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It was another late-night class—the kind where everyone’s just trying to survive the last hour without dozing off.

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I’m convinced some lecturers pick the driest topics for 8 PM slots just to test us.

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Honestly, if I’d known this class would be such a bore, I might’ve chosen something else.

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I walked in, scanning the room, and yep—she was there. Jasmine.

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This time, I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t just going to sneak glances like some awkward guy in the corner.

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She was sitting in her usual spot near the back, legs crossed, head slightly tilted over her phone.

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Her outfit today? A black tee that clung just a bit tighter than last time, paired with the same worn white sneakers and high-waisted jeans. That laid-back, cool girl energy? Still there—and it was doing something to me.

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I took a seat a row in front of her and tried to focus, but my attention kept drifting. Something about her presence pulled me in—the way her hair always seemed a little messy but somehow perfect, the way she tapped her pen absentmindedly, like she was always in her own world.

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Then, it happened.

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I felt her gaze. She caught me staring.

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I turned away quickly, pretending to jot something down on my notes, though I hadn’t written anything useful all evening.

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During the mid-class break, I decided to stop chickening out.

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I made my way over to the coffee machine at the back. My heart was racing, not that I’d admit it. I was halfway pouring myself a cup when I sensed someone step beside me.

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“Is that the only thing keeping you awake?”

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Her voice—Jasmine’s—cut through the hum of the machine. Smooth, amused, just a touch of teasing.

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I turned, surprised but trying to play it cool. “Yup. Pretty much the only thing standing between me and a full-on nap.”

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She gave a small laugh, the kind that made me want to hear more.

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“This lecture’s dry.”

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I chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, like Sahara dry.”

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For a second, we both stood there in a comfortable silence, the coffee slowly dripping.

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It felt easy, natural—but I was still scrambling for something clever to say.

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“You’re new?” she asked, eyes flicking toward me but still casual.

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I shook my head. “Been around, just… maybe not on your radar.”

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That got the smallest smile out of her.

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She picked up her coffee, took a sip, and turned back toward her seat.

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Just before walking off, she threw a casual,

 

“Catch you later.”

And just like that, she was gone again.

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Back in my room later that night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan lazily spinning above me.

Yeah, there was no way I was forgetting her anytime soon.

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Messy bun girl. Jasmine.

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And something told me this wouldn’t be our last conversation.