CHAPTER TWO : The Accidental Rescue Mission

June had a problem.

Technically, the problem wasn't hers.

It belonged to her friend.

June had simply adopted it.

Her friend was popular.

Not normal-person popular.

Not people smile at you in the hallway popular.

She was the kind of popular where walking from one classroom to another could somehow become a public event.

Someone was always calling her name.

Someone always wanted to talk.

Someone needed notes.

Someone needed help.

Someone had a very important question that, suspiciously, could only be asked when no other girls were standing nearby.

And then there were the boys.

June had opinions about the boys.

Most of those opinions were not kind.

She had watched enough of them suddenly become interested in subjects they had ignored for an entire semester.

“Hey, did you finish the assignment?”

“Can you explain this topic?”

“Which page did sir say?”

“Do you have an extra pen?”

June had once watched a boy ask her friend for the time.

While holding his phone.

In his hand.

The screen was on.

June had stared at him so hard he eventually walked away.

So yes.

June was suspicious.

Maybe slightly overprotective.

Fine.

Very overprotective.

But someone had to be.

Her friend clearly had the survival instincts of a friendly golden retriever.

She assumed everyone was nice.

June assumed everyone needed background verification.

Together, they maintained balance in the universe.

Which was exactly why June noticed Martin talking to her.

---

It happened a few days after Martin had learnt June's name.

The class was noisy.

The professor hadn't arrived yet, and everyone was using those precious unsupervised minutes responsibly.

By shouting.

Martin stood near June's friend.

He had a notebook in one hand.

His laboratory record was incomplete.

This bothered Martin deeply.

An incomplete lab record sat in his mind like an unpaid electricity bill.

He had missed a few practical sessions because he'd joined college late, and now he needed the earlier work.

There was one obvious person to ask.

June's friend.

She had been the first person in class to speak to him.

When Martin had arrived four weeks late, carrying the expression of a man who had accidentally walked into the middle of a television series during season three, she had talked to him.

She'd explained a few things.

Told him which professor taught which subject.

Warned him about one particular lecturer's habit of giving surprise questions.

Most importantly, she had made him feel slightly less like an intruder.

So Martin felt comfortable asking her things.

That morning, he walked towards her desk.

“Hey.”

She looked up.

“Hi, Martin.”

“Do you have the lab workbook?”

“Which one?”

“The practical record. I need the work from before I joined.”

“Oh.”

She began searching through her bag.

Martin waited.

That was it.

That was the entire conversation.

Painfully academic.

Tragically innocent.

There was more chemistry inside the laboratory workbook than there was between Martin and the girl standing in front of him.

Unfortunately, June was watching from across the room.

And June did not have subtitles.

She saw Martin walk towards her friend.

She saw him smile.

She saw her friend smile back.

Then her friend started searching inside her bag while Martin continued standing there.

June narrowed her eyes.

Oh, for God's sake.

Another one.

She had noticed Martin before.

The quiet boy with glasses.

The one who sat near the window.

The one who occasionally looked in her direction and immediately developed a sudden, passionate interest in his notebook.

June hadn't thought much about him.

Until now.

She watched him talking to her friend.

So that's why.

June sighed.

Her friend was still searching through her bag.

Martin said something.

Her friend laughed.

June's suspicion immediately upgraded itself to certainty.

He's flirting.

Martin had actually said, “I think sir hates incomplete records.”

And June's friend had replied, “Sir hates everyone equally.”

Truly.

Scandalous behaviour.

June stood up.

She walked towards them.

Martin noticed her coming.

His brain, which had been functioning perfectly until that moment, immediately became less reliable.

June stopped beside her friend.

“What do you need?”

Martin blinked.

There were many possible answers to this question.

Unfortunately, Martin's brain briefly suggested you.

He mentally slapped himself.

“The lab workbook,” he said.

June looked at him.

Then at her friend.

Then back at Martin.

Of course.

The workbook.

The classic.

June had heard every variation of this nonsense.

Notes.

Assignments.

Books.

Pens.

Apparently, romance in college was heavily dependent on stationery.

“I have it,” June said.

Martin paused.

“Oh.”

June opened her bag.

Her friend finally pulled out her own workbook.

“Found it—”

“I'll give him mine,” June said.

Her friend looked at her.

Martin looked at her.

June looked completely normal.

At least, she believed she did.

Inside her head, she was escorting a suspicious individual away from a protected civilian.

Her friend slowly put her workbook back.

“Okay…”

June pulled out her record book and held it towards Martin.

“Here.”

Martin stared at it.

Then at June.

“You can take it,” she said.

Martin accepted the book.

“Thanks.”

June smiled.

It was polite.

Controlled.

Professional.

The smile of a woman who believed she had successfully handled a security situation.

“You're welcome.”

Martin smiled back.

June's eyes narrowed almost invisibly.

Why is he smiling like that?

Martin, meanwhile, was experiencing a completely different reality.

She gave me her book.

That was his thought.

Nothing intelligent followed it.

Just that.

She gave me her book.

Martin looked down at the record in his hands.

June's name was written on the cover.

He already knew her name.

Still, seeing it written there made something strange happen inside his chest.

He looked up.

June had already turned towards her friend.

Martin walked back to his seat.

His friend glanced at the workbook.

“Whose is that?”

“June's.”

Martin tried to sound casual.

He failed so badly that it should have been studied academically.

His friend looked at him.

Then at June.

Then back at Martin.

“Oh.”

Martin opened the workbook.

“Don't.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You made a sound.”

“It was a normal sound.”

“It wasn't.”

His friend smiled.

Martin ignored him.

Across the room, June sat beside her friend.

Her friend leaned closer.

“Why did you give him yours?”

June looked at her.

“What?”

“I had mine.”

“I know.”

“So?”

June lowered her voice.

“He was talking to you.”

Her friend stared at her.

“Yes.”

“For a long time.”

“It was thirty seconds.”

June ignored this unnecessary mathematical correction.

“He wanted your book.”

“Yes.”

“So I gave him mine.”

Her friend remained silent.

Then slowly smiled.

June immediately disliked that smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you know something.”

Her friend shrugged.

“I don't.”

June stared at her.

Her friend stared back.

Then she started laughing.

June frowned.

“What?”

“You thought he was flirting with me.”

“No.”

“You did.”

“I did not.”

“You rescued me.”

“I gave him a book.”

“You rescued me with educational material.”

June rolled her eyes.

“Shut up.”

Her friend continued laughing.

June looked across the classroom.

Martin was copying something from her workbook.

Quiet.

Focused.

His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose.

He pushed them back without looking up.

June watched him for two seconds.

Then looked away.

Still suspicious.

Definitely suspicious.

---

Martin finished the laboratory work faster than necessary.

This had absolutely nothing to do with June.

Martin told himself this repeatedly.

He simply liked completing work on time.

That was all.

It was pure academic responsibility.

The fact that finishing the record meant he had a legitimate reason to speak to June again was completely irrelevant.

Entirely coincidental.

Martin finished copying the last section.

Closed June's workbook.

Then stared at the cover.

He needed to return it.

Simple.

Walk over.

Give her the book.

Say thank you.

Leave.

Martin had successfully completed laboratory examinations more complicated than this interaction.

He stood.

Then sat back down.

His friend looked at him.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You stood up.”

“I changed my mind.”

“About standing?”

Martin glared at him.

His friend wisely returned to his work.

Two minutes later, Martin stood again.

This time, he walked towards June.

June saw him coming.

Her first thought was immediate.

Here we go.

Martin stopped near her desk.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I finished the work.”

He held out the workbook.

June looked at it.

“Okay.”

Martin gave it to her.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

There.

Conversation complete.

Martin should have walked away.

He knew this.

June knew this.

The universe knew this.

Martin remained standing.

June looked up.

Martin looked down.

Silence.

June waited.

Martin's brain searched desperately for something useful.

Then it found an idea.

It was not a good idea.

“Can I get your number?”

June stared at him.

There it was.

June almost wanted to applaud herself.

I knew it.

Martin saw her expression change.

His survival instincts activated.

“For the book.”

June looked at the book.

The book was currently in her hands.

Martin followed her eyes.

He realised the problem.

Right.

The book had been returned.

The book could no longer assist him.

Martin continued anyway because apparently humiliation was a journey and he had already purchased the ticket.

“I mean… if I need it again.”

June stared.

Martin wished the floor would open.

Nothing happened.

College infrastructure failed him once again.

June leaned back slightly.

In her head, every previous suspicion was standing up and clapping.

Of course he wanted her number.

First her friend.

Now her.

Interesting strategy.

June almost said no.

Then she looked at Martin.

He looked genuinely nervous.

Not smooth.

Not confident.

Not even remotely good at whatever June thought he was attempting.

Actually, he looked like he regretted every decision that had brought him to this exact desk.

June sighed internally.

Fine.

It was just a phone number.

If he became irritating, blocking people was one of modern civilisation's greatest achievements.

“Okay.”

Martin blinked.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

June held out her hand.

“Phone.”

Martin gave it to her so quickly he nearly dropped it.

June typed her number.

Saved it.

Then handed the phone back.

“There.”

Martin looked at the screen.

Her number.

Actually there.

“Thanks.”

June nodded.

Martin walked away.

He kept his face perfectly normal.

Calm.

Controlled.

Mature.

He reached his seat.

Sat down.

Unlocked his phone.

Looked at the number.

Locked it.

Three seconds passed.

He unlocked it again.

Still there.

Excellent.

His friend looked at him.

“Why are you smiling?”

Martin immediately stopped smiling.

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“No.”

“You look stupid.”

“Thank you.”

Martin put his phone face-down on the desk.

Across the classroom, June glanced at him.

She saw Martin's friend saying something.

Martin shoved him lightly.

June shook her head.

Definitely suspicious.

Martin, meanwhile, stared at his phone.

He now had June's number.

The girl with the brown eyes.

The girl he had spent days convincing himself was completely out of his league.

The girl who, unknown to him, had originally given him her workbook because she thought he was bothering her friend.

Neither of them understood the situation correctly.

June thought Martin was some kind of confused flirt.

Martin thought June had been unusually kind to him.

Both were wrong.

And somehow, despite all that misunderstanding, Martin now had her phone number.

He looked at the clock.

Then at his phone.

One question immediately occupied his entire mind.

How long should a normal person wait before texting a girl?

Five minutes felt desperate.

Ten minutes felt obvious.

An hour felt calculated.

Tomorrow felt rude.

Martin frowned.

Love, he was beginning to realise, involved an unreasonable amount of mathematics.

Across the classroom, June had already forgotten about the number.

Martin would think about it for the next six hours.

And that was probably the first sign of how this story was going to go.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***