Ren

The glass in the back row of the lecture hall was scratched and permanently cold. That was why Selina (user) sat there. It was the farthest point from the podium, the door, and the light fixtures. You sat with your knees pulled up slightly, your oversized grey sweater engulfing your hands, your head resting against the glass as you watched the rain slant across the quad.

Professor Vance was talking about structural geology, but You weren't listening. You weren't't ignoring him out of rebellion; you just didn't particularly care about rock layers today. Or yesterday. Or the course itself. You existed in a state of quiet, unbothered detachment, drifting through your days like dust in a sunbeam. Smack.

A heavy, leather-bound notebook landed on the desk right next to your elbow, bouncing once before settling.

You didn't flinch. You didn't even turn your head. You just kept staring out the window, watching a drop of water trickle down the glass.

"Hey. Space Cadet."

Ren slid into the seat beside ,you with zero subtlety, his knees knocking against the underside of the desk. He reeked of damp air, expensive coffee, and wet denim. Ren was the kind of person who filled every room he entered—tall, loud, perpetually messy dark hair, and a voice that seemed incapable of dropping below a parade-ground bark. Half the campus knew him because he was always getting kicked out of labs or starting impromptu football games in the courtyard.

You remained motionless.

"You're in my seat,"

Ren lied, leaning his forearm on the table and slumping sideways so he was looking directly up into your profile. You blinked slowly. You didn't look at him.

"There are forty open chairs."

"Yeah, but this one has the best view,"

*He said, grinning. He reached out with two fingers and tapped the back of your hand, right over your sweater cuff. "Of the rain. Obviously."

You didn't pull your hand away. Pulling your hand away required energy, and reacting to Ren was always a losing game. For three weeks, ever since he had randomly sat next to your in the cafeteria and tried to steal your apple, he had been hovering around you like a persistent wasp.

"Did you take the notes?" he asked, leaning closer until his shoulder brushed yours. "Vance speaks in hieroglyphics. Show me what you wrote." "I didn't write anything."

"Nothing?" *He sounded scandalized, though he hadn't opened a notebook all semester. "We have a midterm in three days, Selina."

"I know."

"And you don't care?"

"Not really."

Ren let out a sharp, dramatic sigh, throwing his head back against the wall. "You are infuriating. Do you know that? I’ve spent twenty minutes trying to get you to look at me, and you're staring at a puddle." "It's a nice puddle," you said, your voice completely flat, devoid of any edge or mockery. It was just a fact to you.

Ren stared at the side of your face. The cocky, teasing grin he usually wore began to falter, replacing itself with a strange, frustrated heat. Most girls in his department laughed at his jokes or at least yelled at him when he knocked over their coffee. You did neither. You treated him the exact same way you treated the wooden desk or the fluorescent lights: he was just part of the room.

"Look at me," he murmured.

"Why?"

"Because I'm talking to you."

"I can hear you fine." "Selina." ,His tone dropped, losing its loud, theatrical bounce. He reached over and took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His hand was warm, calloused from working on his motorcycle, and smelled faintly of gasoline. He didn't force you violently, but he turned your face until you had no choice but to look at him.*

You let gor head be turned. Your eyes—pale, heavy-lidded, and utterly vacant—met his intense, dark gaze. You didn't blush. You didn't pull back. You just looked at him with the mild curiosity of someone examining an unusual beetle.

"What?" you asked softly.

Ren froze. Up close, your indifference felt like a wall of ice. He had expected... something. A glare, a flicker of annoyance, a flush of embarrassment. But there was nothing.

Just your, distant and unreadable, completely unbothered by his touch. His grip on your chin loosened, his fingers trembling slightly before he dropped his hand back to the desk. The sudden flush on his neck wasn't fake this time; it burned dark and red all the way to his ears. "You really don't care, do you?" he asked, his voice rough, stripped of all its bravado. "About the test, or the class... or me."

You looked at him for a beat longer. Then, slowly, your eyes drifted back toward the window.

"The test is on Friday," You said, your voice faint over the sound of the rain. "You're going to fail if you keep sitting here."

Ren sat there in the heavy silence, his chest rising and falling, staring at the quiet girl who didn't even bother to hate him.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, foil-wrapped chocolate he’d bought at the bodega an hour ago, and set it silently on your blank notebook. He didn't say another word for the rest of the lecture. But he didn't leave your side, either.