Leaving for class this morning, I had anticipated a lot of things—making some pretty notes, having a nap or two in class, getting to the bakery that was two blocks away just in time to buy the best donuts I'd ever had in my life before they were sold out. Of course, there was also the thought that that day's weather might take a malevolent turn; a thought I had promptly brushed off, as if my confidence and faith in my leather jacket could be enough to fight off the wrath of the sky.

I liked to think I was as prepared for bad situations as I was for good ones. But there I was, getting off my regular bus with a stranger because he had noticed some creepy guy following me. Not only that, but he was walking me home because the said guy got off at my station. Naturally. I was thinking that I might as well just go to sleep immediately after I got home and forced this day into being over and done.

"Alright," Harry sighed, watching our bus leave without him, and then turned to me, his sour expression giving away the fact that he was probably having the same train of thought. "Let's get you home."

"Okay."

"You live far from here?"

"Nope, a few minutes down the street."

"Alright," He repeated, this time more optimistically, "let's go."

I gripped the strap of my backpack as we started walking in silence, and boy, what an awkward silence it was. Clearly, neither of us was ready to be paired in such a disheartening situation this fine evening, so much so that I believed we both couldn't wait for this to become a faded memory. I was, in fact, already rewiring my brain to take note of as few things on my way home as possible. I refused to have this ingrained in my brain. I refused to have it become a core memory.

And thinking about it that way only proved that it was becoming a core memory as we walked.

"So." Harry cleared his throat, his voice surprising me a bit, "how come you're studying Journalism?"

"Oh, to spite my parents."

From the corner of my eye, I see his head turn to me, obviously not expecting that answer to his please-let's-make-small-talk-so-this-is-less-weird question. "Oh? Why? I mean, nice, but why?"

I smiled at his comment, "They're both lawyers and, obviously, wanted me to follow in their footsteps. I never had any interest in it and at first, they were, like, disappointed, but nothing extreme. And then as the years went by and I was closer to going to college, they became unbearable."

"Yeah, I feel that." He nodded, "You guys ever smooth it over?"

"Oh yeah, the whole thing culminated when I took a gap year after high school, and they never mentioned it again. They even ask me how my studies are going. Put on brave faces while listening about something that isn't law."

Harry grinned, even laughed a little, "Stick it to the man." I nodded back at his words, and he continued, "You took the gap year so they would stop nagging you about it?"

A door I had long ago sealed shut rattled in my head, for the first time in a while, but I was able to push it back and add another extra lock to it with a smile on my face. "Something like that." I took a deep breath before remembering that I had free will and I could change the subject, "What about you, why Sports Analytics?"

"Well, I didn't have any kind of pressure from my folks, at least when it came to my studies, so... I just picked something I liked." He shrugged, and it was enough to make me jealous of him. "I like football, I'd like to be a sports pundit. Or like a broadcaster on a sports show, anything where I can talk about it to an audience for a living."

"So TV work? That's cool."

"Yeah, that's the dream. I mean literally, it's my dream job."

"Definitely better than spite."

Harry laughed again, and this time our eyes met as I looked up to smile at him; his hair was a little damp from the light rain as he ran a hand through it to get it out of his face, kind of slicking it back in the process. It appeared a little darker as it wasn't completely dry, and I couldn't decide which looked better, blonde or whatever the damp hair color was. Somehow he looked good either way. "Is spite really the only reason you're majoring a whole major?"

"I had to study something."

"So? Why not something you like?"

"Well, I like painting but there's a trend where that starts paying off only after you're dead, so, I'm gonna write for whatever paper hires me by day and bust out my brushes at night."

"Painting? Really? With an easel and everything?"

"Mhm."

"That's fucking nice." His amazed voice earned a small laugh from me. "I couldn't draw a stick figure to save my life."

"I could teach you."

There was no doubt that something mortifying would pass my lips at some point during a conversation with a man whom I thought looked good with either dry hair or damp hair. Why the fuck wouldn't it. "I mean," I continued, quickly, before I could face whatever facial expression that keen suggestion had him making, "It's not hard, stick figures. The same way you could teach me to say 'Player one has passed the ball to player two'."

There was a pause, and suddenly the 'few minutes down the street' distance to my place had turned into a pilgrimage. "Okay," He finally responded, "Can you say... 'Player one has passed the ball to player two'?"

"...Player one has passed the ball to player two."

"There you go. Where's my stick figure lesson?"

I laughed in relief when he took the funny route, and my potentially witty but one hundred percent calamitous reply died on my tongue as his phone rang. "Uh." He struggled to get it out of his pocket, "um– sorry, give me a minute."

I only nodded in reply as he answered the call immediately, and I went back to looking at the sidewalk in front of me, my hands curled into fists inside my pockets. Suddenly I was aware of the weather all over again, as soon as I'd detached my thoughts from the man strolling by my side. Had to be one of the best distractions I'd had in a minute, hands down.

"Hey, you. Yeah. Yep, I'll be home soon, just walking a friend home. From college, yeah, I'll tell you all about it. Yeah, I'll call you in like, twenty minutes, more or less. Alright. Love you too. Bye." He checked his phone for another few seconds before stuffing it back in his pocket, "Sorry about that, that was my girlfriend."

"No worries."

"I always call her after class, but today, you know, I was more worried about you staying alive."

I rolled my eyes at that description, but still smiled, "No wonder she has to check up on you if you're everyone's protector."

"Well, yeah, it's hard being in a relationship with a superhero. Plus, she's back in Aspen and I'm here, so her struggles are colossal."

"Oh?" I looked at the side of his head again, tone changing from playful to curious, "Long distance? How come?"

"She's still in high school and obviously didn't want to move schools, so yeah, we've had to make it work." He turned his head to look at me and started laughing as soon as he saw my blank, open-mouthed stare. "Oh, come on, she's a senior. It's a two-year difference, don't look at me like that."

"Okay, see, next time, you can lead with that. Jesus Christ."

"You thought I was a weirdo? After I insisted on helping you escape another weirdo?"

"You can't be all perfect, this is not on me."

A silence ensued, and I looked over at him to see him smiling at his feet as we walked. So what if I complimented a taken man? It wasn't like I was hitting on him. Just complimenting the fact that he can hold a conversation that's not dry. And be funny and witty. And protective of people he's never met before without expecting anything in return. And have hair that looks good both dry and wet. Totally innocent.

And thank God, my building appeared just in time to save me from my own stupid mouth. "And... here we are."

He came to a halt at the same time that I did, and we were facing each other again like we had been on the bus. He looked up at the building I lived in, "This your place?"

"Yep."

"What's the rent around here?"

"Enough to not mind weirdos following me home." I smiled, but then paused to look him up and down, "And look!"

Harry rolled his eyes this time, but still couldn't fight off smiling as I stretched out both arms in his direction, acting as a point sign. "A simple thank you would've been enough, really."

"Hey, I'm just joking around. I had a nice time, actually, even kinda bummed that I didn't get to hear you talk about Tom Brady or whatever."

He nodded and shrugged, "If it means anything, I wouldn't have talked about Tom Brady anyway."

"Oh, you don't like him? It's because of Gisele, isn't it? I was disappointed, too."

"Yeah, I don't talk about him because of what he did to my girl Gisele, and also he doesn't play the football that I like."

He said it so casually that I almost missed it; before my brain could process any kind of reply, or even any kind of reaction—read: embarrassment—he had already raised a hand as if to silence me, "And now, before you inevitably ask me why I don't call it soccer, I will wish you a nice evening, and to stay safe, and... you know..."

He trailed off as I laughed, and smiled himself too. His good spirits and the smooth conversation flow had honestly made me forget that this guy had a life of his own and should have probably been returning to it. Not bantering here with me the whole evening. "Well, uh– thank you for everything, Harry. Really. This was the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me."

"You are very welcome." He smiled wider and did a stupid little bow. And then immediately afterward, he shook his head with a defeated face, "God, I don't know why I bowed. That just annihilated my cool image."

"It was pretty scandalous," I agreed in the same flat tone, "made me forget all about my football-type fiasco."

"Yeah, that's why I did it. That's why I bowed. To make you feel better about yourself, that's it."

"Thank you, Harry."

He smiled once again at my genuine tone, "See you in Professor Shepherd's, Evie."

"See you in class." We gave each other a lift of our hands as a kind of wave, and he turned around, heading toward the bus station we had come from. I watched him as he walked away, the way his arms and legs moved as he strolled until he disappeared from my view around another building, and in his absence, I remembered that it was still cold and that I was cold, and that I shouldn't be outside any more than I already was.

The elevator ride to my apartment was uneventful, but I felt like it was going to be a couple of hours before I could form an intelligible thought about that encounter and how it had gotten to it. My thoughts simultaneously all vanished and got so interlaced with one another that my whole brain just felt like mashed potato.

I locked the door behind myself, sighing in satisfaction as the first wave of inside warmth enveloped me. I took my shoes off and looked at my phone, with the idea of just scanning the notifications I'd had, but the plan changed as I saw multiple messages from my roommate. All of them right after I messaged her about being with Henry Moran.

From: Violet Roomie

what

bitch what????

harry moran??? tall blonde and handsome??

i volunteered with him last summer at the hospice, didn't know you two knew each other

if that's who yr talking about

is he majoring in sports or something

if that's him girl CLIMB THAT GOT DAMN TREE LMAO

Of course, he also volunteered.

I pursed my lips together, rereading the messages a few times, each time finding them funnier and myself sadder. I locked my phone and prepared myself for a nice shower, and then for ultimately disappointing my roommate—and myself, though I couldn't say that to her face—when I informed her that someone else was climbing that tree, after her inevitable demand for a rundown on the evening's events. Oh, well.