U of M Series: The Chemistry Poet

Chapter 6: Piper

For the third time today, I am in close proximity with Sawyer. I've managed to never have a conversation with him in three years, yet in one day I have three run ins. It isn't lost on me he's the last one in here and all the servers have left. It's just me and a line cook in the back remaining here to close up. 

I ignore both the spark of excitement and the somersaults in my belly at the thought of being alone with Sawyer when he decided to stay for one more beer.

I toe my Chucks over the bar mat on the ground. "So... you like IPA's? They are really bitter." Why I add in the second part is lost on me. He drinks the damn beer, so he probably knows this already.

"Adds a nice bite," he replies before smiling. 

His oh-all-the-naughty-things-you'd-let-me-do-to-you smile. One he gives to many women. My stomach drops and my mood sours.

You're not special. Don't let the man-whore's smile fool you, P.

I stand up straighter and push my shoulders back. "Well, anyways I've got to start cleaning up." I rush to the register to print out his bill and slap the receipt on the bar in front of him with a tight-lipped smile.

Anger surging through me for some unknown reason, I lose control over myself and start counting my steps as I head to the kitchen. One, two, three, four, five...Thirty-two steps later I lean against the wall of the kitchen with a sigh, hiding from both Sawyer and my uncontrollable emotions.

"What is wrong with me? Mercurial much?" I ask myself out loud.

"Que bonita? I'll tell you what's wrong with you," Jose the line cook replies. "You have a stick up your—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Joe," I interrupt. 

He replies with a shrug and toothy grin. 

As I decide to overcome my irrational reaction over Sawyer and head back to the front, Jose rattles off more words in Spanish.

Gulping, I turn the corner back into the bar to a half drank beer, an empty barstool, and cash on his tab. I frown.

~*~

Working and studying all weekend always sucked, but when Monday rolls around I am ready for my chemistry lecture. With the late nights working and today's early morning, I didn't get to read anymore of the anonymous chemistry poetry like I wanted.

Arriving early, I take a seat in the front row of the lecture hall. I place my bag on the chair beside me to save a spot for David. Thank goodness here I wouldn't have to work with Sawyer. I spend time arranging the too small desk usual for these lecture halls. I organize a blue, yellow, and pink highlighter. I place my water bottle just so. And lastly, I open my notes to title and pre-outline the page. The hall starts filling in at this point and I let out a relieved sigh I'm nearly ready to go.

Busy continuing my outlining and color coding everything I don't look at the people around me, but I feel David slide into the seat next to me. I don't acknowledge him, but he is well aware of my OCD so he doesn't question what I'm doing. Until he swipes my blue highlighter out of my hand that is. 

"Hey! What are you do..." I look up to find honey eyes instead of the dark brown I expected. "Sawyer. I was saving that seat—"

"Awe, Kitty, you didn't have to save me a seat." He winks. "But I do appreciate it." 

He has a backwards cap on again and I can't but help love the way his hair curls from underneath it. His hair looks wet, probably came straight from the showers after his practice. Damn. Sawyer and shower in the same sentence brings some delightful images to my mind.

"I didn't even know you had this lecture."

"I usually sit in the far back. Easier to slip in if practice runs late." He twirls my highlighter between his fingers. "Besides, only nerds sit in the front row." His eyes sparkle in amusement, like he wants to get a rise in me.

"Oh no. What ever will you do if someone sees you up here? Your reputation will be sullied."

He sinks in his chair and adjusts his hat. In his tank top with his arms bent back, his triceps flex at attention. My mouth dries. I mean, sure a good bicep is common these days, but a good tricep... I shake my head realizing I'm staring.

"Nah, they'll take one look at you and understand why I'm sitting here."

"Because you'll be getting answers from me?" I ask, confused. 

He quirks his head, studying me. His expression telling me I'm obliviously unaware of something. And perhaps I am. I don't have time to wonder, because Dr. Saunders marches in.

 I read my notes. I didn't have time to finish outlining. Usually I'd be in an anxious panic, but Sawyer had distracted me. "Give me that." I yank the marker from his hand. He has no notebook, back pack, or even a pencil. "Where's your stuff?" I whisper.

"I didn't bring anything."

I open my mouth and then close it, and then open it again, only to close it once more. "But...But...your notes? How will you take them?"

He smirks and taps his temple. "I got a pencil and paper up here."

My stomach tightens. It has nothing to do with his good looks but my anxiety. He needs to take notes. He can't possibly remember it all. I run my palms over my thighs. Why do I worry over his notes anyways? I'm completely unsettled and not even registering what the professor says. He'll fail the exam next week if he doesn't take notes.

"Hey," he squeezes my thigh, just above my knee. I feel a shock of electricity, of excitement. "Don't worry, I said I won't screw you over. I got this. Just trust me."

Just trust me. With his words, miraculously, my panic fades.