A. Jackson - When We Met

After I pulled into a space, I turned to look at her and winked. “It’s hard to forget an awesome name like that.”

She blushed harder, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Her green eyes went wide. “Oh my God. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

Of course you haven’t, I thought sarcastically. Taking my keys out of the ignition, I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, I guess there is.” She gave me a strange look and huffed a soft laugh. “I just had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Have you ever had that?”

“Every week,” I muttered. “What do you say we go get this bullshit test out of the way?”

“Tell me about—wait. We?”

“Yeah. We. We have the same class, Indy.”

Her face fell. “Where have I been?”

I got out of the SUV and shook my head. “I ask myself that all the time.”

She rushed around the back to join me, her face pinched together in confusion. “Wait, how did I not know this?”

I shrugged and started walking with her at my side. It felt weird. Instinctively I wanted to pull her up into my arms and carry her, but this was different. She wasn’t wasted, she wasn’t about to forget this conversation, and she wasn’t trying to feed me bread. This was normal—just her. For the first time in the year since the girls moved into the house next to us, she was trying to have a conversation with me—sober.

“It’s a big class. It’s not hard to miss someone.”

“But we’re neighbors,” she argued, and then muttered to herself, “Well, I guess this goes back to the whole us-never-talking thing.”

“I’m talking to you now.”

She looked up at me with a smile on her face, her green eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure me out. “That you are.”

We walked in silence the rest of the way to the lecture hall, but every minute or so I’d catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye—that same curious expression on her beautiful face.

Grabbing the door, I opened it and held it for her as she walked in, but she paused in the doorway. She stared straight ahead for a few seconds before turning to look at me, her mouth open like she was going to say something. But instead she closed her mouth without speaking and her eyebrows bunched together again.

With a slight shake of her head, she exhaled audibly and shrugged. “Good luck, Kier.”

“You, too.”

I watched her turn and walk into the room, walking toward the middle where she usually sat with a group of girls. I went to my normal spot in the back left corner and sank into my seat as I pulled out my phone, waiting for when the professor would come in.

My thumb paused on the screen of my phone when a bag was dropped a couple of chairs down, followed by a long leg stretching over the back of the row of chairs. Long red hair shielded her face as she hopped over and plopped down into the seat next to mine. Brushing her hair away from her face, she glanced at me, a small smile playing at her lips before she stared straight ahead.

She didn’t say anything, and neither did I. Because not only had the professor just walked in and already begun passing out Scantrons, but there was nothing to say in that moment. I fought back my own smile.

Indy was coming to me sober.

Indy

I stepped back as one of my housemates, Chloe, ran through the house to leave for work, and called out a good-bye before I heard the door shut. Walking through the kitchen, I pulled my thick hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and grabbed a soda before joining Misha and my third housemate, Courtney, in the living room.

Neither was talking. The TV was on a music channel, but it was turned down low as they both did homework. I knew I needed to finish this paper, but I couldn’t concentrate on it . . . All I could think about was Kier and how weird it had been to talk to him today. How I’d felt like I’d known him—how every time he spoke, I had the craziest sense of déjà vu . . . like we’d already had that same conversation before. But that was ridiculous; he never talked to anyone, including me. He was absurdly quiet. Not just in comparison to the other guys next door, but compared to anyone.

With a huff, I tried to push thoughts of him out of my mind and pulled my laptop onto my crossed legs, determined to finish this stupid paper. Twenty minutes later, I had written the word the and was staring blankly at the screen . . . only seeing a pair of honey-gold eyes, a too-perfect smile, and black, messy hair.

“Misha,” I whispered. Why I was whispering, I had no clue.

“Hmm?” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in my direction but didn’t look up from her laptop.

“Misha,” I repeated, this time harder.

She looked up at me this time. “Yeah?”

“What do you know about Kier?”

Both eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything.

“Kier—neighbor, Kier—lives with Darryn. Really quiet, doesn’t ever talk.”

“I know who he is. He’s actually really nice. I’m just surprised you know him.”

I sat back against the couch and made a face. “Why?”

“Because—well, because like you said. He doesn’t talk.”

“But you just said he’s really nice. Which means you’ve talked to him.”

She shrugged and looked back at her laptop. “Only a couple times, and it was just a few words. I think I only heard him talk because I was sitting there with Darryn.” Her dark eyes flickered over to me. “Why are you asking about him?”

“He drove me to class today. Apparently we have a class together and I had no idea. And he didn’t talk a lot, but he talked. It was weird. Nice, but weird.” When I looked up, Misha was just staring at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me weird. It’s not nothing. Is there something about him I should know? Is he a creeper or something?”

Misha laughed softly. “I doubt he would be living with the guys if he were. From what Darryn says, he just doesn’t talk a lot.”

“Do you know why? Because he doesn’t seem shy.” And why was I so interested in knowing about Kier all of a sudden?

She shook her head and looked back down at her laptop. “Not shy. Just isn’t one for talking, that’s what I know.” Her fingers began moving over the keys again, and my shoulders sagged in defeat.

I wanted to know why he was so cryptic, and why I felt like I knew him and could trust him when I hadn’t said more than five words to him before this afternoon. I wanted to know why he gave me little, knowing smiles like I was missing some private joke that I was supposed to be in on.

None of it made sense. He didn’t make sense. But for the life of me I wanted to make sense out of what was pulling me to him.

My feet pounded rhythmically against the concrete, and my breath came out in puffs of little clouds in front of me as I pushed to finish the last bit of my run the next morning. I’d barely slept last night as I went over every detail of every word that had passed Kier’s lips, and I was paying for it this morning. Even cutting half a mile off my normal distance, I felt like I had tried to run double what I normally did.

Three more blocks . . . three more blocks, I chanted to myself. Two more. Even the music blaring through my earbuds couldn’t pump me up enough to finish hard. I didn’t even know what song was playing as I tried not to collapse. Just then, my eyes caught the paper tucked under my windshield wipers, and I stopped running.

Looking around the empty street as I walked over to my car, I had one of those flashes. Like I was about to be in a bad horror movie, and people were screaming, “Don’t go over there! Run away!”