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If only that unwritten rule of "we-don’t-have-assigned-seats-but-where-you-sit-on-the-first-day-is-your-assigned-seat" didn’t exist. Then maybe, just maybe, Chris wouldn’t be ready to pull his hair out every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.
Of course he had to sit behind some loser stoner who wears a beanie every day and never pays attention to the lecture. Sure, he’s got his laptop open and seems attentive enough, but unbeknownst to the professor and apparently everyone else, all he has open is a YouTube tab playing some gaming channel with the captions on. What the fuck.
Unfortunately, Chris, being the nerd he is, can’t help but shift focus from the professor’s (ironically) undecorated powerpoint on art history to this kid’s laptop screen. Especially since he’s watching a play through series on one of his favorite games and this professor has an almost comically monotonous voice.
Bueller. Bueller. Chris repeats in his head, making a point to look past this guy’s screen and read the slides in front of them. He spins his pen in his hand before jotting down something about Rembrandt and his brilliant contributions to the Baroque period. It’s boring, and art or anything related has never been his strongest subject, but he needed an elective and this one let him keep his Fridays off. Now he wonders if it was worth it, struggling with the subject matter as is and dealing with this mother of in-class distractions on top of that. He steals a glance at a particularly explosive scene in the video and finds himself wondering how this kid is doing in the class considering that he never pays attention.
***
He gets his answer three lectures later. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and the class is tasked with analyzing paintings from different eras and explaining their interpretations. Josh has been able to name each and every artist, technique, and period, including the obscure ones. His voice is low, and he talks slow and smooth like molasses. The professor is pleased, and Chris is furious.
“It’s fucking unbelievable!” Chris exclaims, crossing the shaggy purple rug in Ashley’s apartment.
“Every class. Every single class, this Josh guy doesn’t pay even a little bit of attention, while I,” he says as he gestures to himself dramatically, “am suffering. Every. Day.”
Ashley snickers behind her hand from the couch, watching Chris pace like an agitated animal.
“Oh quit with the dramatics, you only suffer two days a week. Maybe he’s got photographic memory?” she suggests, still giggling.
“Or maybe he’s made a deal with Satan. Or maybe he is Satan,” he gasps as if he’s just made a discovery.
“Chris,” Ashley raises an eyebrow and cocks her head to the side, drawing his name out.
“Ashe,” he replies, mocking her tone. She stares at him until he groans and plops down onto the couch next to her.
“It’s just not fair,” he whines, sliding down the couch with his shoulders slumped.
“You know you don’t actually have to sit behind him, right? You do this to yourself, dude,” she says reaching into a bowl of M&M’s on the coffee table in front of them. She picks out the green ones and offers them to Chris.
“You can’t insult me and then offer me green M&M’s, Ashehole,” he sulks, taking them and popping them all into his mouth at once.
“I’m not insulting you! It’s true,” she says, rolling her eyes and shoving him lightly.
“Seriously, Christopher, why do you sit behind him if you know you’ll be distracted?”
“Because the class is sooo boring and as distracting as it is, it’s a welcome distraction.” He pauses thoughtfully and mutters, “I just wish it was as hard as him as it is for me.”
“Christopher! That is an awful thing to wish on somebody you don’t even know!”
“I know his name!” he says defensively. Ashley scoffs and let’s out a laugh.
“Oh, excuse my mistake, then,” she replies sarcastically, smiling at him with that “you’re-a-dummy-but-I-tolerate-you-anyways” smile that he’s all too familiar with. He smiles back at her sweetly before they scroll through her Netflix account and land on an episode of Friends they’ve seen a hundred times.
***
The following Tuesday, Josh isn’t watching a video game play through. He’s watching cat videos.
Chris squints at the screen in disbelief as the professor is going through class announcements and an overview of the day’s lesson.
At least that isn’t nearly as interesting he decides, sorting through his notebooks before pulling out the one labeled (f)Art History. He added the “(f)” on that Thursday he decided Josh was the most annoying person on campus. He opens to the next blank page, determined to get through the class without looking at his screen.
Fifteen minutes in, the professor is droning and his determination falters. Josh is still watching cat videos instead of play throughs, but Chris notices his shoulders shaking lightly as if he’s stifling laughter. Chris adjusts himself to get a clear look at the laptop, curious, just in time to see some fluffy thing hanging onto a spinning ceiling fan for dear life.
He lets out a bark of laughter, surprising not only himself, but Josh and everyone else in the class. Josh immediately startles and turns around, just as red in the face as Chris assumes he is himself. It’s the first time he’s seen his face, and the first thing that crosses his mind is “not bad,” whatever that means. He kicks himself for it.
“Is there a problem, mister…?” the professor trails off, clearly not knowing his name.
“No sir. Sorry,” Chris squeaks, covering his face.
“Okay. Now then, Filippo Brunelleschi’s three dimensional contributions to the Renaissance…” Chris barely hears, ears hot and buzzing with embarrassment.
Life ruiner. Life ruiner! he thinks, glaring holes into the back of stupid Josh’s stupid beanie. If he didn’t hate him before, he certainly does now. He dares to glance in front of him again, and Josh actually has his laptop closed and his head propped up on his elbows.
The rest of the class is spent entirely distraction free, and Chris finds himself wishing Josh would just open up his laptop again.
When class finally ends, Chris is already packed and set to bolt before the professor even announces the homework. He shakes his leg, anxious to get up and go home as soon as they’re dismissed. He’s not sure why he’s so antsy. After all, that fleeting moment of embarrassment has already been forgotten, and he knows that no one is going to bother him about it. Still, he’s just ready to leave. The clock ticks into the last minute of class, and he gets up, subtly speed walking towards the exit.
He tries to count how many hours it’ll be until Ashe is done with class and thinks about calling her to hang out and tell her how much more he hates—
“Hey!” a vaguely recognizable voice calls after him.
It takes Chris a second, but he realizes who that low voice belongs to. He mentally checks himself to make sure his face doesn’t scream “you’re an asshole!” before turning around.
“I, uh. I’m Josh,” he says sheepishly, jogging awkwardly to catch up to Chris. Chris is standing stiff, not sure what to think.
“Yeah, I know,” he replies tightly. As soon as it slips out, he feels his face redden, especially seeing Josh’s puzzled expression in return.
“You know?” Josh asks.
Close up, he’s even better looking than Chris had thought initially. His has full pink lips and huge eyes that make him look like a puppy with his head cocked to the side in confusion. It’s making this encounter way harder than it already is, and Chris is absolutely kicking himself again.
“Y-yeah, I’ve, uh. Heard the professor,” Chris gestures vaguely towards the classroom as he stammers, “you know? Say your name.” Making a slight fool out of himself in a class of 50 people was bad enough, but this one person, this Josh was making him want the floor to open beneath him and swallow him whole. He might be crazy, but he swears his glasses are starting to fog because his face is so hot.
Josh squints at him for a second before his face lights up in realization.
“Oh, yeah! Of course. Duh,” he taps his forehead and waves his hand, laughing awkwardly and a little too hard. He sighs loudly, abruptly cutting himself off. “So…?” Josh looks as him expectantly.
“Chris!” he exclaims when he figures out what Josh is waiting for. He coughs, and repeats “I’m Chris,” more calmly.
“So, Chris,” Josh smiles at him crookedly. “Sorry about that in class. I guess I didn’t think anyone saw my laptop or anything.”
“Oh no, no,” Chris says quickly. “No biggie bro. Just caught me off guard. Pretty funny stuff!” He feels stupid and unsure of himself, wanting this to end despite finding Josh to be a lot nicer and goofier than he’d expected.
“Have you, uh. Have you seen my stuff all semester, then?” Josh asks, crinkling his nose a bit.
“Well, here and there. I mean, it’s just there sometimes, and I see it, but I don’t like. Watch it over your shoulder or anything,” and he knows that sounds like the biggest lie in the world. Likely because it is.
“No worries, man,” Josh says hastily, shaking his head and putting his hand up, “I’d just feel awful if I distracted you!”
You have no idea, Chris thinks, but outwardly smiles.
“Anyways,” Josh continues, “I’ll see you around?”
“Probably on Thursday!” Chris says enthusiastically, pointing finger guns in Josh's direction. He hopes Josh realizes he meant it to sound funny and not that he was creepily excited to see him. Because he totally wasn’t.
“Yeah, I guess so, huh,” the wide grin and slight chuckle Josh gives tells him he took it the right way. “Later, bro,” he says and claps him on the shoulder before walking off.
“Later,” Chris mumbles quietly in response, despite the fact that Josh is long gone.