Chris stared at the empty desk across from him, frowning. Taylor wasn't there. Not for the lecture. Not for the discussion. Not for their project partner check-in.
He tapped his pen against his notebook, pretending to take notes, but his mind kept wandering. She's never skipped class before…
By mid-morning, Chris was genuinely worried. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, debating whether to text her. Finally, he typed a quick message:
Chris: Hey. You okay? Didn't see you in class. Sick or something?
Minutes ticked by. No reply. His frown deepened. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe she just… didn't come today.
During break, he couldn't concentrate at all. Every time he looked at the empty desk, he felt a little pang in his chest. He thought about the way she laughed at his sarcastic comments, how stubborn she was, how… soft she sometimes got when she didn't realize he was watching.
He grabbed his backpack and left the classroom, deciding to check the library. Maybe she was hiding there, pretending to study, like last week.
"Taylor?" he called softly as he scanned the shelves.
No answer.
Chris ran a hand through his hair, a rare show of worry crossing his usually confident face. She's never missed class like this. Something must be wrong.
Finally, he sent another message, more insistent:
Chris: Seriously, Taylor. Text me back. I'm starting to worry.
As he put his phone down, he realized how much he hated not knowing what was going on with her. She annoyed him. Challenged him. Made him laugh. And now, without her around, the day just felt… wrong.
Chris leaned against the library wall, tapping his foot nervously. Where are you, Taylor?