Date: April 22, 2025

Author: Jake W. Simmons

University was a strange time for me. I was trying to figure things out—what I wanted, who I wanted to be, and who I wanted to be with. I wasn’t the most outgoing guy. I had a couple of close friends, but other than that, I kept to myself. That’s when I started seeing her.

She wasn’t the typical “college beauty,” but there was something magnetic about her. She wasn’t thin or traditionally glamorous, but she had this aura—an energy about her that made her stand out. We’d pass by each other in the library sometimes. She’d be sitting at a table alone or with a friend, usually reading or scrolling through her phone. Every now and then, she’d glance up at me, and I could feel this odd pull in the air, like she was studying me as much as I was studying her.

We never really spoke at first. I would sit at my usual spot, in a corner by the window, buried in textbooks or assignments, trying to get through the grind of it all. But one night, things changed.

It was late—way past midnight, and the library was pretty much deserted. I had stayed late studying for exams. The hum of fluorescent lights was the only sound in the room. I was sitting at my desk, nose in my books, when I noticed her walking toward the back of the library, where the study hall was. She wasn’t carrying any books or papers, just a bottle of water. I didn’t think much of it at first.

Then she stopped. She stood next to me and said something I didn’t expect at all.

“So, how big are you?” she asked, her tone playful, a grin on her face.

I was caught off guard, unsure if I heard her right. It felt like a joke, but something in her eyes made me unsure whether she was serious or just messing with me. In a split second, without thinking, I unzipped my bag and pulled out the only thing I had on hand—my phone.

“Big enough to answer your question,” I said, my voice cracking, unsure if I was being flirty or just awkward. She laughed, a soft, almost teasing sound, then looked away, flushed. She quickly walked off, glancing back once or twice.

That night, I didn’t think much more about it. It felt like a weird interaction, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. I figured I’d never see her again.

But then, over the next few weeks, I started noticing her more. We’d cross paths on campus, and she’d always seem to look at me from a distance. Sometimes, she’d smile. Other times, she’d just watch, like she was sizing me up. There was something about it that felt strange, like she was trying to gauge my reactions to her presence.

I saw her with her boyfriend around campus, too. They seemed happy—holding hands, laughing, looking like any other couple on a campus where everyone seemed to be pairing off. But every now and then, she’d glance in my direction, and for a split second, I’d catch her eye.

Fast forward a few months, and it was finals week. I had my head buried in books, cramming for the last stretch before the semester ended. That night, I sat down at a table in the library, just trying to focus. But then I saw her. She came in, looking slightly tired but determined. She didn’t notice me at first.

She sat down a few chairs over, and for a while, we just worked in silence. I wasn’t sure if she had seen me yet, but after about 45 minutes, she stood up and came over. She sat down next to me, and for the first time, she actually spoke to me like we were friends.

“I feel safe here,” she said, her voice soft. She leaned back in her chair, looking out the window at the campus lights.

I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what she meant, but something about it felt intimate, like she was trusting me with some secret.

Then, after a pause, she asked if I would “treat her to a showing again.” I couldn’t quite understand what she meant, but the words stuck in my head. Was she referring to the night in the library? What exactly was she asking for?

The whole situation was strange—like we were in some unspoken dance, unsure of whether we were friends, strangers, or something else entirely. I didn’t know what to do with the information I had or how to interpret her actions. I just knew that every time I saw her, I felt like I was in the middle of some unfinished story.

And so, I’m left wondering: What did she really want from me? What was she searching for, and why did it feel like I was always just a step behind her?

Author: Jake W. Simmons