Is it a Coincidence?

I slack towards my car after college, distracted by something someone said in class today. It was a casual comment on Wuthering Heights. A book I have read so many times yet every time I reach a different conclusion as to why they did what they did.

Some random discussion in the class today made me discover about another new possibility. I've almost reached the lot lost in my thoughts. I absentmindedly dive into my bag to fetch my car keys when I bump into someone. What is it with my clumsiness these days? I look up to find an irritated Miley Reed. Oh no!

"I am so sorry! I didn't see you there," I hastily apologize.

"Don't worry about it, I'll choose this any day over the spills of wine I get at parties," she says, surprising me with her response. I was expecting more of a teenage-ish outburst.

"That's no excuse, I am still sorry," I tell her while unlocking my car door.

"Come to the party and we're all good," she steps aside to unlock her car as well. I follow the mechanical beep and it opens the scratchless white Volvo S90 from the morning. So she is rich too!

I huff and start my own Toyota engine. That's usually how life works though. Who has something, tend to have it all. And who doesn't, they just don't.

I quickly dismiss this small sadness when I am reminded I'm headed towards the library. Now that's a pleasure everybody can share!

First I take a quick detour home to dump my school books and grab some others I need for my assignments. I grab a granola bar from the fridge and reshuffle my hair into a high bun on my way out.

The library is just a 10 minutes drive from where I live. I park my car in the wide space infront and hurry up the wide entrance stairs.

It's amazing how the crumbles of pages have this immediate effect on me. I need this whenever things tend to get overwhelming. And I've been needing this distraction for a while now. I inhale the papery smell of books and slowly walk towards the corner-most desk in the huge two storied library. It's always empty except my occasional visits. I sit here for reasons I never really dwelled on.

Dropping my bag, I walk to the tall, leveled bookshelves in search of some analytical book on Greek arts. Soon the silently engrossed people become even more invisible as I surf through the world of words.

I have found some reference books and an extra book on Greek mythology, for sake of interest. I am loaded with voluminous books in my hands when I'm walking back to my desk. That's when I crash into someone for the second time in the day and millionth time this week. The books all splatter on the wooden floor. I can't help cursing at myself this time. "What is wrong with me?" I groan and crouch on the floor to gather the books. It hurts to see them lying on the floor disrespectfully.

"Maybe you are just unstable after all." The words were enough in itself for me to recognise the person but it surprises me how instantly I remember the silky and controlled voice.

My body stops functioning. I can't make myself look up from the floor. I knew too surely that I would never have to come across him again in my life. Yet here he is, half sitting in front of me in a library I visit every weak.

I weakly look up and concentrate on fixing my faltering breaths. His face, even more beautiful than the last time, is stretched into that heavenly smile. He looks a little different today. His copper hair, unruly like the last time, is probably not gelled today. His olive skin is even and smooth like a stone sculpture. His gray eyes are brighter with the hazel hints more visible. He is wearing a black shirt, sleeves rolled up his elbow, showing off a glimpse of his veined muscular hands paired with loose white khaki pants. He looks casual, but still a Greek God. Suddenly I feel like my recent interest on Greek mythology is not completely a self driven interest. Maybe its because....NO! That has nothing to do with this man I saw once in my life before.

"I guess I'm sorry...again," I let out a sheepish apology and look back down to assemble the books. But he has already gathered them all tidily in his hands. When did he do that? Was I gawking at his face with that much singularity that I didn't even realise when he collected them all? The thought makes me nauseous.

"Thank you," I tell him and reach out to take the books. He dodges away from my reach and stands up instead, I follow. He is still eyeing me like I am an alien creature, it creeps me out with self consciousness. I reach out for the books again. He flinches away.

"Not so soon Eileen," he says, a grin covering his face. I am more than surprised that he remembered my name. Even I don't tend to remember ramdom names, and I don't get any celebrity attention at all.

"Why not? I have apologised and thanked you. It wasn't intentional." I just want to go to my desk and start reading. At least that's the affirmation I'm chanting inside my head.

He laughs, "Why do you apologize so much? It's okay to have trouble keeping balance." It's odd to hear these playful words in such a naturally authoritative tone. Which is weirder is that it seems like he is surprised by that too. As if he never heard himself talk like that! But it's so nice to hear it anyway. And I am forcefully stopping my over analysis right about now!

"Okay then I'm not sorry. Now please kindly give me back my books." I'm pleased to find that I sound almost irritated.

He glances down at the books and I bite my lips to see the book on top. It's a case study on Wuthering heights. I took it because of those theories about Catherine in college today. "So, you're a classics fan huh?"

"I'm a student of literature," I shrug, that should explain the love for classical brontë.

"I know that," he says still awfully observing me.

"How on earth?"

His smile stretches further, "Well, you are unstable and predictable." That does the job, I am actually irritated now.

"So you are a fan of insulting strangers who bumps into you accidentally?" I accuse, lifting an eyebrow.

His smile disappears, but his face is still a little mocking with gray eyes playful. "I'm sorry if you think I'm insulting you, I just find you.... interesting."

"Quite a contradiction to the fact that you find me predictable, don't you think?"

Before he could say anything back someone tries to pass through us, I realize we are standing in the middle of bookshelves, obstructing other's passage.

"Would you mind sitting with me?" He asks but there was a rhetorical edge to his politeness. As if he knows I will say yes.

"Yes!" I say.

He looks at me with mock confusion, "Yes, you would mind or yes, you would sit with me?" He asks, knowing all too well that it's the second one. Instead of answering, I just roll my eyes and walk back to my corner seat.