Something about you

FELIX’S POV I came back to campus the way people return to places they pretend they don’t miss. With my hands in my pockets, my bag slung over one shoulder, and my mind already half busy with schedules and deadlines. Groups of students were scattered everywhere, sitting on benches, standing in circles, laughing too loudly like they were proving they belonged here again. The air felt different from home. Louder. Like everything was starting over whether you were ready or not. I didn’t make it ten steps before the first voice called my name. “Felix!” I turned, already smiling. A small crowd formed around me almost instantly. Familiar faces, girls from my department, from parties I barely remembered attending. Questions flew at me from every direction. “How was your holiday?”, “Did you travel?”, “Did you miss campus?”, “ Were you still planning on law school?” I answered easily, joking back, exaggerating stories. I’d learned early on that attention was easier to manage when you didn’t fight it. Still, it took a bit of maneuvering to finally escape, slipping through the hallway doors with a quick wave and a promise to “catch up later”. The main hallway buzzed with movement. Voices echoed off the walls, shoes squeaked against the newly polished floors. I walked to my locker, put in the combination, and it opened. That was when the noise shifted. Not louder, just different. Laughter floated down the hallway. A small group stood a few lockers down. Two girls were talking over each other, hands flying as they relived something that clearly mattered to them. They were expressive, full of life and drawing attention without trying. At the center of them stood someone else. She didn’t talk much, didn't need to. She leaned against a locker with an ease that looked natural. Her posture was relaxed, head tilted slightly as she listened to her girls. When she smiled, it was small and controlled, not the wide ass grin of someone begging to be seen. Her blonde hair was styled in a neat pony tail and it framed her face neatly. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. The campus was full of beautiful people. It was the way everything else seemed to move around her. She said something quietly, and the other girls burst into laughter again. She straightened, put her bag over her shoulder, and walked away. I didn’t realize I had stopped moving until the locker door creaked against my hand. I forced myself to look away, I grabbed my notebook. The hallway returned to its usual noise. Just another face, just another student. I closed my locker and headed for class. The lecture hall for political theory was already filling up when I arrived. I took my usual seat near the middle. The professor started almost immediately, diving into a discussion about power structures and moral authority. It didn’t take long before the debate began. I raised my hand out of habit. When I spoke, the room listened. I laid out my argument clearly, confidently, building it step by step. I’d had this conversation a hundred times in different forms. Politics was a game of logic and I knew how to play it well. A few students nodded. Someone whispered something to their friend. I was finishing my last point when another voice cut in. Calm and steady. She countered my argument cleanly, taking apart my conclusion without raising her voice or stumbling over her words. She didn’t sound rehearsed, she sounded sure. My mouth closed slowly, I turned in my seat, It was her. The girl from the hallway. She spoke again, adding another layer to her point, referencing something I hadn’t even considered. The room felt different now, tight and focused. I felt something twist in my chest. This doesn’t happen, I thought. No one does this. I tried to respond, pushing back, but she met every point with accuracy. She wasn’t aggressive, she wasn’t arrogant, she was just simply… right. For the first time in a long time, I was being topped. The professor leaned forward, eyes bright with astonishment. When the discussion finally came to an end, he smiled and nodded in her direction. “Well argued, Amy,” he said. “Excellent analysis.” Amy. The name settled in my mind like it had always been there. The professor proceeded to give us an assignment, his voice fading into background noise. Class was dismissed, shoes scraping loudly as everyone stood. Students surrounded her almost immediately, congratulating her, asking where she learned to argue like that, telling her she was brilliant. She smiled politely, answering a few questions while collecting her things. I stayed seated, watching as she left the room. I didn’t know why. Eventually, I stood and made my way back to my locker, my thoughts louder than the hallway. I slid my notebook inside and shut the door just as someone cleared their throat beside me. “Man,” Dexter Meeks said, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone shut you down like that.” I laughed, shaking my head. “You make it sound like a crime.” Dexter grinned. “It kind of was. Historic moment. I almost clapped.” “Don’t get used to it,” I said lightly. “I’m just tired today, I’ll recover.” He chuckled, still clearly impressed. We walked down the hall together, talking about the class, about how intense the semester already felt. When we reached the corner where our paths split, Dexter waved and headed off. I walked slowly. Ahead of me, down the hallway, Amy walked alone now. For a brief second, she glanced back, like she could feel eyes on her, our gazes met. She didn’t smile, she didn't frown. She just looked at me, curious and unreadable, before turning away and disappearing around the corner. It was a short moment, brief. I stood there longer than I should have. Something about her didn’t fit. And I had a feeling that noticing her was going to cost me more than I realized.