Zara walked into class and let her gaze wander without making eye contact with anyone. She made her way to a different seat. The creeper feeling she’d had last class had stuck with her and she didn’t want a repeat. Sitting down, she pulled her books out and got organized. As other students filed in, they took seats far apart from each other if they could. There seemed to be an unspoken rule about not sitting next to someone if you could give them a buffer.

Imagine her surprise when the seat next to her became occupied by a large figure that seemed to dwarf the space.

Even without looking over, she could tell that it was a man. Zara kept her eyes down, but she got the distinct feeling that he was staring at her. Not turned in his seat staring, but side-eye for sure.

Zara was never good at small talk so she waited for the class to start. Hoping that this wouldn’t have to be a thing. She didn’t like things, they were just complications.

“Hey, I’m Finley.”

Zara kept her eyes on the instructor trying to give Finley, apparently, the cues that she was going to be paying attention to class.

“Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, what’s your name?”

“Zara, oh look, here’s the professor,” she said in dismissal, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Do you have a pencil?”

She opened the pouch she carried and pulled one out before holding it out towards him in a vague way.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

Zara was done with the conversation so she pulled out her ponytail and let her hair fall over the side of her face as she looked at her notebook and started taking notes.

“So, fun class, huh?” he tried again.

“Shhh,” she whispered. Zara was not generally rude, but come on; this was no time to chat her up. Certainly not in class, and honestly, it was never a good time.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

A few heads turned towards them and she tried again. “Shhh…”

The man seemed to settle down and pay attention. Though Zara got the feeling he was splitting his focus between the professor and her. Plus, he kept making sniffing sounds. Opening her bag, she pulled out a pack of tissues and handed him one. Hoping he’d catch a clue.

He took it and the sniffing stopped. It took everything she had to stay focused. It felt like an eclipse was shadowing the room. The man next to her didn’t smell bad, in fact, he smelled good. It wasn’t an overwhelming spray cologne that was so popular. It also wasn’t a mix of natural oils and incense. He smelled like a hike. Like wet ferns and fresh dirt. Pine needles and crisp mountain air. That at least meant he had decent hygiene habits. That was a struggle for some of her fellow collegiate brethren.

There was a significant height difference between them too, considering her eyes had to slide up to see him, though her hair was blocking most of her view.

As soon as the class wrapped she grabbed her things and headed quickly for the door. She was outside and sliding on a pair of sunglasses against the bright ball of burning gas in the sky when she heard a “Hey!” yelled out.

Oh gawd, so embarrassing. It couldn’t be him.

Please, don’t let it be him.

“Zara, hey, Zara!”

She skidded to a halt and groaned. “Yes?”

“You practically ran out of there!”

She looked up at him through her sunglasses and had to swallow before she could speak again. He was hot, like rough hot. Like teen angst movie, white t-shirt in the rain hot. He had dark hair that was long on top and trimmed on the sides. He had a beard that was short and made his jaw look rugged and strong. It wasn’t a fashion beard that he threw glitter in for Instagram. This was the kind of beard that a guy grew because otherwise he would have to shave twice a day just to keep it under control. His eyes were light colored, but she couldn’t really tell behind her dark lenses.

He was smiling at her. What could he possibly have to smile at her about? She’d brushed him off. She shushed him. Twice! Zara had found that shushing people was more brutal than a verbal put down. She’d learned it from her mother. Zara once watched her mother shush a police officer that was going to write her a parking ticket. Needless to say, she didn’t get the ticket and the cop had left sporting a blush on his cheeks. Getting told off by an Indian mother speaking at light speed was a little overwhelming for anyone.

“Oh, well, I have another class…” she said lamely. She wasn’t about to tell him that she had beaten a hasty retreat just to avoid him. That would be embarrassing.

“Now?”

“In two hours, actually. But I like to get as much of my assignments done between classes as I can.”

“What are you studying? Gonna be a teacher?”

“Oh, no, a pediatrician actually.”

“No shit, pre-med. Wow. And the development class?”

“I want to know more about kids than just how their physical anatomy works. It’s not the same as working with adults.” Why she was explaining this to him? It just all came out so easily when he asked.

“That’s great! I want to run a preschool when I’m done. A preschool/daycare really.”

Zara felt her mouth drop open then she snapped it shut. “I’m sorry; you want to run a preschool?”

“Sure, why not. I have a big family and I think it would be great to have a place for the kids to learn and play. It would help the workers for my family’s businesses too.”

“Your family has businesses? Like plural?”

“Yeah, I’m Finley Rochon. Sorry, I didn’t properly introduce myself and I’m I sorry I was keeping you from listening. That was my bad.”

Zara wasn’t sure about his name. He said it like she would recognize it. It rang a bell like she might have seen it on a billboard or something. Maybe they were lawyers or sold mattresses for a great discount with silly television commercials.

“I don’t mean to be rude. I just take my schooling very seriously. I have to in order to get into medical school.”

“I would imagine you’d have to. I didn’t catch your last name,” he said offering his hand.

Zara reached for it while she automatically said, “Zara Chadha.” The instant their hands touched she gasped and his eyes got bigger. There was a physical spark between them like they had been running around in their footie pajamas on the carpet trying to zap each other with a static charge.

“Must be dry out,” she said laughing it away.

His expression had changed a bit at the touch, and his smile seemed to slip just a little. There was a line between his eyes like the shock had surprised him.

“Maybe,” he said hesitantly. “I feel like I have to confess something to you. I actually sat next to you again because you smell so good. It’s like cinnamon and spice. It’s very pleasant and honestly, I didn’t want to sit next to anyone that smelled like weed.”

Zara felt herself blush at the compliment. She was lucky he didn’t say she smelled like curry because that was always a possibility.

“Ahh, the daily game of ‘is that a skunk or the guy next to you?’” she laughed.

“Exactly. So, can I walk you to your next class, or maybe buy you a coffee?”

Zara was thinking up good a reason, and there were many, why she should turn him down. Instead, while her brain was working up a thoughtful way to decline, her mouth blurted out, “Sure, coffee would be nice.”

Coffee would be nice? Since when did she accept coffee dates from strangers? Let alone strangers who looked like him? And he was so pretty to look at. She was kind of wishing she hadn’t put on her bright pink dress over her celestial patterned tights this morning. But then she didn’t think she’d be having coffee with the gorgeous preschool teacher Finley.

“Great, let’s hit the café. I think Sammy is working right now and she can brew a mean cup.”

“You know the baristas?” she asked as they started walking.

“I know most of them. You have to know your favorites so you can avoid the ones that would reuse the same grounds all day because they forgot you shouldn’t do that.”

“Hah, stoners,” she said.

“You know it’s an interesting phenomenon that someone should study. Has productivity gone down since marijuana became legal, or are we just more aware of why some people suck?”

“Interesting hypothesis. I’m sure somebody already has a grant to research it. And by research it I mean pay for their Capital Hill condo so they can immerse themselves in the culture to learn the truth,” Zara said sarcastically.

“Damn, I’m not into that, but that’s a great idea. Then again, that does involve grant writing so you’d have to do it sober. There is no way anyone is going to write coherently with some of the stuff I’ve seen people on.”

“I guess you are going to have to continue on your path and leave the big scientific breakthroughs to the Phish groupies.”

“Probably. Thanks for having coffee with me. I’m kinda drawn to you. Not in a scary way, I hope. But have you ever found someone that gave you goosebumps? And you have to find out why you had that reaction? Whether it’s good or bad?” He was walking with his hands in his pockets and being very non-threatening. At least his body language appeared relaxed.

Zara wasn’t so sure she wanted to tell him he gave her those goosebumps before. She was certain it was him that had sat behind her during the last class. The fresh woodsy smell that filled her nostrils now was the same.

“I guess so. I don’t really interact much with people on campus. I’m pretty busy and I don’t live here so I keep to myself. It’s not that I don’t like people. But it seems superfluous,” she said with a shrug.

“Hmm, I’m guessing you scored high on your verbal on your SAT’s?”

Zara couldn’t help but giggle. “Yeah, I did. How did you guess?”

“Educated deduction,” he smirked.

As they arrived at the café, he moved in front of her and held the door open for them. Approaching the counter, the bubbly blonde barista put on a huge grin when she saw him.

“Fin! It’s been days since I saw you. Are you cheating on me?” The woman said, leaning over the counter exposing a fair amount of cleavage.

“I have to spread my coffee purchases around. I can’t show favoritism, you know that,” he said charmingly.

Zara raised an eyebrow at him. “Flirt much?” It wasn’t as though she cared, but when it was right in front of her it was a little annoying.

“You always flirt with whoever is making your coffee. That way they make it with a smile and not the dirty spoon that was dropped on the floor.”

“Even the men?”

“Especially the men,” he replied.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sammy laughed. Zara could see she was interested in Fin, but wasn’t about to look pushy doing so.

“So what will you have? I’m buying,” he said.

“I can buy my own drink, thanks.”

“But then I wouldn’t get my coffee card punched and I’d lose out on a freebie. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience now would you?”

“Puhleeze,” she said with a laugh.

Zara was in a white chocolate mocha mood and Finley ordered a latte and went to the counter to add something to it. She waited for him to come back and they found a seat together.

“Not enough sugar?” she asked.

“No, just wanted to add some cinnamon. Trying to figure out what that amazing scent you wear is. This kind of reminds me of you, but it’s missing something.”