watching her as I got up. By the time I stepped out, most of the class had already gone. Out in the hall, I held my bag over my shoulder as I waited for her to come out—and when she did, her hair was just as blinding as it was inside the classroom.

Standing there, I got a better view of her. She wore a baggy sweater, along with jeans that had such big tears in the legs, her entire knees were practically showing. She was short, too. Maybe five feet tall, no more, which put her almost a whole foot shorter than me. Beneath the clothes that did her body no favors, I could still tell she was small.

Her eyes were on the ground as she exited the classroom, and without so much as a glance in my direction—or anyone else’s—she started walking away.

I trailed after her, catching up to her as she pushed into one of the building’s many stairwells, heading down. Though I walked right beside her, she still didn’t look at me, and I couldn’t tell if she was purposefully ignoring me or so lost in her own head that she didn’t notice I was there. Either way, I was about to bust that wall down.

The moment my foot hit the bottom of the stairwell, I said, “Hey, Pink.” Pink. Not the most creative nickname, but I couldn’t think of anything else, given how ungodly pink her hair was. Seriously. I bet in the sunlight that hair reflected so much light you could go blind if you stared at it too long.

Though I bet she wanted to, she stopped before leaving the stairwell, moving aside to let other students pass as she turned those green eyes up at me. “Are you talking to me?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together, as if she truly could not think of any possible reason why I’d want to speak with her.

I threw a look around. “Anyone else with pink hair nearby?”

Her lips pursed. Once again, unimpressed with my antics.

“I’m Mason,” I said, trying to smooth over the tension between us. Was I annoying her? Did she want to run off and escape without talking to me more? She was always so quiet in class…I didn’t think I’d ever seen her talk to anyone, actually.

She was quiet for a moment, though her eyes did size me up. “What do you want?” Her voice came out quiet, and I could hardly hear her. She looked absolutely uncomfortable.

“I’ll settle for your name today,” I told her, meaning it. I could tell she wasn’t at ease with me, and I didn’t want to push her. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering about her, from picturing those sparkling green eyes looking not so sad.

She looked like she wanted to make like a deer and dart away, run as far away from me as her legs would allow. Still, I blocked her exit from the stairwell, so she had nowhere to run just yet. “Bree,” she finally spoke, giving me her name.

“Well, Bree,” I said, giving her a smile that I hoped put her at ease, “I’ll see you Wednesday.” Sociology was the only class I shared with her, which was probably a good thing. She clearly needed some time away from me, and I needed to take a step back and try to cool myself down. I was getting way ahead of myself here.

I took a step aside, letting her dart away. Bree said nothing to me as she brushed past, leaving without so much as a glance over her shoulder. That didn’t stop me from watching her go, though. My eyes lingered on her, my thoughts too, even after she was gone.

There was something about that girl that I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was kind of silly, I knew, because I’d hardly spoken to her at all, but…I don’t know. Sometimes you just knew that things were only just beginning.

As the day wore on, I found I could not get her out of my mind. I couldn’t focus in my other classes. And, hell, even at night, when I was at work, I couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes and that bright pink hair.

So, during my break, I sat down and looked for her online. Granted, I only had her first name, so finding her took a bit of patience, but I did. The picture in her profile made me almost scan over it, but it was the look on her face that caught me, those same green eyes. She was inactive, never posting anything, and the picture was a few years old.

She didn’t always have pink hair, apparently. Her natural hair was brown.

Still, even in that picture, she didn’t look right. Surrounded by friends, a smile on her face, and yet something inside told me that smile was fake. As the night wore on, I decided that I’d try to get her to really smile, to get those green eyes to light up and those lips to curl in a sincere, genuine grin.

I couldn’t say why I felt so strongly so quickly about this girl, but I did. I knew I couldn’t go back to sitting in my chosen seat in class in the middle towards the front. No, I had to sit beside her and pry back those layers she had positioned to protect herself.

Oh, if there was one thing I was, it was stubborn.

When Wednesday rolled around, I was ready. Ready and eager to see her again. I made it to class before she did, plopping myself down in the same seat I’d taken up when I’d arrived late. I was in the process of pulling out my laptop when someone stood beside me, wanting to squeeze in past me to get to the chair on my left.

I looked up, feeling a smile grow on my face

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