Chapter Three : Strictly for Academic Purposes

Martin had June's phone number.

Before anyone gets excited, this was not a romantic achievement.

There had been no smooth flirting.

No dramatic exchange of numbers.

No give me your number, maybe? followed by shy smiles.

Martin had obtained it through academics.

Which, if you knew Martin, was probably the most predictable route possible.

And now her name sat quietly in his contacts.

June.

Martin looked at it.

Then locked his phone.

Then unlocked it.

Looked again.

Still there.

Wonderful.

Now came the slightly more difficult part.

Actually texting her.

Fortunately, Martin had something better than courage.

He had unfinished lab work.

There were a few pages in the lab record that he needed.

Specific pages.

Important pages.

Academically essential pages.

And June had them.

Martin opened the chat.

This time, he didn't spend twenty minutes deciding between Hi and Hello.

Only seven.

Progress.

Finally, he typed.

Hi... do you have the lab record?

He sent it.

Then waited.

June replied a few minutes later.

Yeah. Why?

Martin sat a little straighter.

Can you send me photos of some pages?

Which pages?

Martin sent the page numbers.

June opened her lab book, found the pages and clicked the photographs.

One.

Two.

Three.

Martin's phone began vibrating.

He opened the pictures.

Clear.

Perfect.

Useful.

He should have said thank you and ended the conversation.

That would have been normal.

Martin had never been particularly interested in normal since June walked into his classroom.

Thank you.

June replied with a simple:

👍

Conversation over.

Or so June thought.

The next day, Martin discovered another page he needed.

Pure coincidence.

Obviously.

Martin: Hi... can you send page 32 also?

June sent it.

Thanks.

The day after that—

Martin: Sorry 😅 page 37?

June stared at her phone.

She looked at the lab book.

Then at the message.

Then back at the lab book.

This boy's academic needs were growing at an alarming rate.

Still, she sent it.

The following evening, Martin opened the chat again.

He typed:

Can you send—

Then stopped.

Even Martin had standards.

He looked at the previous messages.

Page 28.

Page 32.

Page 37.

At this rate, he was going to make June photograph the entire lab book one page at a time.

Martin stared at the chat.

A thought entered his mind.

A very practical thought.

A highly intelligent thought.

And, for once, a thought that didn't involve analysing June's punctuation.

Can I take your lab book tomorrow?

June read the message.

Why?

I'll take printouts of the pages I need.

A pause.

Then another message appeared.

Instead of disturbing you for photos every day 😂

June smiled.

At least he was self-aware.

Okay.

Martin stared at the reply.

Okay.

Such a small word.

Martin was beginning to develop an unhealthy emotional relationship with June's short replies.

The next day, June handed him her lab book.

"Don't lose it."

Martin looked mildly offended.

"I won't."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

June narrowed her eyes.

Martin held the book carefully.

"Your lab book is safe with me."

June looked at him for another second.

"Okay."

And walked away.

Martin looked down at the book.

His friend, sitting nearby, watched the entire exchange.

"Why are you smiling?"

Martin immediately stopped smiling.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I needed this for printouts."

"Okay."

"It's academic."

"I didn't ask."

Martin opened the lab book.

"Strictly academic."

His friend nodded slowly.

"Of course."

Martin ignored him.

Because it was academic.

He genuinely needed the pages.

He genuinely planned to take printouts.

And he genuinely had no ulterior motive.

Probably.

But the lab book had achieved something Martin hadn't.

It had given him a reason to text June.

And once the first awkward messages were out of the way, the next ones became easier.

A question about class.

A complaint about an assignment.

A random observation.

Then—

Did you eat?

June stared at the message.

That was not related to the lab.

She replied anyway.

Yeah.

A few minutes later—

You?

Martin smiled.

That was not related to the lab either.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

The lab book would eventually be returned.

The printouts would eventually be taken.

The pages would stop being needed.

But somehow—

the messages didn't stop.

And neither of them noticed exactly when they ran out of academic excuses.

They simply kept talking.

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