Will:I was about to ask you the same question
I hit send and look toward her. She looks down at her phone, looks back up at me and pretends to be fake offended. I tuck both my lips in between my teeth so that I don’t start laughing. She starts typing again then my phone vibrates in my hand.
Kennedy:You would try and twist it back on me
Kennedy:Sounds a lot like something a stalker would say
I smile down into my phone. I want to keep talking to her instead of typing my shitty personal statement.
Will:What are you working on?
I look back at her table, hoping to see her face, but she’s no longer turned around and facing me. I’m a little disappointed she didn’t keep the game up, I kind of liked being able to see herreactions to my messages. Bubbles pop up at the bottom of the screen and then disappear. They pop up again, then my phone vibrates.
Kennedy:I’m annotating a global macro economics chapter. Then studying for the LSAT
I haven't told anyone that I’m applying to a physical therapy doctorate program. I’m worried about looking stupid if I don’t get in. Worried about disappointing my parents by not playing in the NHL and throwing away my pro career. Hockey is different from a lot of other sports–I’ve been drafted to the Miami Panthers since I graduated high school. Me and everyone I know have been operating under the impression that after I graduate college, I will move to Miami and play there professionally. Thinking about telling my parents,my dad, “Actually, I’m not going to play in the league anymore, I’m going to grad school” makes me want to throw up.
I have no idea why, but I have a strong desire to tell Kennedy about it right now, to confess my secret to her, but I know if I do tell her, she’ll tell Miranda who’ll tell my parents. And I don’t want a disappointed dad phone call anytime soon.
Will:Disgusting! Good luck with that you giant nerd
I close my phone and place it face down on the desk in front of me. I pull up two examples of physical therapy personal statements and reread them for about the tenth time. I stare at a blank document for several minutes. Why is this so hard? In a blatant attempt at procrastination, I turn my head away from the blank document on my screen and glance in Kennedy’s direction. I watch her for a second, the way she’s hunched over her text book. How she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and nibbles on the end of her pen.
She turns her head subtly over her shoulder and catches me looking at her. I smile, then lift my hand and wave at her from my seat. She narrows her eyes then snaps her head forward, ignoring me. Three seconds later my phone vibrates.
Kennedy:Stop looking at me
Will:I’m not
Kennedy’s always been easy to rile up. I remember in middle school I used to call her John F Kennedy when she was annoying me. That one little name was all it took to get her flustered and red faced.
She glances back over her shoulder and sends me a look that I can only describe as devilish. I nearly laugh out loud at the daggers she’s sending over her shoulder to me.
Kennedy:Can I help you?
Will:Yes. Please Stop distracting me
The bubble pops up again, then disappears. She turns her body and now she’s facing me again, phone in her hands, typing, with a scowl on her face. I can’t stop myself from grinning.
Kennedy:ME distracting you?!?
Will:Yes. Please stop distracting me right this instant. I’m trying to get my work done. I have a GPA I need to maintain over here
Kennedy:If you kept your eyes on your laptop and stopped looking at me, you wouldn't find yourself being distracted
Will:Maybe if you weren't so distracting I’d be able to keep my eyes on my computer
Kennedy:I’m going to come over there and steal your laptop
This is fun. I look over to her to find she’s already looking in my direction. I lock eyes with her, lean back in my chair and put my hands behind my head. I nod my head at my laptop daring her to come try and take it from me. She makes a face at me, then stands up and stomps over.
She stands in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest and one hip kind of popped out. She leans in close to me and I can smell her citrusy and vanilla scent. She’s wearing jean shorts and a tank top. The angle she’s at gives me a perfect line of sight down her shirt. I feel like I’m fighting against gravity by keeping my eyes on her face and not looking down.
Her blue eyes dart between mine and she’s fighting a smile.Kennedy is really pretty. Wait, what the hell? Why did I just think that? It’s got to be like when recognizing a piece of art is pretty. Objectively, Kennedy is pretty. And sometimes, my brain notices it.
“Can you please move to another floor?” she whispers.
“You’re trying to kick me out of the library?” I fake gasp. I raise my voice and nearly yell, “Security! Security! Help she’s–”
