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“No.” You said.
“No?”
“No.” Law stared at you, confused and irritated. He’d finally gotten the courage to ask you out, and you said no.
“Why?”
“Figure it out.” You scowled and walked away. You could hear a groan as you reached your car. It was a sunny day on campus, and all was well. You were starting your junior year of college, and had met Law in Chemistry 101 last year, when you dared to challenge yourself to try something new. It sucked as much as you thought it would. Math and science did not click with you; it was like trying to stick a square peg in a round hole. Or, in this case, a math-shaped peg into a literature-shaped hole.
When you met, it was a week into the second semester of your sophomore year. You were in a huge amphitheater-style classroom designed for large classes. You had been glaring at a particular problem, trying to intimidate it into complying. Just make sense! You thought. You were ready to slam your notebook shut and scream when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around angrily, ready to deliver your wrath upon whoever dared to disturb you. A handsome (stunning!) man with unruly black hair and a matching goatee quirked his eyebrow at you, amused. He leaned forward and pointed at a section of your notes.
Even more irked that this tall stranger was in your personal space, you reluctantly looked at the equation he was pointing at. Your mouth fell open in a silent “oh!” Sheepishly, you turned around and smiled at him before getting to work on the problem. Your heart flipped at the knowing smirk he sent you. That smug bastard.
In the following classes, you noticed that he was always there before anyone else. You figured that he had a class in that room the period before. It wasn’t long before you became hopelessly lost in what the professor was saying. You were starting to panic, your brain stuttering to a stop as your note-taking hand seized. This was impossible. You barely understood the concept from last class, and now the professor was building on it? There was more? To your relief, you felt that familiar tap on your shoulder and turned around. The guy was motioning for you to come and sit next to him.
“Now?” You mouthed, glancing at the professor, who was in the middle of lecturing. He made a face that said “obviously.” Quickly, you scurried to the seat next to him and he tilted his notebook so you could see it. You felt the panic rising again as you noticed that his notes were even more confusing than what the professor was writing down. He must have seen your expression, because he leaned over and said, “Wait for me after class. I have a free period.”
From then on, Law- who he introduced himself as- tutored you after class. He was nice and very smart. He explained things to you in a way that made sense, and slowed down if you got confused. After he finished guiding you through the problems, you would talk about yourselves. Your family, friends, and interests. What your favorite color was and why you hated squirrels. He laughed when you told him about the squirrel that leaped onto your head when you were little. You pouted at first, but couldn’t help laughing anyway.
From how much he was helping and talking to you, you thought he might like you. However, you quickly dismissed the idea because he acted so professional when he was tutoring you. No flirtatious banter or sly looks. No playing footsie under the table. You were both relieved and disappointed; relieved because you didn’t want to ruin your fragile peer-to-peer relationship with him, and disappointed because, well, he was himself.
Despite your best intentions, you fell for him. You’re not sure exactly when it happened, but by the end of the semester you were head over heels for him. Every time his hand brushed yours or he leaned too close to you, your brain stopped working. He just smelled so good, and his voice was so silky and smooth. You often thought to yourself that he’s the embodiment of lust, but that’s not all he was. He was brilliant. He was amazing. He was… too good for you. You were just a lowly Lit major; what did you have on this straight-A biology student? When you passed the class with a B+, you texted him to meet you at a small cafe on campus.
You ordered a coffee for him and waited for him to show up. In your eagerness, you’d arrived early. So much for seeming nonchalant, you thought. You had hoped to give off an air of “cool-ness” that rivaled his. When you saw him turn the corner, you fought down a stupid grin and settled for a small smile and a wave. Your heart began to beat faster as he gave one of his rare smiles; he was stoic by nature. That’s it, I’m fucked.
After an awkward lunch with him being his introverted self and you much too nervous to come up with a good conversation topic, you blurted out that you passed the class. He seemed pleased with the grade you got. When it came time to part, you did the worst thing you could possibly have done. You hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. Except, he turned his head at the last second and you kissed him on the lips. You let him go, your hands to your mouth. You’d done it. You’d successfully ruined any chance of being friends ever again. Horrified, you turned tail and booked it across campus, not stopping until you reached your dorm.
After that, you went back home for summer break. The summer months that were supposed to be fun and carefree were instead suffocating and miserable. You were stuck in your own head, unable to stop thinking about that moment. Why did you have to ruin the one good thing you had? You found yourself glancing at your phone fifty times a day, hoping that his name would show up on your screen. It was unbearable not knowing how you stood with him. If you’d completely destroyed your friendship, you wanted to know about it and have time to mourn your loss. It was impossible to move on without getting some kind of closure.
And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to contact him. Your finger hovered over the call button more times than you can count, and dozens of messages went unsent. It was the worst kind of hell- an eternity of waiting and hoping for something that would never come.
That brings you to now, the following September. You had tried your best to bury your feelings and forget the catastrophic end to your last semester. At best, you had put maybe a teaspoon of dirt over it. When you ran into Law on campus, you froze. You couldn’t move as his eyes met yours, and your feet refused to obey as he made his way towards you. You were going to get the confirmation you’d wanted all summer, but you still wanted to nurture that hope that he might like you. He didn’t text you and tell you to stay away from him, after all. There was hope.
And hope was cruel.
Then he had the audacity to ask you to go out with him. You were furious. You had spent all summer pining after a boy, and now this? Now he just walks up to you like that would erase the last four months you spent in agony? You should be relieved. You should be delighted. But you were beyond angry. It took all your will to walk away from him instead of punching him in his stupid, perfect face. He had your phone number the whole time, and he let you suffer? Who does that?
After that display of absolute buffoonery, you thought you were done with him. You really, really did, but you couldn’t get him off your mind. You also refused to spend any more time waiting and wondering, so you plucked up your nerve and called him.
“Y-yeah?” Law’s voice sounded tinny over the phone, and despite yourself your heart panged.
“Meet me at the cafe tomorrow at 10:00 AM. I need to talk to you. You owe me this after ghosting me all summer.” You hung up and took a shaky breath. Tomorrow.
This time, Law was already at the cafe when you arrived. You were fifteen minutes early, but he was already sitting at the same table tapping his foot nervously. As you approached, you saw him jump up out of his seat and start pacing, his long fingers running through his hair. Then he looked up and saw you. He started towards you, but chose to stay where he was instead. You saw two steaming coffees sitting on the table. Feeling like you were in over your head, that maybe confronting him was too bold of an approach, you fiddled with your necklace. It was a few minutes before you could look him in the eye.
“Look, Law,” you began, “I’m sorry I kissed you. I know you didn’t expect it, and I didn’t even know I was going to do it, but it’s done. I ran because I was scared about what it meant, and you didn’t have the guts to call me. I spent all summer waiting to hear from you, and nothing.” You paused and steeled yourself for what you were about to say.
Law looked regretful, staring down at his tattooed hands with a frown creasing his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand.
“I just have one more thing to say. If you really cared about me, why didn’t you say anything? We spent so much time together, I thought we were at least friends.”
“I was scared too!" The words erupted from Law’s mouth with such force that you blinked. He pressed his palms to his eyes, let out a tortured noise, and looked back up at you. For the first time, you noticed he looked terrible. He always had dark circles, but they were now purple bags hanging under his eyes. His clothes were rumpled, shirt buttons done up wrong. If you weren’t mistaken, it was the same shirt he was wearing yesterday. He looked haunted.
“After you kissed me, you looked at me like the kiss was the worst mistake you’d ever made in your life. Then you ran before I had the chance to say anything. I thought you were disgusted by me, or you thought I was making unwanted advances towards you. Before then, I was planning on asking you out. I wanted to talk to you so bad, but I did the noble thing and let you be. I was a self-sacrificing idiot.” He chuckled darkly, meeting your eyes.
“You… liked me the whole time?” Your words were quiet.
“Of course I liked you! I still like you! If it was anyone else, I would’ve let them drop out of the chemistry class. I hate people. Well, most people. Have you ever seen me talk to anyone else?”
Come to think of it, you had never seen him deign to talk to anyone. In fact, if you had been more observant, you probably would have noticed that he looked for you whenever the classroom door opened. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.
“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.” You felt your brain shutting down. You were panicking. You were finding it hard to breathe. You began to hyperventilate. Then, you felt a pair of strong arms pull you into a firm chest. You recognized the comforting scent that was distinctly Law and clutched onto him. After your breaths evened out, you realized your fingers were gripping Law’s shirt in a death grip. You loosened your fingers, feeling the ache that came after prolonged muscle tension. You didn’t know what to say.
“(Y/n),” Law said gently, tipping your chin up with two fingers, “will you come get coffee with me sometime?”
“As a date?” You asked. Law smiled softly.
“As a date.”