I change quickly, tugging on some leggings and a generic St. Michael’s sweatshirt, hoping I’ll blend in with everyone else because I need air and some headspace.
My hands are shaking as I grab my notebook and laptop, but I shove that feeling down because I absolutely refuse to let them see me cry.
Instead, I do what I always do: pretend I’m fine and go to class.
The professor ends class, but I’m not ready to move. I just sit there, smiling at my laptop screen, my head full of ideas for this paper. Even my notebook is covered in scribbled notes, and I smooth a hand over the page, admiring it. For once, I didn’t let anything—or anyone—get in my head today.
I stayed focused. I listened. I wrote down every idea that floated through my mind.
And the best part? I’m actually excited to write something. That’s never happened before.
Students start packing up around me, chairs scraping, backpacks zipping, but I take my time. For the first time in a longtime, I feel like I’ve found a class I might actually be interested in.
When the room empties, I pack my things away and walk to the end of the aisle. A perky blonde with a megawatt smile and a tall guy with sandy brown hair are standing there. Even though I try to step around them, I somehow manage to bump into them.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, moving past, but the girl stands in front of me, blocking my exit.
“No problem,” the girl says before clearing her throat and leaning into my personal space. “I’m Jenni.” Still smiling, she thrusts her arm out.
I notice her blue-and-white manicure as I take her hand.
With her other hand, she uses her thumb to point at him. “And this guy is Chris. He’s just transferred from Southern Collegiate to play on the hockey team.”
I lift my gaze and meet the guy with slightly red cheeks and messy light brown hair.
“Hey,” he says with a chin tip, then focuses his attention back to Jenni.
“Uh, hi?” I answer back, surprised at their keenness.
“We thought we’d say hello,” she continues, “since we’ve noticed you sitting on your own in class a couple of times.”
“Oh.” I look between the two of them, not sure what to say. They’ve noticed I sit alone so much that they felt compelled to talk to me?
Wow, I’ve reached a new level of pathetic.
“Well, it was nice to meet you both. I’ll probably see you in the next class.”
I take a step back, instinctively pulling into myself, but Jenni doesn’t take the hint. She steps forward, all bright eyes and invasive energy.
“And you are?” she asks, her voice trailing off with a curious lilt.
I look at her for a second, waiting for the joke. The insult. Anything that I usually get from pretty girls like her, but her face remains blank.
Wait, doesn’t she know who I am?
Oh, God. Did I just think that?
Yeah, and it sounds ridiculous, but my reputation precedes me here. Most people have already made up their minds about me before they’ve met me, but not her, it would seem.
I blink, thrown. For a second, I don’t know how to respond. Then I force out a breath and give her a small nod.
“I’m sorry. I’m… Honey.”
Her brows lift. “Honey? Like… honeybees?”
There’s no malice in her tone, just confusion and maybe a little hint of amusement.
“Yeah, it's short for Hunniford,” I answer, feeling somewhat embarrassed about my rather unusual name under their gaze. “It’s a family name.”