The first thing he had noticed was her smile, and the way she almost seemed to hold the attention of every room she was in. They had barely exchanged as much as a proper glance during their first literature class together, but he wasn’t surprised. Whenever he felt she even looked vaguely in his direction, he felt himself turn away to pretend he was looking elsewhere.
He remembered that she had the most eloquent way of speaking, regardless of what she was talking about. It was almost staggering. He felt he could have listened to her for hours as she waxed lyrically about the superb nature of the prose, and the depth of the narrative. The fact that he had barely made it through the novel himself at that stage of the year was beside the point. Her passion for it alone spurred him on to finish it himself.
Looking back now he remembered when the tutor would propose a point for discussion, he would watch as the whole room would turn to rest on her every word. But what he loved most was her slight accent, and the way she would drop back into her native French dialect when leaving the room with her friends closely by her side, and how her neck would arch slightly when she laughed a little bit too vivaciously. It was always the little things that catch your attention, isn’t it?
He had wanted to speak to her so many times by that point, but something inside him had always stopped him from doing so. He knew exactly what it was, and it was the thought of sheer embarrassment on his part. What if she couldn’t understand his own thick Scottish accent? How embarrassing would that be. That didn’t stop him wondering about her though, whenever he was daydreaming during a lecture, or on his way on the bus back into town. What was her name for one thing? He wondered what the town she had grown up in was like, and what exactly had drawn her to here of all places?
Making his way across campus one day to his usual lecture theatre, he was stopped by a couple of classmates coming the other way. He was just about to cross the bridge that separated the university’s main atrium to another academic building, and the adjacent bus terminus, when they told him to turnaround. Class was cancelled for the afternoon apparently. No reason given. They seemed delighted, but he remembered feeling just a little deflated. After all, he had come all the way in for just that class.
Whilst they kept walking in the other direction, not even thinking to wait on him as they laughed and joked, he adjusted his weathered leather satchel bag over his shoulder and looked around himself, contemplating whether to go home right there or then.
It was then that their eyes had first met across the corridor. She smiled over to him, and, without a second thought, he waved back. It was the first time he had seen her on her own without her friends, and, to his surprise, she started to come across to him. It took every fibre of his being not to panic there on the spot.
As she slowly approached, he took in her long blond hair, almost the faintest of silver, and her short, dark blue overcoat that nearly matched his own. It had all happened so quickly that he almost didn’t realise what he was doing.
'Hi,' she said as she came closer, stepping out the way of an older man, undoubtedly a lecturer, who seemed to be in a hurry.
'Hey,' he stammered slightly, urging himself to smile meekly again at her. 'Umm…Have you heard? No class this afternoon.' He was surprised he had been able to muster up the courage to say anything at all.
'Oh, thank you!' she said, hesitating for just a moment before she went to leave. A gaggle of sport students in their matching Canterbury tracksuit bottoms and university hoodies barred her way, as they made their way to the Union for what he assumed was post-match drinks.
'Wait a second,' he replied. As she turned again to face him, he met her wide turquoise eyes, and not for the first time in his life, he felt a lump in his throat. 'Are you heading back to halls?'
She nodded and smiled that same beautiful, effervescent smile again that he had come to know so well.
'Great,' he said, trying to pull himself together. She giggled slightly at his clumsiness as they broke into step with one another. 'I’m Sam, by the way… I don’t think we’ve properly spoken. What’s your name again?'
'Celine…' she said, captivating him as she always did. 'My name’s Celine.'
Leaving the busyness of the atrium building behind them, they stepped outside on to the greenery of the campus and chatted whilst they crossed the bridge over Airthrey Loch, which sparkled in the mid-afternoon sunshine. In the background, the Ochil Hills provided an impressive backdrop to the rest of the university, and all of the other life that was happening all around them. A couple of swans made their way serenely through the water, whilst a jogger ran effortlessly past them by the well-worn pathway that necked around the banks of the water.
Reaching a fork in the pathway to her student halls, they eventually said goodbye after chatting for a few minutes more, and then she ascended the steps that led to her halls of residence. He stood there for a moment or two longer watching her leave, all the while hoping that she would look back.