Chapter 2 (Part Two)

That evening, Hanson called me out and opened with, "You did well today. Your Spanish pronunciation was flawless."

I suspected he was mocking me and had the evidence to prove it.

"Sorry for embarrassing you by not advancing."

"You didn't really embarrass me. Your voice cracking and going off-key weren't my teachings; those are your self-taught skills."

I was dumbfounded.

With such a sharp tongue, he must be friendless.

Seeing me at a loss for words, he seemed a bit cheerier and handed me a tote bag.

"What's this?" I asked shyly, "It's one thing to ask for your help with Spanish, and another to accept gifts from you. How can I possibly accept this?"

Though I said I shouldn't, I couldn't help but unwrap the package.

Inside was a giant thermos, big enough to hold about four bottles of soda.

My expression stiffened. "You... gave me a thermos?"

He stiffened for a moment. "Ah, this is a consolation prize the student council prepared for everyone who was eliminated. You forgot to take it when you left."

"Oh," I mumbled, hugging the massive thermos. "Thanks, Hanson." Then I turned to leave.

I thought to myself, the student council sure knows how to kick someone when they're down. Not only did they eliminate me, but they also went out of their way to deliver this gigantic thermos?

That night, as I sighed heavily looking at the cup, my roommate Paula came over to inquire about my day.

After hearing the story, she slapped her thigh in disbelief. "What consolation prize? Our student council is so stingy; they'd never hand out comfort gifts!"

Something didn't add up, so I texted Landen, and he called back immediately. "A consolation prize? The singing contest was your assignment, not mine. Don't try to scam me!"

That miserly attitude was definitely typical of our department.

I was puzzled. "If it really was Hanson who bought it, why wouldn't he admit it?"

"You made it sound like a joke gift, how could he admit it!"

I realized he had a point. My mouth had run away with me again.

But then I was lost in thought again. Why was Hanson teaching me Spanish and giving me gifts? What was his angle?

Finally, Paula laid out the truth. "Hanson must like you and wants to pursue you."

This theory was unanimously agreed upon by my other roommates, and a tiny spark of hope flickered within me. I was nervous, "Gosh, I hope Hanson didn't think I disliked his gift and give up on pursuing me."

To prove I caught Hanson's drift, from that day on, wherever I went, the giant thermos was in my backpack.

True to the saying, effort pays off. A few days later, during a committee meeting, Hanson finally showed up and, ignoring everyone else, took the seat next to me.

My cheeks flushed as I pulled out the thermos from my bag and poured him a hot drink, showing my loyalty. "Hanson, this cup you gave me is really handy. I drink a lot of water, and I just needed a cup like this."

"The meeting might run late today, and the hallway lights might be off. Are you afraid of the dark?"

His question caught me off guard, and after I nodded, he added, "Then you can message me if you need to go to the restroom."

Was he implying that because I drank a lot, I'd need to pee a lot, and if I was scared, I could call him?

He was mocking me again!

And once again, I had proof!

I opened my mouth, then closed it and sealed the cup. "Well, thanks for that."

03

To get ready for the upcoming track and field tryouts, I made plans with my roommate to run on the track one evening. Just our luck, we bumped into Hanson playing basketball.

My roommate couldn't help but admire Hanson's athletic form contrasted against the other athletes, who were taking a break under the sun, giving him a striking presence.

I had to agree; it was his athleticism and grace that had captured my attention in the first place.

Paula nudged me to make a move, reminding me that you have to fight for love. It made sense, so blushing, I bought a bottle of Gatorade and waited by the basketball court to offer him a drink.

Hanson noticed me. "Running?"

"Yeah, prepping for the fitness tryouts."

"Wait for me."

Before I could grasp what he meant by that, a basketball flew straight at my face. Hanson was quick to block it with his hand, catching the ball with ease.

He casually tossed it back into the hoop.

A three-pointer!

The smooth sequence triggered a wave of cheers from the sidelines, and Paula squeezed my hand tightly. "You alright?"

Still processing Hanson's impressive reflexes, I shook my head in admiration.

After grabbing the drink I offered, Hanson waved to his teammates goodbye and came back. "Let's go, I'll run with you."

Paula winked at me, whispering, "This is in the bag."

Flushed with embarrassment but encouraged by his initiative, I ventured, "Do you play basketball every evening? Your moves looked pretty professional. Thanks to you, or else my face would've been wrecked."

I was trying to make conversation, while Hanson jogged beside me at a steady pace. "You shouldn't talk while running."

Alright, then.

After five laps, I was gasping for air, waving my hands frantically. "Can't do this anymore, I'm dead."

"What's the time you need to qualify?" Hanson asked.

"3 minutes 20 seconds," I gasped, still catching my breath. "I'm just aiming to qualify, not breaking records."

"Our team has a tradition of excellence; no one just 'qualifies'. Let's run a few more laps tomorrow."

His offer brightened my spirits – more time with him under the guise of training?

Typical guy move.

Before I could respond gracefully, he quipped, "You look athletic enough; shouldn't be this out of breath from running."

Athletic?

Was he actually talking about me?

I underestimated how seriously Hanson took his commitments. Every evening at 7, like clockwork, he was downstairs waiting for me to run.

Even my roommates thought I was about to enter a relationship – if I weren't the person involved, I might've believed them too.

Over time, I realized Hanson was different from other guys. Most would invite a girl to run as a pretext for a date. Not Hanson. For him, it was all about the run! No stargazing, no moonlit walks – just a quick sprint and then a push to get back and shower.

I wanted a boyfriend, not a coach. What good was running fast unless you were aiming for the Olympics?