Attempt #1: You


You’re a little bit funny. You’re kind of cute. I don’t know who you are, but let me tell you, you’ve got my heart.


In a room filled with fatigued, keen, bored or focused students, you’re bound to find someone that you can’t take your eyes off of, and by instinct, I find him. My eyes have zoned in on him and I can’t help but keep watch on him for months. It’s not that I don’t concentrate in class. It’s not that I’m a loner. Okay, I am partly one, but that’s not the whole story here. It’s just that my eyes wander in his direction. Every time I have my geography class, I’m scanning the room for his presence.


I know it’s not like him to miss class. He’s the type that goes to every class, and to arrive at class at least twenty minutes beforehand. I know because we’ve both been waiting together before. We even shared a bench together! He was just several centimetres away from me. It just so happens that we never speak and that he probably has no idea that I’ve been observing him for so long that I feel like a stalker.

I don’t even know his name, yet I know where he lives. Why? He coincidentally goes home the same way as I do and lives in the same building as me. I have followed him home because I am on my way home. I’m sure he thinks I’m a creep. Several times, he turns back just so slightly to see who’s tailing behind him. He walks so fast that I almost have to jog to keep up with him. Still, I keep my distance and don’t dare to walk side by side. By the time, he unlocks the front door with his key, he’s about to close it, but he has taken a glance in my direction. He probably heard the sound of my running. I gasp in an exasperated voice, “Wait! Wait!”

He holds the door until I support it with my body. Before I can even thank him, he’s already gone. I know he lives on the first floor, but I don’t even notice which side he turns. After all, I am exhausted from chasing after him. He’s like a ninja. In fact, I think I’d just call him Mr. Ninja.

I sound pathetic. I really do. I don’t even understand why I’m behaving like this. I don’t think this is love at first sight. There’s just something about him that fascinates me. Maybe, it’s because he looks like those models in editorials with his great facial bone structure and spiked hair. That might be what initially caught my attention, but I don’t think that’s all. There’s more to him than that.

I realize that he sits alone almost all the time. He moves around for a seat that he thinks is okay for that class. He doesn’t have a laptop and still sticks with the traditional way of note taking. He’s not the type to jot down everything the professor says. Instead, he chooses only to write down the important notes. I even glimpse at him to see if I should take note of what the professor is lecturing. Somehow, knowing that he’s scribbling the same remark as me is reassuring. He’s hardworking. I often see him previewing the lecture before class starts and annotating on the side.

He’s a bit crazy . . . like me. On a snowy day, he orders the tallest iced cappuccino; I do that often on cold days. That brings a smile to me. He’s even crazier than me, I think, because he doesn’t need a winter jacket when it’s clearly snowing so very heavily. He’s perfectly fine with a hoodie, a leather jacket and a pair of black Lacoste sneakers. He doesn’t even wear gloves or scarves. He must be insane.

What else?

He’s tall, very tall that he has to stretch his legs out so that they don’t crash against the small lecture table. He sits in this odd way, where his legs are widely parted and sometimes there’s a backpack between his feet. Most of the time, he places the backpack beside him on a seat just like I do. I don’t like my bag on the ground. 

Oh, he never smiles, or he rarely smiles. Even when the professor is telling a funny story, he suppresses his smile and covers his teeth with his palm. Still, I manage to see his lips part to reveal a set of white, pearly teeth. Cute, I think.

I think I’m losing my mind here because I tend to see him a lot on campus. During a group meeting, I happen to see him at a table directly ahead of me. Even without my glasses, I can recognize him. He’s eating two or three pizzas alone while reading his notebook. I do that too: review and eat at the cafeteria. Once he has finished, he packs up so quickly, and he’s gone . . . like a ninja. At least now I think he has class on Fridays that end at around three in the afternoon.

I’m thinking I should do something about this. I want to know who he is. I want to hear his voice. However, I have no idea how to approach him. Should I ask him if he lives in that building? Oh, he’d think I’m the weirdest girl ever; he’d think I’m a major stalker. Should I drop a pen in front of him then? Maybe, he’ll pick it up. Then what? After I thank him, that would be all unless I keep dropping pens. That’s really annoying though.  Should I just introduce myself? It’s not even the beginning of term. I’m already months late for that. Should I purposely go to the first floor and act like I live there? No, that’s stupid! He should know his neighbours by now.

Then, eureka! I have the best idea ever!

I’m going to question him for my project’s survey, one that I will create for this. I need this survey anyways. Okay, maybe I am very foolish. I’m being irrational, but I should do something right? He’d never know me if I don’t, and I’d never know his name. I don’t want to tell my kids that in college, I was intrigued by someone I called Mr. Ninja.

And I still have to thank him for holding that door for me. I doubt he even remembers.

Oh gosh, why am I such an awkward turtle? Why am I so socially challenged?

So here goes nothing, Mr. Ninja.

I have the best battle plan ever, and you are not going to be able to conquer me.
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