Work Text:
Today marks the twenty-third day that Stella has consumed slightly-too-burnt pancakes in a hurry, swallowing the gross, crunchy texture before sliding into the library to claim specifically the third computer from the door. She logs into her term paper, types maybe three or four real words, then he comes in.
Black hair, handsomely wide face, and fantastic style with a blue button up. Chandler Wolosenko enters the library, assignment in hand and a different friend with him each day. Today, he talks with a girl in a pink top, engrossed in a conversation about chess.
“I'm actually a chess pro,” Chandler claims, to which his friend nods, wide-eyed.
He's so smart. Stella halts typing to listen, chin perched on her warm, sweaty palms and barely stopping herself from smiling. Last time he was here he said he was incredible at painting. The time before he said he'd never painted before, but had started to work out. He has such an intriguing, random set of skills, she can't help but blush blue at how talented he is.
Chandler is always surrounded by other friends, usually of the female earthling variety. In some simlish movies, Stella has observed that some human males do this to impress the woman they truly want. He probably thinks he's being clever about it, talking to his pink-shirt friend. But Stella knows better. She almost makes eye contact with him, flustering and gaze darting away before getting a chance to stare into his probably blue eyes. Oh well, sim-men love the chase, or so she's heard.
The university library isn't the only place they've almost had a meet cute. Stella has been in line beside him twice when waiting for food at the dining hall, one time brushing against him accidentally in a near salacious interaction. His ‘sorry’ was so cute! They've passed each other on the way to class heaps, although Stella has been too shy to wave to him each time, instead waving behind his back when they pass. She's sure he gets it.
The library has always been the closest meeting chance. He passes her table often, sometimes he even sits beside her (since this is the chair right next to the desk he often studies at with his friends - he'll have to notice how studious she's been, especially when it comes to studying him!)
One thing that Stella has never been able to work out about him, which truly perplexes her, is what his major is. She's been dutifully studying physics ever since landing on earth, impressed at its stronger gravity and layered atmosphere. But his class schedule seems to change constantly, appearing in and out of every other lecture. Every class except for physics. Which Stella can't help but wonder if he's avoiding her purposely at this point. Is this some weird form of human flirting, despite the obvious connection they've formed by their close physical presence to one another? She steals a look up at him, chatting closely to his friend about painting. He doesn't even almost make eye contact with her this time. What is happening?
She huffs, running a finger over her keyboard, adding another gibberish line of text to her document. It's so hard being the only alien girl in La Fiesta Tech. Her alien friends back home don't understand human love, suggesting she abduct him and scan his brains the old fashioned way. But they don't see the careful para-social relationship they've formed via almost eye contact. She can't risk erasing something as special as that.
An overwhelming scent of cologne snaps her out of her thoughts. The chair beside her creaks and her heart skips a beat as Chandler himself sits down, typing on the thick, yellowed keyboard to log in. She pauses, hands hovering over her own keyboard as he signs in, booting up a word document and waiting patiently for the slow-sim computer to finish loading. Her breath is warm and her heart hammers in her chest. His closeness is so incredibly thrilling. This is so much more exciting than their scandalous shoulder brushes in the dining hall.
He’s such a tease. She steals more glances at him, the cute bump in his nose, his definitely-blue eyes, the soft pink in his cheeks that some sims get. She exhales at the same time as him, which she’s pretty sure is at least ‘second-base’, as sims call it, and focuses on her computer screen again. Only to be interrupted by the creak of his chair as Chandler devilishly leans in closer to her, his breath warm and a half-smile twitching at the corner of his thick lips.
“Uh, hey, do you know what time the lecture for physics is?”
At this she stares directly into his eyes, eyebrows raised high, and croaks “9am.”
“Thanks,” he says, returning to his computer.
Stella exhales shakily. This is her chance, he has officially confirmed their courtship. They’re going to be together forever, work out what major Chandler wants to do, have the cutest sim/alien hybrid babies, and have their bones shot up into space as one as all true lovers do. All she has to do is reciprocate.
She breathes in, chest full of air, and with a steady, only slightly squeaky voice, she confirms their new, forever-union, “you’re welcome.”