Mine and Joseph’s entire relationship could be distilled into how we rode the elevator together.
I remember my first day of university, and that I was an overwhelmed hot mess. Walking into my last class, I was desperate to get things on track. Despite being almost ten minutes early for my English 101 class, there were a lot of students in the auditorium seats already. Small groups chatting together in scattered locations of the large room.
In the back corner, a dark-haired boy in glasses was reading a massive tome, aloof from the idle chatter in the room. He looked diligent. He looked focused. He looked pretty cute. I needed to ask a question and, for some reason, interrupting his reading seemed less intimidating than stopping the ongoing conversations.
I made my way back to the desk that was next to his and quietly slid into the seat. He didn’t move or adjust to my presence, he just ignored me and kept reading. Maybe I was better off interrupting someone else. However, I noticed the book he was reading was not the one I had for this class, and it caused my fears to grow. Better to find out if I was in the wrong spot sooner rather than later.
“Excuse me,” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.
“What?” He responded without looking up from the book he was buried in. A little rude, but after I had asked my simple question I would leave him in peace.
“Can you tell me if I’m in the right place?”
He drew his eyebrows together and he looked up at me for the first time. My impression of rudeness from how he reacted to my interruption melted away when I saw his eyes. Framed by glasses, his hazel eyes were thoughtful and inquisitive, possibly curious as to who had interrupted him. Once he looked at me, the demands of social interaction seemed to spring on him, and his demeanor softened.
“That depends,” he said with a playful smile, “where do you need to be?”
“English 101 with Professor Jung,” I said, but continued without letting him answer, “I accidentally sat through the wrong lecture for my second class. I was in the right room number but in the wrong building, so I want to make sure I’m where I need to be before this class begins. I’m just struggling to get my life together today it seems.”
He nodded at my rambling explanation, unperturbed by the onslaught. It was common for people to mix up things the first week of school, but why couldn’t I shut up?
“Don’t worry,” he said in a relaxed voice, “You are exactly where you need to be.”
A small bit of color spread on his cheeks. He closed the book he had been reading and turned toward me. “It looks like we’re classmates. My name is Joseph.”
“I’m Tiffany,” I said with too much perk in my voice, “Are you a freshman, too?”
“No,” he chuckled, “I’m a junior, but I’m retaking this class for a better grade before I apply to some law programs.”
“Oh! So, you probably know your way around campus really well. Can you tell me where the study hall is from here? I was going to head there to get a jump on my assigned reading, since this is my last class of the day.”
He crinkled his nose at my question, “The study hall is an unofficial social spot. Hard to get reading done there, it’s better for group projects. I prefer to read in the library. I could show you how to get there after class.”
“That would be wonderful!” I gushed, and he shyly turned away from my enthusiasm.
Once class was over, we went to the library and took the elevator to the fourth floor. We stood against opposite sides, facing each other with the empty elevator between us. That space was filled with easy flowing conversation as he gave me all the details on quiet spots to study, the best computer labs on campus, and the quickest routes between my classes.
That was the beginning of our friendship.
For a few weeks, we would go to the library together to study for an hour or so before heading our separate ways.
One day, as we were leaving, the elevator stopped on the third floor and three large football players got on the elevator with us. They filled the gap between Joseph and I, ceasing our conversation immediately.
The football player that stood next to me ‘accidentally’ stumbled, pressing me against the wall. He apologized but didn’t move to give me space and began to chat me up the rest of the ride. As we exited, he started walking with me. I stopped so that he would continue without me, but he also stopped, waving at his two teammates to go on without him.
“Can I walk you to your car?” he had asked, with obvious interest in his eyes.
“Uhhh—” he was an attractive guy, but I just felt weird about the whole situation, “I live on campus, so I don’t need to go to my car.”
“Oh,” he said, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “Can I walk you home then?”
I froze at his question because I wasn’t comfortable with a stranger knowing where I lived. However, rejecting large men could come with unintended consequences and being tactful about it was important.
“Hey Tiffy!” Joseph called. He was a few feet away, rummaging through his backpack, “I can’t find the book I borrowed in my bag. I must have left it in my car. Do you need it tonight? Or do you want me to bring it to class tomorrow?”
Relief flooded me at the opportunity he provided. “Yeah, I do need it for homework tonight. I will snag it from your car.”
I looked back at the attractive, pushy football player and shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry, maybe another time?”
The guy got my phone number and called my phone before he left. While it could have felt awkward, Joseph waited politely and then wished the guy good luck at the game that was happening that weekend. The situation felt diffused and safe thanks to Joseph’s gentle redirection.
“You need to learn how to just say no, Tiffy,” he chided, as we walked away.
“I don’t think you understand that there are often risks with open rejection,” I mumbled defensively, “Telling guys no can be scary.”
We walked in silence after that. Once we reached Joseph’s car, he handed me a paperback book, even though the excuse had been a ruse. It was an old fantasy series that I had already read before, and we proceeded to discuss the story together for an hour before I went back to my dorm.
Even though I had read it, I still took the paperback with me.
After that day, Joseph started standing against the same wall as me in the elevator. We still had a respectable gap between us, but no one could interrupt our conversation anymore.
He brought me a medium black coffee every morning. We studied together, ate lunch together, he walked me to classes, and I walked him to his car on my way to my dormitory. In all the time we were around each other, he never flirted with me. At least, not like the guys who approached me to ask me out on dates, which did happen more often than I expected.
Over the course of the year, the gap between us on the elevator shrunk. The distance disappearing a millimeter at a time.
During my first finals week, I had pulled an all-nighter to study and inadvertently dozed off when I leaned against the wall of the elevator. It was a brief moment, but when my eyes opened, I was leaning against Joseph’s arm for support.
He gave me his hoodie to use as a pillow to nap while he studied that day, and the smell of his cologne on it took up permanent residence in my memory as I slept.
After that, we stood shoulder to shoulder in the corner, heads leaning towards one another as our conversation carried us up to the top floor. Well, more like shoulder to tricep, as my height required him to crane down low to maintain a respectful whisper. People on the elevator always seemed annoyed that we didn’t stop talking, especially the staff that I had come to recognize throughout the year.
That summer semester, I enrolled in two classes. Joseph wasn’t taking any classes since his law program at the neighboring university started that fall. He still showed up to campus to see me every day. His reasons for being there were flimsy at best, but I honestly didn’t mind. Not seeing each other at school during my sophomore year would be weird.
After my class was done, he would be waiting for me, and we would head over to the library. Except, for some reason, he started riding the elevator differently.
Instead of sharing the corner with me, he stood directly in front of me, leaning against the wall. Physically he was further away, but it was oddly more intimate this way.
As my back leaned against the elevator wall, I would look up at his face. The angle made his strong jaw line incredibly appealing, and as he looked down at me, the moment felt jarringly familiar. It felt like the end of a dozen dates I had been on. Dates where guys that I had mostly neutral feelings for would look down at me, just like he was, and then kiss me.
This was when I realized that I did not have neutral feelings for Joseph. Because—
I wanted him to kiss me.
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