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The first package arrived on December 6th.
Emma was just returning from the library. The end of the semester was rapidly approaching, and everyone on campus was scrambling to catch up in time for finals week. She really wasn’t at risk of failing anything, but she wanted to be as prepared as possible for her exams. All the studying she had been doing lately had left her so tired she could barely see clearly.
God, she just needed a fucking nap.
When she opened the door, her roommate was buttoning up her thick winter coat, likely headed to the library to do some studying of her own.
“Hey, you got a package earlier today, I left it on your bed.” She says, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “I’m heading out, probably be back before midnight.”
“Thanks. Good luck on your finals.”
“You too.”
A package? She wasn’t expecting anything. Maybe her parents had sent something. In that moment, she was too tired to care. Emma set down her backpack and coat as she walked towards her bed, fully intending to set the package aside in favor of getting some much-needed sleep.
The package was just a simple cardboard box, a little smaller than a shoebox. Emma picked up the package and moved to set it on her nightstand, but froze when she saw the handwriting on the box.
Simon’s handwriting.
Emma stayed frozen for a moment, staring at the box in her hands like it might contain live bees. Now wide awake, she carefully set the box back down on the bed. She stood and stared at the box for a moment.
He sent her a letter every few weeks, but this was new. What the hell could Simon possibly want to send to her? It couldn’t be anything dangerous, Dr. Scott would never allow that. Should she open it? Did she want to open it?
Fuck it. Why not?
Emma grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk. She carefully cut through the packing tape and set the scissors aside before slowly opening the box. She wasn’t sure what to expect.
The contents of the box were surprisingly, thankfully, mundane. Nestled in a bed of pale blue packing peanuts was a dark blue bag of coffee grounds. Expensive-looking coffee grounds. A blue ribbon had been tied around the bag, and tucked into the ribbon was a piece of paper.
Emma held up the bag to get a closer look. She carefully slid the paper out from under the ribbon and flipped it over.
Best of luck on your final exams. Perhaps you could visit me sometime. We could have a study date. -Simon
Smug bastard.
She dropped the coffee and the note back into the box, flushed with anger and embarrassment. Simon’s letters had all been slightly flirtatious, littered with sweet praises and requests for dates. Emma knew he didn’t mean it, he was only trying to get under her skin. What bothered her the most was the fact that it was working.
Simon occupied a large portion of Emma’s thoughts, in more ways than one. Yes, the teasing annoyed her. Of course it did. On the other hand, Emma couldn’t help the stupid fluttering in her chest every time she received a new compliment from Simon. It really wasn’t her fault. It was Simon’s fault for writing bullshit like “Oh Emma, I desperately miss the ocean. How lucky I am that your eyes are twice as beautiful and three times as deep.”
Emma angrily flopped down onto her bed, exhaustion slowly creeping back into the edges of her awareness. She really needed to sleep. She really needed to stop thinking about Simon.
She could deal with the coffee and letter later. She could deal with her feelings never. Emma pulled her blankets up to her head to block out the winter chill. She snuggled into her pillows, seeking warmth as she finally slipped into a deep sleep.
The second package arrived on the 10th.
Emma stared at the box on her desk for several minutes. She slowly sipped her coffee.
“You gonna open that?”
Emma sighed. “Yeah.”
She set her mug on the desk and carefully opened the box. The contents were familiar. Same blue packing peanuts, same blue ribbon wrapped around the package inside. Another note tucked into the ribbon.
Upon closer examination, Simon has sent her a package of sugar cookies. Emma allows herself a moment to admire the elegant packaging before she pulls the note out from under the ribbon.
I thought you could use some treats that are just as sweet as you. I would love the chance to nibble on you sometime. -Simon
Egotistical asshole.
Emma stewed in a swirl of anger, embarrassment, and something else she refused to name. She set the cookies on the desk and stuffed the note in the top drawer. She picked up the empty box and headed towards the door. Going for a run would help. Hopefully.
“I’m gonna take this to the trash before I go for a run. See you in a bit.”
“I might not be here when you get back, I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Ok, have fun.” Emma didn’t stick around for a response, too eager to burn off her feelings on the track.
She spent her first few laps around the track mentally cursing Simon. Stupid Simon and his stupid letters and his stupid pretty face and his stupid gifts. Screw him and his sultry voice that wouldn’t stay out of her head.
Shit.
The third package arrived on the 16th.
Emma was alone in her dorm room. Her roommate had already finished her finals and gone home early.
The box was noticeably larger than the previous two. Emma didn’t bother hesitating before opening the box. She stared in shock at the contents for a moment.
Simon sent her a blanket. A fur blanket. Emma gently stroked the soft brown fur. Holy shit, is this real? She picked up the tag. Sheared Beaver Blanket.
Without thinking, Emma unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was so soft. Softer than anything she had ever felt. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Another note. Emma reached down to pick it up.
Since I can’t be there to warm your bed, this blanket will have to do. Merry Christmas. -Simon
Fucker. Miserable, sweet-talking, sadistic, flirtatious fucker.
Emma flopped down onto her bed, still bundled up in the blanket. She buried her face in the pillows as if she could somehow hide from the giddy feeling in her chest and the heat in her stomach. She huffed. She reminded herself again that it wasn’t her fault, it was Simon’s fault for being an incorrigible tease. It’s not like it would ever matter. Emma would never, ever, act on these feelings. She wouldn’t even ever see him again.
Yeah. Ok.
With that thought, Emma rolled over and slowly drifted off to sleep. When she awoke the next morning, she would do her very best to pretend that her dreams hadn’t involved striking blue eyes, soft hands around her waist, and gentle teeth against her skin.