I'm officially done with philosophy. I cram these rules in as much as I can, and still, I can't see the difference between sensualism and empiricism. They both seem to be about acquiring knowledge through something, so why is their meaning different? Or maybe I'm just too stupid for all these theories and concepts? It's interesting because I manage algebra quite satisfactorily, not to mention food technology, as my amateur version of churros took first place in the last class!

Although I should solely attribute missing the podium to Newton's absence. There's no point in competing with that guy when it comes to cooking.

I lean over the papers and twirl my own hair in hopes that this massage will somehow stimulate my mind, and then I'll experience miraculous enlightenment and understand the silly difference between identical rules.

It is not working.

Feeling resigned, I reach for my Dunkin' Donuts cup and nearly burn my tongue because the coffee is still scorching hot. Nothing seems to go right for me today!

I lean back, forgetting that these seats practically have no support, and then I hit my head on something soft. I instantly jump up and glance over my shoulder, and when I see someone's back before my eyes, I swear my face starts to brighten with embarrassment. For a brief moment, I wrestle with myself to brush off this incident and return to studying, but ultimately, my gaze shoots upwards. I lock eyes with a guy, and his face displays pure amusement, which makes me regret getting out of bed today.

Did I...?

Did I really hit my head on his...?

"Uh... Sorry," I mutter dully, as if hoping that after a while, I'll teleport back home and this whole event will turn out to be just a silly dream.

"No worries." He smiles broadly. His voice makes it clear that I'm not dreaming but rather making a fool of myself in my favorite café, which will haunt me for the next few weeks because I oddly enjoy recalling embarrassing situations.

Suddenly, I became aware that I'd been gazing at this guy for far too long. The whole situation feels utterly absurd, and I can't help but feel a sense of unease. I struggle to close my eyes and return to the philosophy formulas, wheezing with my exhale as if having an asthma attack.

It's fine. These guys will leave soon, and then I'll forget that something like this ever happened. Just like that.

"Oh? Are you studying doctrine?"

I raise my eyebrows as the guy from the incident a moment ago leans in next to my shoulder. He looks at the papers filled with all these logies, isms, and other stuff that I don't understand, and I can't help but feel a mix of curiosity and confusion.

Somehow, I manage to muster a response: "Let's say so. I can't get this stuff." I shrug my shoulders.

"Seriously?" he responds, looking genuinely surprised. "But everything is explained here," he says, pointing at the papers.

"Do you understand philosophy?" I cross my arms, tilting my head. Unbelievable! None of my group mates excel in this topic, not even Newton!

"I love philosophy." He smiles lightly, looking at me with a hint of mischief and danger in his eyes. "What specifically don't you understand?" He moves a nearby chair and sits on it. "Get me the usual," he says, his words concise and to the point, prompting his friend to leave without uttering a single word.

"Everything." I lower my gaze, feeling foolish.

Surprisingly, he doesn't mock me.

"Hmm." He ponders, taking a sheet of paper in his hand. I look at him curiously, wondering what's going on in his mind. "What are you currently working on?"

"I'm stuck on the first point. And we have to submit the essay in English by next week." I let my arms drop in resignation, waiting for him to laugh, get up, and walk away, considering me a complete idiot. Yet again, he defies my expectations and merely nods as if searching for a solution to this problem.

As a result, the entire situation begins to intrigue me even more because I initiated this interaction by accidentally hitting my head on his butt! The sheer absurdity of it makes me want to scream out of embarrassment. It's such a silly and unlikely situation that a regular person would simply walk away, but he chooses to stay and seemingly feels compelled to engage in conversation with me. It's truly hard to believe!

"Empiricism. Okay."

"And sensualism," I add, looking at him uncertainly.

In response, he sends me a gentle smile that has both a heartwarming and thought-provoking quality.

"I think I know what the problem is," he says, putting the sheet of formulas aside and focusing his full attention on me. "You don't really like philosophy, do you?"

"It's hard to like something you don't understand."

"When there is genuine interest, it often leads to positive outcomes." He shrugs. "You know, you can find philosophy in everything. Do you enjoy reading?"

I nod in response.

"Then you probably know Tolkien." With a quick movement, he brushes his heavy hair off his forehead and then leans over the table, calmly adding, "Read his novels in your free time. The Lord of the Rings touches on various doctrines, some of which intersect with religion. There's a lot of room for interpretation, so you won't get bored. Maybe you'll develop an appreciation for the subject as a result; who knows?" He slides the sheet of formulas towards me, indicating it with a nod of his head. "Leave the theory for later."

Feeling mixed up, I just stare as the guy stands up, sends me a final smile, and then pushes the chair closer to the table before leaving.

Until now, I've been half-heartedly doing most things, so maybe it's not such a bad idea?

I lean back in the chair and look behind me, searching with my eyes for the owner of that questionable smile. Unfortunately, I don't see him at the counter or at nearby tables. I give up immediately. Worried, I put all the papers into my folder and lean forward, taking the cup in my hand. The coffee is no longer scalding, so I gulp it down in an instant, then rest my chin on my hand and think with consternation about what I heard a moment ago.

All I have to do at the moment is show genuine interest, isn't it?

Scratching my cheek, I cast a final glance around the nearby tables, naively hoping that our gazes would meet again.

And then I recognize him.

He stands by the exit, holding a paper cup in his hand and leaning against the wall. His friend is searching his pockets; this must be the only reason they're still inside the café. Interest floods my face. I gaze intently in their direction but don't focus all my attention on them. Instead, I let myself drift into momentary contemplation.

And that's all it takes for me to catch his attention.

Our eyes meet, and he acknowledges me with a nod, raising his cup in a silent gesture. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and I nearly find myself reciprocating it, but he averts his gaze, leaving the café alongside his friend. As the door closes behind them, our connection is finally severed.

Feeling a bit down, I take out my phone from the folder and look at the missed call from Lisa. Lately, I've been giving her much less time because I simply can't attach much importance to what she says. I just can't. On the other hand, it's not right to give up so easily. If I don't do anything about it, everything will fall apart.

I remember the words of the philosophy guy and start to feel that strange, even peculiar sensation again, as if the topic he brought up is something not obvious, despite being the biggest cliché.

I sigh and scroll through my contacts to press the green call button next to Lisa's number, realizing that I must dedicate much more interest to her than I have so far.

***

Lisa orders a caramel coffee with foamed milk. I don't really understand that combination. I prefer classic black coffee from an espresso machine because I can't stand the grounds. I always forget and drink too much. As a result, those little devils prick my throat for the rest of the day and make it unbearable.

I wrap my arm around Lisa, inhaling the air that carries a subtle floral scent, which — I won't deny it — really gets me going. Lisa never overdoes it with perfume, and I'm grateful for that, even though we don't see each other very often.

I don't know what holds me back from taking the next step. I like Lisa, but in her company, I often find myself feeling bored, which shouldn't happen when you spend time with someone you want to do more things with. For example, I have much more fun with Newton, but I certainly don't think about kissing him or... Well, in any case, my confusion about Lisa shouldn't surprise anyone.

I clear my throat.

"Did you watch the movie I told you about?" Lisa takes a seat at the corner table and tucks her hair behind her ears. Her fair complexion, combined with that hairstyle, immediately reminds me of Legolas.

"No, I couldn't find a free moment," I reply, trying to conceal my smile. I can't help it!

"Oh, what a shame. I'm into old romantic comedies these days."

"Really?" It's only after the fact that I realize I said it somewhat gloomily. I grimace but don't add anything. I lift my cup and take a substantial sip of hot coffee. It doesn't matter that it will most likely scorch my throat. There's nothing worse than an awkward silence.

I squeeze my eyelids shut, feeling the tears welling up, but I push them aside and, attempting to take a deep, steady breath, I turn my head towards the window, offering a view of the bustling street. Cars move slowly, stuck in traffic caused by rush hour.

My throat still burns, so I cough briefly, which helps a little.

"I would invite you over for an evening because I'm planning a small marathon, but I already texted the girls, so... another time." Lisa lightly bites her lip, running her finger across the dark screen. A notification suddenly appears, and Lisa picks up her phone to read the new message. I'm not particularly interested in its content, so I avert my gaze.

"Sure, no problem. Have a great time."

I take another sip. I don't think it can get any worse.

Lisa starts tapping her nails on the screen, paying no attention to my presence. In moments like these, I wonder if she does it so casually because she trusts me a lot or if she simply forgets that she's not alone. If I'm honest, I lean more towards the latter, but at the same time, I try to think positively about our relationship, so...

It's better to just keep quiet about it.

And despite everything, I don't know if there's something wrong with me or what's going on. I mean, interest is supposed to lead to results, but somehow I can't get into this relationship. I try to talk to find common topics, but every time it feels like I'm forcing it. Lisa has grown weary of this constant tug-of-war as well. Because I don't know how else to describe our relationship.

"And what are you doing tomorrow?" Lisa asks, still not tearing her eyes away from her phone.

"I think... nothing." I shrug.

Another notification.

"Oh, well, you know, Kat said she's throwing a house party." She briefly turns her head, offering a genuine smile, but I can't attribute her happiness to my presence alone.

"Kat?"

I have no idea who Kat is. I try to remember if Lisa ever mentioned her, but nothing rings a bell.

"And since you don't have any plans, we can meet there."

I can't help but raise my eyebrows, which Lisa fortunately doesn't register because she's too absorbed in texting someone named Kat. I doubt that refusing makes sense, so I nod my head without much purpose, and right after that, I look to the other corner of the café. I can't hide my irritation anymore. Ugh, I had so much more fun analyzing the journey of the Fellowship and delving into the significance of that precious trinket.

Newt couldn't comprehend my sudden insistence on watching what he referred to as 'The Jeweler', yet he didn't offer any resistance and willingly spent a few hours in my company, ignoring Mia's continuous munching of popcorn during the second part. However, the truth is, I can't fully grasp what has been propelling me lately. Yes, I do want to finally comprehend philosophy and secure a good grade on my essay, but there must be something deeper driving me. There has to be. I'm absolutely certain of it.

In an instant, my gaze fixes on the exact spot where I encountered the philosophy enthusiast a few days ago. It's not that I'm preoccupied with some random guy while I'm with Lisa, but he intrigued me. Or rather... Well, it's hard to put into words, but he ignited something within me. He emphasized that genuine interest is the key to progress, and I find myself making an effort to understand things I've previously neglected. Moreover, his passionate discussion about philosophy served as a testament that one can truly enjoy the subject.

But here lies the dilemma: Should I force myself to be interested when I'm clearly struggling with it? I down the last of my coffee while Lisa finishes her caramel drink and briefly steps away. Seizing the moment of tranquility, I sit up straight, massaging my temples in hopes of invigorating my thought processes. Who knows, maybe it will lead to an epiphany, allowing me to engage in a normal conversation for once? While it would be nice if Lisa did a similar self-massage, I refrain from setting overly high expectations. Thus, when she returns after a few minutes with a faint smile, resuming her chatter about the house party, I simply go along with it.

I'm not really in the mood for playing with a group of giggling girls I barely know, but...

I sigh.

At least this one last time, I can make an effort. Or at least try. Whatever.

***

Newt greets me in his worn-out pants that surely remember the time of dinosaurs.

"You're wearing those old rags again," I remark.

"I'm not going anywhere." He casually lets me in through the door.

"As always." I roll my eyes.

I kick off my shoes and follow my friend upstairs, straight into his room. This is where the biggest surprise comes because one would think that Newt doesn't care about tidiness, considering he always roams the house in those deadly outfits, yet his room is always clean.

He picks up his guitar and starts strumming the strings. Although he does it casually, I don't complain and quietly take a seat, finally taking a deep breath and burying my face in my hands.

"I think I'm going crazy, Newt. This time, for good."

Playing stops. I lift my head and look at him wearily.

"No matter how much I try to pay attention to her, it's just not working. I don't know what to talk to her about that would actually make a difference. And I even watched those two movies she sent me!"

"You're talking about Lisa?"

"Yes." I nod apathetically. "And about '10 Things I Hate About You'. I can't remember the other title; it was boring."

Newt raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"Don't ask, please." I almost sank into the chair.

"But if you don't feel anything, why are you forcing yourself?"

I told him about Lisa shortly after I started texting her because it's normal for friends to share such things, and after all, Newt is more than just a friend to me, so he should know about these things. Lisa goes to a different school, so Newton only knows her through my brief stories.

"Well, I don't know," I say, preferring not to dwell on it, as I'll end up with even more tangled thoughts than I have now. "Listen, would you come with me to a house party tomorrow? We can have fun together; what do you say?"

"Of course," he says slowly, drawing out the syllables. He raises an eyebrow. "Maybe we can take some vodka from my parents' liquor cabinet?"

"Why did I even bother asking?" I dismissively wave my hand.

Although Newt spends most of his time at home, seeking peace and quiet, that doesn't mean he completely isolates himself from the outside world. There are occasions when he can be convinced to go out and socialize. However, capturing his interest often requires going the extra mile.

"And what if I tell you that Lisa has some very, um, cool friends?"

"Please." He shakes his head with amusement. "As if you know the name of any of them."

"Kat," I say.

"Ah, right. Kat. Like Katarina?" Newt changes chords and strums his fingers along the strings a few times. It sounds nice. And somewhat familiar? "You almost convinced me."

"I'm serious!" I lean toward him. "Hey, what was that, by the way?" I nod towards the guitar. "I feel like I've heard it somewhere before."

Newt looks at me for a moment with an unreadable smile. I involuntarily gaze at the freckles scattered across his nose.

"You mean this?" Another strum of the strings. And another one after that. "Or maybe this?"

He doesn't wait for my answer. He starts playing seriously, and then the whole atmosphere around him starts to change. Usually, it's very subtle — the slight furrowing of his dark brows and the slight tightness of the right corner of his mouth, as if he unconsciously bites his lip there. But this time, there's something else in it — something I can't fully identify. Not now.

The lyrics of the song naturally form in my mind.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

"Wait." I cross my arms over my chest, studying Newt intently. "This is the song from '10 Things I Hate About You'."

"More like Frankie Valli," he says, and there is that smile again. "But I guess you tend to forget that I have a younger sister."

"And I suppose Mia also made you learn the whole song?"

"Under the threat of playing Doop on a loop."

"I'm sorry, but what?" I snort, standing up from the chair.

I immediately take out my phone from my pocket and open Spotify. It's the first time I've heard of something called Doop. Only Newt can come up with something that only people who are a hundred years old know about.

"Don't even think about it." He drops his arms in resignation, knowing exactly what I'm going to do.

"Well, since you ask so nicely," I smile sweetly at him and then delightfully press play.

Newt lets out a prolonged sigh, lying down on the bed with his guitar. And from me, a loud, genuine laugh bursts out.

"I hate you."

"You love me," I clarify.

I sit next to him, unapologetically turning up the volume.

"This is actually quite enjoyable to listen to."

"Don't you have something to do?" he asks, his eyes briefly flickering towards me, a mischievous smile barely hidden on his face. I can't help but wonder what he's up to. "Like, far from this place?"

I ponder his question for a moment, considering my options. It's true that I don't have any pressing obligations at the moment. I simply shrug in response. "Not really."

His gaze shifts to my phone, and without asking for permission, he reaches for it, causing a slight flutter of anticipation in my chest. I don't protest as he takes it from my hand, curiosity getting the better of me. "What about your English essay?" He glances at the screen, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "From one to six? Seriously?" he remarks, referring to the PIN code to unlock my phone. The clarity of his statement allows me to understand his playful reference.

"Buzz off." I try to snatch my phone back, but he has already closed Spotify and locked the screen. "I have a little over three pages. Maybe I'll find some peace and quiet at Kat's place tomorrow and finish it there. At least time will pass somehow."

"So, her name really is Kat." He taps his fingers rhythmically on the guitar. "But seriously, why are you going there if you don't feel like it?" He looks at me for a moment with a hint of confusion.

Seeing that I don't intend to answer because I simply don't know, he lets it go. He stands up, straightens his back, and goes back to playing.

And I don't delve into the topic, even though I feel there's something peculiar in the air — something that hasn't been between us before.

***

I look at Lisa's message, forcing myself to muster a little enthusiasm. She has sent me the address of this so-called Kat. The neighborhood rings a bell, but I'm not entirely convinced if it's the right area.

I leave the room.

Mom is sitting on the couch in front of the TV, flipping through the Walmart catalog. I sit next to her, and involuntarily, I let out a sigh, prompting her to immediately wrap her arm around me and ask how I'm doing. I tilt my head and look at the brochure.

"My friend invited me to a party, but I don't want to go."

"Do your friend's parents allow parties?" She raises an eyebrow, surprised.

"Of course not," I scoff, shaking my head. "It's not actually her parents. I mean, the party is happening at someone else's place, you know... Anyway, I don't know." I shrug. "Browsing through the soap dispenser catalog and..." I furrow my brows, trying to catch a glimpse of what's on the folded page. "Are those soap dispensers?"

"Yes, sweetheart." She runs her hand through my hair with a wide smile. "It's good to know that someone actually listens to me."

"Naturally." I clear my throat quickly. "Browsing through that catalog is probably much more interesting. You see... I've known this friend for a while now, but our connection is weakening. She keeps talking about movies and TV shows, and I... Well, I can't really get into it."

"Maybe ask her about other interests?"

"That's a tough one."

"Well." Mom pauses momentarily to gather her thoughts. "Am I to understand that you've already confirmed your presence?" She returns to the topic of the party.

"I didn't really have a say in it."

"Oh?" Amusement flickers across her face. "If you promise not to stumble back home in the early morning, tripping over your own feet, I'll turn a blind eye this one time."

I respond with a stiff smile.

"I'm afraid I'll be arriving much earlier."

Mom nods and tousles my hair. She says it's the one and only time she's letting me go to a party, but I know she does it out of pure trust. I've never done anything that would raise alarm bells in her mind.

That's what I intend to stick to.

***

Google Maps shows that Kat's house is only a few miles away from mine. I board the correct bus, validate my ticket, and take the first available seat by the aisle. A message from Lisa pops up on my screen, so I quickly open Messenger. In response to her question about whether I'm on my way, I send her a photo from the bus, and she replies with a thumbs-up sticker. The conversation ends there, and I pocket my phone.

At the next stop, the doors screech open as a small group of people board, breaking the silence with their chatter. I close my eyes.

But then I feel a strong impact against the window, so I open my eyes and see someone else entering the bus, nodding apologetically to the driver. He looks around, and as our eyes meet, I immediately recall the day when I spent a pleasant afternoon in a café studying philosophy. It seems like our last encounter ended quite similarly.

After getting the ticket, he walks towards me. I avert my gaze, finding it strange to stare at a guy I don't know, but moments later, I can't help but look at him again as he sits in the seat next to mine, giving me a slight smile.

"Hey, stuntman," he emphasizes.

I can't help but feel a blush spreading across my face.

"Hey." I focus my attention on the nearest barrier.

So I made a fool of myself by accidentally bumping my head against his butt!

I really want to ignore him now, but I can't, as my gaze instinctively turns towards him. I see that elusive smirk and amusement in his eyes, which annoys me even more.

"I'm not making fun of you." He leans back, resting his hands on his legs, and gazes at me sideways. "Seriously," he adds, noticing my disbelief.

"It's fine," I say nonchalantly.

"Good." He nods, smiling even wider. He looks at me in silence, seemingly waiting for a response, but I don't plan on speaking because I can't think of anything to say. As a result, I straighten my back. "Such smooth talk, isn't it?" he remarks.

And again, I can't help but let my lips stretch into a smile as our gazes meet once more.

"Darren." He doesn't offer me a handshake or anything. Actually, it's better that he doesn't, because it would be extremely awkward.

"Samuel."

Somehow... Due to these two words, some of the nervousness fades into the background.

And that's good because it allows me to carry on the conversation about philosophy, which I still don't fully grasp. Darren seems confident in this topic, and he rewards me with some advice while also listening as I talk about the latest Jewelermarathon. I accidentally mispronounce the title, and for a moment, he looks at me with surprise because he probably has no idea what I'm talking about, but that awkwardness quickly dissipates.

And I really don't know how it's possible, but suddenly, the bus comes to a sudden stop at the final destination, and there's no sign of it leaving again anytime soon. I panic and look around, realizing that I should have gotten off quite a while ago, but here I am, engrossed in conversation with a guy I only know two things about.

His name is Darren, and he really loves philosophy.

"Are you getting off?" he asks, standing by the doors.

"I guess? I don't know." I get up, but after two steps, I awkwardly glance out the windows.

"Did you mix up the stops?"

"Apparently." I scratch my head with embarrassment. Since this is the end of the line, I must be somewhere on the outskirts, and I rarely wander around this area, so...

"Oh, damn, sorry. I must've distracted you." Darren checks the schedule. "The return trip is in about an hour. Maybe a bit longer."

"Sure."

We step off the bus. It's not too late, yet there's no one in the vicinity. In fact, the whole neighborhood feels remote. I'm not sure if I've ever been here before.

"Can I find a café nearby?" I instinctively shift my gaze to Darren.

"You can wait at my place. It's pretty close." He doesn't smile or look tired.

"Okay." I nod because this option seems much better than waiting at the bus stop for who knows how long.

We cross the street, and shortly after, Darren approaches a tall gate. Finding the key is no issue, and after a moment, I close the door behind me and take off my sneakers. It takes Darren a bit longer because he's wearing combat boots.

I feel vibrations in my pocket. I pull out my phone and read Lisa's message, only focusing on the notification. I immediately notice the time and realize that too much time has passed since our last conversation, so according to that, I should already be at the party, having a blast with someone named Katarina.

"Is something wrong?" I tear my attention away from the phone. Darren is looking at me with interest, which makes me slightly self-conscious, but only because I'm not used to interacting with people I have no clue about.

"I should be at the party right now."

He isn't surprised.

"But I don't know if I really want to be there," I add.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall.

I do the same, but on the opposite side.

"You mentioned earlier that genuine interest usually leads to positive results. That's why I believed that investing more attention in my friend would make things better. But nothing seems to change. In fact, it's getting worse." I sigh, rolling my eyes. "It feels like I'm just wasting my time, even though I'm making an effort."

"You know, when it comes to people..." He furrows his brow, maintaining eye contact. "It's a bit more complex. While investing attention in friendships can enhance the experience, it has to be mutual. If you don't feel a connection, even if you're making an effort, it's not worth forcing it."

Newt said the same thing.

"It's so stupid..."

"I wouldn't say it's stupid." He still maintains eye contact, and now I don't feel as embarrassed about it. "Some people just don't click. Just like you can improve something by showing a little interest, you shouldn't force it when your efforts don't help." He smiles slightly with passion, and just from that, I know what he's going to say.

And the awareness doesn't bother me at all.

I spend a pleasant hour in Darren's company, listening to his perspective that interpretation knows no bounds. I even find out that he plans to study philosophy, which doesn't surprise me given his passion for the subject. Eventually, I get to know him a bit better, and that fact satisfies me.

I know his name is Darren, and he loves philosophy to the point where he wants to study it. He has several shelves in his room filled with books; among the titles, I see the entire Lord of the Rings series and The Hobbit, which he also recommends to me. And, the best part, his phone number is a palindrome! Palindromes are awesome!

All of this makes me want to know even more about him.

The bus arrives, so I take one last look at the guy and board it. I take a seat, lean my head back, and sigh as I remember that I still have unread messages from Lisa. The last one ends with a very unexpected slur, so I grimace and turn off my phone, deciding not to get off at the stop where I should have already alighted a while ago. I head straight back home.