"What's wrong?" He asked.
I looked up to see a boy gazing at me with curiosity and a hint of concern. I recognised him at once.
"Oh, nothing really." I feigned. I didn't need another shoulder to cry on, least of all, his, and besides, boys like bubbly, smiling girls. I tried on a smile and I guess it was pretty convincing.
"Good," he said, smiling in return "It's too nice a day to be unhappy. I love finishing early on Fridays; having all this free time in the afternoon creates so many opportunities for adventure!"
If anything could cheer me up, it was the way his dark eyes sparkled when he smiled. I forced myself to be enthusiastic.
"I know, right? Just last week I had an adventure the likes of which bards will sing tales of!"
He chuckled and his bright blue fringe fell into his eyes, he swept it to one side. He took a seat on the bench next to me. He rested his elbows on his knees and turned toward me.
"Speaking of singing, how'd you like the show this morning?"
I'd been captivated. He was the only reason I'd even gone to see it, I wasn't normally into theatre but I was starting to reconsider. I'd never heard him sing before, in fact, now that I thought about it, I wasn't sure I'd even heard him speak before this morning and now here he was, speaking purely for my benefit.
"Yeah, I guess it was ok," I joked, "That protagonist was a bit of a ham though."
I think this comment surprised him because he laughed unexpectedly.
"Ha! Thanks," he said sarcastically. "I'll have you know I've only got one semester left until I'm Carter Whitehill, B. F. A."
"Bachelor of Fine Arts."
"Ah. Well I'm still a couple of years from having letters on the end of my name." I conceded.
"Which is…?" He inquired.
"Uhhh… B. Sci… Hopefully B. Sci Hons"
"Haha, no, I meant your name."
"Oh, right. Yeah, of course," I blushed, "Misha Crawford."
"Well Misha, I'm sure you'll make a fine scientist… Which is lucky because you've obviously got no future as a theatre critic." He teased.
He was certainly right about that. I stopped and wondered how he even knew that I'd been at the show this morning. It couldn't have been a guess, the show had not been a large scale production and many people had classes from 9 til 11. Could he have seen me in the audience? I didn't exactly stand out with my dark hair and dull clothes but if he had noticed me I knew he must've seen the captivation in my eyes. I blushed even deeper. No, surely I was getting ahead of myself, there had to be another explanation. A less conceited explanation.
"I'm joking," he added seriously, when he noticed my expression.
I snapped back to the present and quickly tried to salvage the mood.
"Haha, no, I know. I was just thinking about that scene where you confronted the maiden with your feelings for her. I mean, that poor girl… Nobody wants that sort of burden."
"Ouch!" He pretended he'd been pierced through the heart. "Guess I'll be going then." He made a move to leave.
"No, wait!" Somehow my voice sounded less panicked than I felt.
He sat down again and I noticed his pendant for the first time; a silver moon on a black cord. It rested just below his clavicle, flanked by the collar of his black shirt.
"Fine, but you owe me at least…" he contemplated, "THREE compliments by now. As an actor you must know I need… ahem," he put on a genteel British accent, "constant validation from my admiring fans."
I laughed, just glad he hadn't been serious about leaving.
"Well… umm… You can certainly hold a tune…"
"Go on…" He encouraged
"You're really friendly…" I acknowledged.
"Aaaannnddd… you're the cutest guy on campus." I confessed.
It was his turn to blush. I didn't think he had the ability to be speechless and it actually made me quite self-conscious. I felt a sense of urgency to fill the silence.
"It's the hair you see, I've always kinda had this thing for the colour blue and I mean, it kinda makes you stand out so when I see you around…" But I was probably making it worse. Luckily I glanced up to see him beaming at me. He opened his mouth to say something as my bus pulled into the station.
I board the bus and sit down in an empty seat by a window. An overwhelming emptiness sets in as I scour the bus station one last time for the boy with the blue hair. I spot him three stands over absorbed in a book, his white headphones cord stark against his black shirt. Perhaps next time I see him we'll discuss the book he's reading, or whatever it is he's listening to. Or perhaps we'll have this same conversation again; it does seem to be my favourite. Maybe next time we'll make it to the part where he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Or who knows, maybe next time he'll actually notice me and I'll finally get to meet the man of my daydreams.