everywhere, rushing through the crowds to make it to their next class. I can’t see her anywhere. She’s disappeared from my sight completely. I’m not even sure what face to look for: I only noticed her eyes and the baby -b lue shirt she wore. Her dark hair looked perfect against that colour. I start walking over to my next class, but I can’t get her out of my head.
The rest of the day passes slowly until, finally, my last class is over. Liam and Phil will be waiting for me outside at my Lexus, so I grab my bag, after shoving my books in, and throw it over one shoulder. I walk through the halls at a good speed and make my way out the doors to the parking lot where Liam is already waiting for me next to Snow W hite.
“Where’s Phil?” I ask, a little anx ious.
“He should be out soon,” he ans wers.
Liam looks at me for a few seconds, analyzing my mood.
“What’s the rush?” he asks.
“No rush,” I lie. “Do you want to get something to eat when Phil gets out?” I ask, changing the sub ject.
“Yes. I’m starving, actu ally.”
“Good, so am I.”
While we wait for Phil, groups of students start to flood out of the building. I find myself looking through the crowd for a brunette with a baby -b lue top. My eyes are searching everywhere, and I start to feel dizzy. She’s nowhere to be seen.
Then my eyes suddenly catch Philip who walks right up to where Liam and I are wai ting.
“Food?” he asks in a demanding ma nner.
“Yes,” Liam and I answer at the same time.
We get into the car, and I bring her to life. She’s ready and raring to go! I switch my satellite radio on, turning it as loud as it can go so that Liam doesn’t ask me a hundred questions about why my mood has shifted from this morning. Besides, I can’t get her out of my head. I hope playing music loud enough will restrict us from talking while I’m lost in my own thoughts. I want to turn the car around and head back to campus. I want to see her eyes again—there’s something about them that drew me into her. I keep thinking how, for a moment, I was completely lost in their depth. The memory from the classroom replays in my mind over and over again, picturing her baby -b lue shirt and the way her hair fell against her back and her beautiful brown eyes. I regret not looking at her face more. I’ll need to analyze her features next time. Now I have to wait until I have organic chemistry again, which isn’t for a few days. I know this because I already checked it, desperate to find out when I’ll see her a gain.
“E lvis!”
Liam is shouting my name over the loud music, throwing me out of my thou ghts.
“I’ve called your name twice, man. Where’s your head?”
“You missed the entrance to the restaurant,” Philip says from the back seat as I look in the rear -v iew mirror and catch his confused gl ance.
I keep looking in the mirror to check the road behind us and see the sign: joe fortes seafood
&
chop h ouse .
“I must have missed it,” I say under my br eath.
“Missed it?” Philip asks, surprised. “We come here all the time.”
He gives me a mocking little shake of his head. Liam stays quiet with a curious expression on his face.
Thurlow is one way so I have to turn up Haro and circle back around. Finally, we pull into the parking lot, finding a spot near the entrance to the restau rant.
“A perfect spot for Snow White,” Liam says with a smile, and I smile back as we walk over to the d oors.
Philip speeds off ahead—when he’s hungry he gets a little cranky.
We step into Joe Fortes, and it’s busy as usual and the place looks great. Oakwood décor surrounds the upper level, and fancy
chandeliers hang from their high ceilings, with a bar that circles the centre of the restau rant.
“Hey, guys. It’s really nice to see you again. Welcome back,”
says Jo anne.
We know most of the staff since we come here often, and she’s been a server here long enough to know us well.
“Hi, Joanne,” the three of us reply at the same time.
“It’s nice to see you as well,” Liam adds, flirting a little with the pretty dark -h aired server. Joanne blushes and walks us to our t able.
“The usual to drink?” she asks.
“Yes, please,” I respond, and she walks away to get our drinks while we all ignore the menus since we already know what we want to o rder.
“First day back to reality, eh boys?” Philip s ighs.
“Yeah, something like that,” I say with a little f rown.
Liam gets a text message, and while he’s responding to it, he still pays attention to our conversation. When he’s done, he turns off the phone and sets it screen down on the t able.
“Are you going to tell us what happened at school today?” Liam asks, looking right a t me.
Crap! I can’t get away with anything with him. No wonder he’s studying psychiatry—even when he’s hardly trying he can read people, especially the people he k nows.
“Here are your Coronas, boys,” Joanne appears just at the right time, placing our drinks in front of us. “Are we ready to order?”
she asks with a s mile.
“Definitely ready,” Philip answers eag erly.
He’s the first to order: sirloin steak, medium -r are . Liam asks for Joe’s fresh seafood cioppino, and I order the filet mignon, medium -w ell . Joanne walks away to put our orders in. The place is getting a little busier. I reach out and hold my beer with both my h ands.
“So?” Liam st arts.
He isn’t going to let thi s go.
My eyes shift from my beer to him, and I sigh, hesitating a little, as I don’t know how to explain this mor ning.
“There’s this girl in my organic chemistry cl ass … ”