Heartstrings

Chapter 1 Tuesday I retrieved my phone from my backpack and scrolled through my messages. Still no new ones. Slipping it back into my bag, I gazed into the depths of my coffee cup. He had expressed missing me, prompting my early visit to campus to surprise him. Yet, despite two unanswered calls, he remained elusive. Regret tinged my thoughts; perhaps I shouldn't have made that second call. Now, sitting in his preferred coffee haunt, I hoped for a chance encounter. Fortunately, Melissa, my roommate, had arrived the day before, sparing me the solitude of our dorm. We ventured to Main Street despite the rain, purchasing our books and indulging in a day-long catch-up session from our summer hiatus. Our grievances about our minimum wage retail jobs provided ample conversation. It was Melissa's idea for me to seize an early coffee here, in the hopes of encountering him. She even assisted with my morning grooming. Yet, he was nowhere to be seen, leaving me feeling akin to a stalker. My phone buzzed, sparking hope. Hastily, I checked the message icon, only to find it was my alarm, signalling the imminent start of my first class. I had to traverse the campus promptly. Zipping my backpack shut, I hoisted it over my shoulder and prepared to depart. The coffee shop bustled with activity; evidently, none of the other students were accustomed to early awakenings either. Caffeine was a coveted commodity. Juggling my umbrella and coffee cup, I navigated through the throng of patrons. The floor near the exit was slick from the rain, and though Melissa had advised against it, I was grateful for my choice of rain boots as my feet slid slightly on the linoleum. Regaining my balance, a sudden intrusion disrupted my trajectory. Someone burst into the coffee shop, causing the door to collide with my cup, sending coffee splattering onto my shirt. As I teetered precariously, two firm hands grasped me, steadying my stance. “I'm terribly sorry. Are you alright?” inquired a deep voice. “I'm fine,” I replied, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground. “It wasn't hot anymore.” I omitted the fact that it was now cold, having lingered in the coffee shop for half an hour, resembling a deranged stalker. His hands retreated from my waist. “I fear I've ruined your shirt.” Examining the brown coffee stains adorning my blue tank top, I sighed. “Oh, bother. I have an 8 a.m. I don't have time to change.” I lamented my decision to bring an umbrella instead of wearing a coat to shield myself from the rain. “Here,” he offered, setting down his satchel and removing his gray sweater. As he peeled it off, the white dress shirt beneath lifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of his abs. I permitted my gaze to wander to his face; he appeared as if he had stepped from the pages of a magazine. An air of maturity suggested he might be a graduate student. Dark brown, rain-soaked hair stood in disarray, giving him a casual allure. His chiseled jawline and dimpled cheeks enhanced his appeal. Deep brown eyes bore into mine with intensity, quickening my heartbeat. He handed me his sweater. “That's alright. I can't accept that,” I chuckled nervously. “I'll manage.” I sidestepped, allowing him passage, feeling the warmth of a blush spreading across my cheeks. “I insist,” he persisted, a faint smile gracing his lips. “First day of classes,” he shrugged. “You'll want to make a good first impression.” Reluctantly, I accepted the sweater. “Thank you,” I murmured, pulling it over my head. Though oversized, it enveloped me in comfort. The scent of a sweet cologne wafted from the fabric, momentarily disorienting me. Aware of my prolonged stare, I stammered, “I'm sorry, I must go. I'll be late.” His striking presence rendered me more awkward than usual. His lips parted, as if to speak, but then closed again. I offered a grateful smile and exited the coffee shop. As I hurried towards my class, I couldn't shake the feeling of looking absurd—swathed in a baggy sweater, leggings, and bright red rain boots. I must resemble a child. Yet, despite my unconventional attire, I was thankful. Coffee stains on my attire would have been far worse than a baggy sweater. Melissa would undoubtedly relish this anecdote.