Part One

The Interruption

Sometimes, I wonder if it was fate or fortuity. But I don't believe in coincidences, and thankfully, neither does he.

He has always been a distraction, an interruption, if we must name it. Yet, I would rather be distracted, than find productivity without him.

Not since the first day I saw him.

Rules, they say, exist for a reason. And the unspoken ones, the ones we nod in silent agreement to, wield even more power, controlling what we do and mustn't do.

These rules govern our day-to-day interactions with people, shaping what we would simply call courtesy.

Of course, that was important, but not as important to me as the seating arrangements in the library.

It had become my routine; that I would walk past the librarian whispering my greetings, as I arrange my bag on the rack, before walking to the end of the hall where my table was located. In isolation, just as I liked it.

I was forced to talk to people, pretend to be interested in small talk, and sometimes smile or wave. It was a necessity, except for when I sat at my table, my spot.

Far enough from people to give me space, yet, close enough to not look like a self-imposed quarantine.

Of course, they would sometimes throw stares my way, and under their breath call me proud, introverted, and my personal favorite, weird. But never to my face, and I could live with that.

Except today, I paused in my tracks because there he was, sitting at my table! Oblivious to my burning glare, my gaze fixed on him.

The first thing I noticed was not his face, or the charm in his smile, though both would later catch my attention.

What really drew me was the rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes drank in the words he read. The book, placed on the table would be flipped occasionally, although gently, careful to prevent creases.

I knew the book was good when he wouldn't look up, or notice my presence, despite how deadly my scowl was.

A man, and his book, were a pair even I could not tear apart. So for the first of many times, I would resign in defeat, refusing to be his interruption.

But since humans, are often unskilled in the art of reciprocity, he would once again interrupt me.

Only a few hours later, while scrambling to class would I need to stop in my tracks, yet again. This time, the book was in his hand, and his head was buried in it.

Too deeply to notice anything, including me, whose eyes were fixed on my phone checking my class group chat. We were recipe for disaster, bound to blow up in each other's faces.

Both too distracted, we bumped into each other, his book flying in one direction and my phone disappearing into the other.

This time I would notice his eyes first, and the confusion danced in them. A perfect parallel to the rage that blazed in mine.

Unable to stop myself, I would hiss at him,

“You again?! What exactly is your problem?!”

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Co-author’s note-

Hi there!

My friend, Rayo and I would be writing a story for the next 5-6 days. It will be spontaneous, interesting and swoon-worthy.

Remember to like, comment and share.

See you soon!

All my love,

Debsss.