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I’m not sure what to do with that.

Christine did something similar freshman year. Once we met, she appeared everywhere I went. And she didn’t seem to mind my quiet and awkward self. Everyone else I’ve met has eventually found someone easier. I’m not complaining, mind you. I like fewer people in my circle.

“Rogers is in the lecture hall, right?” he says.

I glance at him. He should really know the schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays lecture hall, Friday’s lab.

“Yes.”

“Cool.” He seems to say cool when he doesn’t know what else to say.

Once in the class, I make a beeline for my table. Third row. End seat. Closest to the wall. Daniel drops into the seat next to me. I look down at the chair and then back at him. The class isn’t full yet; he had a lot of other options. But he chose the one next to me anyway.

I nibble on my lower lip. What if he feels sorry for me? He’s clearly one of those rare, nice jocks. The unicorn kind. I watch him pull out his book and lay it on the table, followed by a notebook. My heart rate kicks up. Great. Anxiety. Love that.

“You don’t have to sit here,” I say.

“Uh…I know.” He taps his notebook with neatly trimmed fingernails. “Did you not want me to sit here? I mean, I can move…if you don’t—” he trails off and looks down at the table. His throat bobs.

And now I feel like an asshole.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I’m not good with making…” I clear my throat, and my face goes hot. “Friends.”

A smile so bright I almost have to look away as he brings his eyes back to mine. They are sparkling with his happiness. Something eases inside my chest, and I find myself smiling back. Okay. Maybe being friends with him won’t be that bad.

“But I’m willing to try, if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah. Of course. You can never have too many friends, right?”

I would disagree with that, and I’m sure it shows on my face because the smile slips off of his the tiniest bit.

I line up my pens so I have something to do with my hands. But I say, “I like a small circle of friends.”

Hazarding a glance at him to see his reaction, I’m relieved when his smile brightens again.

“I can work with that,” he says.

I don’t have a chance to respond because Professor Rogers steps up to the stand at the front of the room and starts his lecture. And again, I know everything he’s talking about already from my own reading. I lean back in my seat, dropping the pen I clearly am not going to need, and fight the urge to put my headphones on.

Daniel shifts in his seat as he writes down almost everything the professor is saying. I watch him scribble and can see it’s almost word for word. He’d be better off recording it. I might suggest that later.

I suppress a yawn and cross my arms. Waking up at five from a recurring nightmare sucks, and being bored doesn’t help. It will be different on Friday, in the lab. I like labs. At least they are challenging.

Daniel glances at me, his eyes going to my crossed arms, and his forehead crinkling. But he doesn’t say anything.

Once class is over, I put my things back into my bag. He does too, then just…stands there by the table like he’s waiting for me, and my heart does a little jump I can’t explain.

“So, do you have a photographic memory? Or…” he says trailing off when he doesn’t find another option for my lack of note taking.

“I taught myself all of this already, two years ago, apparently.”

“Damn. I wish I could do that. Reading kinda sucks, I don’t absorb it that well.”

“Are you dyslexic?”

The second it’s out I want to slap a hand over my mouth. What the hell kind of question is that? You don’t just ask that. Except my sister is dyslexic and she hates reading, too. In fact, she prefers audiobooks.

“You don’t have to answer that,” I add, fast. “That was rude. My sister—she’s dyslexic. She doesn’t like reading either. I shouldn’t have assumed.”