POV: Oliver 

Manny banged on my door as rhythmically as she possibly could, probably to make the chore slightly more enjoyable.

“Olly, get up already! You don’t even have to take me anymore so you better not be late.”

I opened my eyes to slivers of sunshine making their way through my blinds. I reach around in my sheets to find my phone. I read the time and was immediately awake.

Oh shit.

I jumped from my bed and grabbed a random pair of jeans and t shirt from the pile of clean laundry on my chair. Mom was already in front of the kettle making everyone their morning cup of coffee.

“Hey, can you make me a to go cup to, please?” I said while grabbing a bowl of Cap’n Crunch.

She chuckled a little to herself, but I was sure that she intended for me to hear it. “Sure, but you really should start setting an alarm. You aren’t in high school anymore.”

“I know, I know. But don’t college professors not even check attendance?”

“That’s no reason to be late on your first day,” she said as the kettle clicked to signal that it was done. She scooped brown powder into two thermos and poured water into both.

I finished breakfast and nearly whacked Manny as I turned around. She’s so small that sometimes I don’t even see her. It’s hard to believe that she’s a junior in high school since she hasn’t grown in like five years.

“Hey watch it!” she yelled before grabbing the car keys that hung by the door. “See you, Mom. Bye Olly,” she finished with a mocking tone.

Mom rolled her eyes before grabbing her own keys and heading out with a simple goodbye thrown over her shoulder.

Morning rituals were out the window as I just brushed my teeth and attempted to calm the rat’s nest on my head. It was a futile battle. For sure, a hat day.

____________________________________

The fact that I had no clue where I was going didn’t help my late situation. The maze of hurried students and confusing signs mixed with bike lanes only made the impending doom of being late on my first day more of a reality. Sure, this is my third semester, but the nerves are still there.

The brakes screeched a little as I stopped at the traffic light. There was a long line of nearly late students behind me, waiting anxiously for the glimmer of hope known as the green light. I glanced down to the digital numbers flashing below the radio. 8:58 AM. Shit.

I had 17 minutes. Tops, unless the prof was late.

What were the chances of that?

I circled around the parking garage three times, slowed by the constant stream of rushing students and faculty. I tapped my fingers against the wheel to the beat of my old 90’s rock song playlist.

I finally found a spot on the other side of the parking garage.

Five minutes to go.

I was bolting.

I sailed down the rickety old cement stairs and dashed through the manicured lawns to one of the many lecture halls that dot the campus. I managed to step into the rear entrance of the hall just as the bell tower tolled. I sighed and descended the shallow steps that lined the edges of the hall. A head of dirty blonde hair stuck out from the monotonous crowd of quieting students.

I didn’t really know him, but I didn’t see any friends there.

I took the empty seat next to him. He was listening to something through his earphones. I didn’t want to disturb him. Instead, I pulled out my new notebook and pencil from my backpack.

The professor got off his chair and stepped in front of the long table that dominated the front of the room. He leaned against the black tabletop with arms confidently across his chest. He seemed so much younger than he really was with the tight jeans, patterned button-down, and slightly messy hair. His thick frames really gave him an older Clark Kent feel, if Superman was Indian that is.

“Alright class,” he said with authority. The class quickly went quiet. “Welcome to Development of the Modern World. Right now, my TA’s will be passing out the syllabus. Be sure to actually look it over, but for now, I’ll just recite the important bits.” He turned to his laptop and pulled a copy of the syllabus onto the projector that shone high above him.

He went over the usual niceties and protocols as well as his office hours. I zone out for the majority of it but tuned back in when he got to the term project. He went into little detail about it, but he said enough for me to already dread it. We had to present some major development in recent history and their impact on today. Nothing too hard. The kicker is that we have to do it in pairs. I groaned as I process that last detail.

I played with the curls around the back of my neck as I thought about the despair that often accompanied these sorts of assignments. There were too many times in high school where group projects got turned into solo ones. At least I always got the highest grade in the group. Thank God for feedback sheets, but group projects were still the worse.

Everyone quickly turned to neighbors and their phones looking for partners. I’m sure everyone will just wait until the last minute to actually do this thing, but the professor was making us pair up then. I guess that’s smart? Who knows?

I glanced over at him. What was his name again? Daniel? He seemed okay enough. There was no one to the other side of me anyway.

I tapped his shoulder.

He put down his highlighter and turned to me.

“Want to partner?” I said.

He looked to the side before shrugging.

Daniel 

He sat next to me. I wonder why? Maybe it was a convenience thing or just a familiar face? I was just going to be chill. I continued listening to my favorite playlist full of 80’s rock, the kind with musicians covered in heavy makeup.

I just read the syllabus without really registering what the Professor was saying.

I felt a poke in my shoulder. It was him. I turned to him and looked him straight in the eye.

He had such pretty eyes.

I kept a close watch on his milk chocolate eyes as he asked to be partners. I shrug without really thinking much about it. He seemed nice enough and he held down a job so he must be relatively reliable, right? I just hoped to not regret that decision later. I doubted that bio nor ochem were going to be kind that semester.

I read over the assignment details again as the professor said that he’ll put up examples of acceptable topics online. It didn’t look too bad, just a pain.

He let us out early without a hitch. As I packed away my things, he tapped me again.

“Do you want to exchange numbers?” he said while holding out his phone with its beaten up case. Come to think of it, I didn’t really remember his name.

Don’t make a fool of yourself, okay? That’s all I wanted.

I took his phone and entered my name and number before looking at my own. “Oh, shoot, I’m late for an appointment. Just text me with your name.” I said while grabbing my bag. He gave me a smile and thumbs up while sitting back in his seat, letting me pass by.

I exited the hall through the side entrance, painfully aware of how much I was touching my phone. I felt a strange pull in my gut as my phone vibrated. I pulled it out to find his text.

Oliver.

So that was his name.

It was such an old name, not what I expected from a kid in tight jeans and a V-neck. I add his contact to my phone and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

The first days were always pretty boring. You’re stuffed into a room of nearly complete strangers to be talked at by some usually old person about a subject you most likely will never think about ever again. But you still listened along to the same rules that have been put in place in every classroom since forever except with a few extra t’s to cross like term papers and office hours.

I headed home as soon as my last class let out. Who said that math in the early evening was a good idea? I’m going to suffer for this class.

I hopped onto the bus and rode the two stops to the train station where Dad’s old pickup rested. I climbed in and turn on the aux for my phone so that I could continue listening to strained vocals and guitar solos. My stereo cut out as I approached the house.

As I turned the corner, I found the driveway empty. Tonight was going to be quiet, as per usual. I headed inside and dumped all my school things in my room upstairs before heading down to the kitchen to fill the kettle. The electric kettle hissed as I gathered the necessary books and supplies to bring downstairs to my favorite working space. I poured my tea and headed to the back patio with a precarious pile in one arm and piping hot liquid in my free hand. The balancing act ended as I reach the black metal chair and table set that occupies the corner of the yard. I worked on biology first. The material was a cinch but the amount of work was a bitch. I quickly went through the required reading before reaching for my phone to see the professor’s post.

The recommended list was long if a bit vague. The plethora of topics was dizzying. I really didn’t want to be the one to choose this. What if I picked the hardest or most boring one?

I took a screenshot of the list and texted it to Oliver.