There he was again.

Every afternoon for this week you and a few of your friends from your Literature courses had been meeting up in this empty classroom. You had an older sister who had taken the same courses to attain her Associates degree in Lit and she had warned you that the lecturer would assign your class the arduous task of performing a play that you had written yourselves. You had forgotten her warning, unfortunately, and had been just as surprised as the other people in the class when the lecturer bounced in on Monday morning beaming like the cat that ate the canary. The sentence assignment had been announced and a singular groan had arisen from the thirty students. You guys were convinced that you were screwed.

Today was Thursday and you were more convinced now than ever before that you and the friends who had gathered around you and declared themselves ready to do whatever you commanded as long as they were allowed to be in your troupe were screwed. Thus far every single meeting had ended with no progress. Your play was nowhere near being finished. Hell, it was nowhere near being begun. You were considering moving to the countryside to grow vegetables on your grandmother’s farm if you guys didn’t come up with something viable soon.

The boy with the dyed brown hair (because really, how many Asians have light brown-almost blonde hair naturally?) had shown up on Tuesday afternoon. He never said anything to you or your posse. He just walked down the gentle slope that led to this particular classroom with his Hello Kitty backpack and sat beneath a tree with his legs crossed and watched you guys. It was a little creepy but you figured he was probably just shy. Your group consisted of five girls and every single one (yourself included) was a looker. There was Aika: the petite stereotypical Japanese student; Mina: the female version of Key; Dominique: the tomboyish American with dark brown hair and eyes; Lisa: the black girl with light skin, naturally blonde hair and grayish eyes; and then you with your great figure and perfect features.  It was easy to assume that the boy came every day because he wanted to talk to one of you but didn’t have the courage to do so.

After a full half hour of brainstorming you were near tears. Everything your group came up with was either not allowed or a total cliché. You toyed with the idea of just giving up and accepting your failing grade with grace. The competitive side of you rebuked that line of thought and you called a break hoping that one of your group members would be able to somehow pull an interesting, original, doable play out of thin air between now and the next ten minutes.  Three of your friends disappeared to go to the bathroom. They were going to mess around with Dominique’s hair against her will in an attempt to make her look just a little less ‘I climb trees’. You knew from past experience that it was not going to end well and you exchanged an eye roll with Lisa before she went off to call her boyfriend.

“Hi.”

The voice startled you out of your leg-tapping train of thought and you turned around to see who had spoken. Your eyes widened. It was Panda Boy – the nickname you had bestowed upon him after Lisa had pointed out the bags beneath his eyes. He was standing in the doorway watching you. You could see his backpack dangling from his hand by one strap.

“Hi,” you replied, motioning for him to come in.

“Lit majors, right?” He hazarded a guess and slid into a seat near the one you were occupying, dropping his bag on the floor and crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Yup,” you nodded and pretended to look at the ground, “and you?”

“Socio, Psych and Computer Sciences,” he said softly.

“Wow. You’re really majoring in all three?” The question gushed out and you clapped a hand over your mouth but it was too late.

“Yeah.” He nodded and leaned back in his chair, his gaze traveling up the white board at the front of the room.

“Why those three though? Why did you choose that combination?” You asked, watching him smile from the corner of your eye.

“Well, I always wanted to understand why people do what they do. That’s where Psych comes in. Society and I have a love/hate kinda relationship and I figured this is my one chance to get to look at the underbelly of the beast so I chose Socio for that. Computer Sciences was a natural last choice because I love computers. I’m always on one or fixing one so yeah.”

I just chose Lit because it’s my forte.” You admitted, “That and I love to read and analyze things.”

“As long as you actually like what you’re doing then it’s not a wrong choice,” Panda Boy smiled, revealing a set of very white even teeth.

“What’s your name?” The question seemed to take him by surprise.  You shrugged. He would get used to this habit you had of just saying/asking whatever was on your mind.

“I’m Lee Seunghyun but my friends call me Seungri,” he introduced himself and nodded his head by way of a bow.

“Kim _____ imnida,” you returned his head bow and smiled. Finally you knew Panda Boy’s actual name.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said. He was getting to his feet and you frowned. It was too soon. “Your friends are coming back. I don’t want to intrude. See you when I see you,” he grabbed his bag and started towards the door.

“See you,” you got to your feet as well and sure enough, your friends were entering the room through one door while he was leaving through another. A piece of white something near the chair he’d been sitting in caught your attention and you bent to pick it up. It was a small folded paper and it had your name on it. You looked up and he was gone. You dropped the paper in your pocket. You’d open it when you were well away from your inquisitive friends.

An hour later you locked the door to your room and dropped your book bag on your bed. You sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the paper. It read: “Mystery Girl – I’ve been watching you for a while. I think you’re really pretty. You seem like a unique individual and I apologize for my creeper tactics. I just couldn’t work up the nerve to come up to you until today. Hopefully you’re reading this right now and you won’t be weirded out or anything by it or me. I just want to get to know you better. Phew! There. I said it. Hey, I just met you and this is crazy but here’s my number so call me, maybe. No, seriously, here’s my number. Call me! But only if you want to. I hope you want to. I’m rambling. Bye. PLEASE CALL ME.