In My Imagination

I dropped my head onto the cafeteria table, my cheek pressing against my developmental biology textbook. 

“Don’t you think it’s medically concerning that everyone has a boyfriend except me? My life is so bland and boring.”

Across from me, my best friend Carrie just rolled her eyes, expertly stealing a fry from my plate. Around us, the rest of our seven-person friend group was arguing loudly about where to eat dinner later.

“You’re just busy and buried in fifth-year Bio stress,” Carrie said, chewing thoughtfully. “You literally spent three hours yesterday trying to remember why the 72-hour chick embryo is s-shaped and not c-shaped. I don’t think that leaves a lot of room for romance.”

She was right. Between my upcoming exams and my oral presentations, my brain was running on fumes and iced matcha. Worse, my budget was running just as low.

“You third years also don’t have that much time, but Mikee has a boyfriend.”

“Well, Mikee is a genius. She can oversleep and still get a 99 on an exam.”

I let out a long breath and pulled my phone out. I was scrolling aimlessly through the university bulletin board when a post from the College of Economics caught my eye: Participants needed for behavioral simulation. Cash incentive provided.

I don’t have time for a boyfriend anyway, I thought to myself, clicking the link. But I do have time on Friday for a cash incentive.

I quickly filled out the registration form. It was easy money, and I needed the extra budget.

Friday morning, however, started with chaos. I forgot to turn my alarms on and overslept!

I was practically jogging across the campus courtyard, clutching my tote bag, trying to map out the fastest route to the Economics building. I rounded a corner too fast and bumped hard into a solid shoulder.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, stepping back instantly, my ears burning.

I looked up to offer a proper apology and stalled.

Wow, this guy’s kinda cute. He was tall, wearing a crisp, casual button-down that gave off a distinct aura. With the slightly messy hair and sharp features, he looked exactly like that Korean actor from the drama I watched with Carrie last month.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice calm.

I gave a quick, polite nod, mumbled another rushed apology, and hurried off toward the Econ building. I didn’t have time to admire handsome strangers, nor did I want to stick around after making a fool of myself.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in a sterile computer lab, clicking through the behavioral simulation. It was wonderfully quiet, except for the faint clicking and typing from the other participants. My shoulders finally dropped. I was just getting into the rhythm of the task when the heavy door to the lab clicked open.

I glanced up. It was the guy from the courtyard.

He walked in carrying a stack of clipboards, casually talking to the lead professor. It turns out he was part of the research team. My stomach did a weird, tiny flip. I immediately slid an inch lower in my seat, keeping my head down and my focus glued to my screen. I focused entirely on my breathing, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me as the girl who nearly tackled him twenty minutes ago.

Still, from the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but notice his demeanor. He was calm, efficient, and had this effortlessly cool vibe as he moved around the room assisting the professor.

When the simulation finally ended, the professor announced that the assistants would pass around the exit questionnaires. I waited quietly at my desk, keeping my hands neatly folded in my lap, as he started walking down my aisle.

He stopped at my desk. I kept my eyes on the clipboard as he handed it to me, but when I reached out to take it, I finally glanced up.

He wasn’t just doing it mechanically. He looked right at me, recognition flashing in his dark eyes, and gave me a brief, genuine smile.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice a little quieter than usual.

It was a tiny, fleeting moment, but that smile stuck in my head the entire walk to the administration desk to collect my cash incentive.

Later that afternoon, when I finally met up with Carrie and the rest of the group at our usual spot, I dropped my tote bag onto the table with a heavy sigh.

“Good news,” I announced, pulling a crisp bill from my pocket. “I got paid.”

“How was it?” Carrie asked.

“It was fine. I saw the absolute cutest researcher today. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again in this lifetime though.” I shook my head, pulling out my notes from class. “Whatever. Back to reality.”

Carrie leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Define cutest.”

I groaned, dropping into my seat. “Why does it matter? It’s irrelevant. He’s irrelevant.”

“That’s not what she asked,” Kierra said, nudging my arm. “We need details, Rie. Height? Vibe? Face card?”

I hesitated, which was already an answer.

The rest of the group went quiet in that annoyingly synchronized way they always did when gossip was involved.

“Tall,” I admitted. “Like… not just tall, but…” I gestured vaguely in the air. “proportionally tall. And he had this whole calm thing going on. Like nothing in his life has ever been late or crammed or submitted two minutes before the deadline.”

Carrie squinted at me. “You bumped into him and already decided your incompatibility?”

“I didn’t decide anything,” I said, flipping open my notes a little too aggressively. “I’m just being realistic. The study was a one-time thing. And it was in partnership with a university in Japan. If he’s part of the research team, that means he’s probably a student there. Meaning he’s only here temporarily.”

I shrugged, like it didn’t matter.

“So yeah,” I concluded, forcing a casual tone. “Statistically, the probability of ever seeing him again is close to zero.”

“Wow,” Mikee said. “You really turned a crush into a research conclusion.”

I ignored her and focused on rewriting my notes, even though my brain stubbornly refused to cooperate. The words blurred together, morphing into a very unhelpful image of a slight smile and dark eyes.

It was stupid. I barely knew him. I didn’t even know his name.

“Hey,” Terra said, snapping me out of it. “Dinner. What’s your final answer, guys? Wings or samgyeopsal?”

I stared at the table, mentally calculating.

“How much is everyone willing to spend?” I asked. “Samgyeopsal has unlimited servings but is expensive. Wings are not unlimited but are less expensive.”

“I think we should start saving,” Yanna said.

“Wings it is,” Kierra declared, and just like that, the moment passed.

That was the thing about our group. We moved quickly. We were all indecisive in general, but everything always slid forward without much resistance. It made things easy.

By the time I got home that night, my energy had completely drained.

Two weeks later, the mystery researcher was officially filed away in the ‘Irrelevant’ folder of my brain. I was drowning in reviewers for my exams, my desk a chaotic landscape of highlighted notes and half-empty coffee cups.

“There’s a university-wide fundraising party,” Keisha announced on a Thursday afternoon, sliding a glossy flyer across the cafeteria table. “Hosted by the Business Ad org. Tomorrow night. Is everyone free?”

“I’m free,” Mikee said.

Yanna checked her phone and nodded. “Me too.”

“Does the ticket cover the catered buffet or just the entrance?” I asked, barely looking up from my laptop screen.

“I think it covers everything,” Carrie said, scanning the flyer. “I’m going if you’re going.”

“Of course I’m going. These events don’t happen very often.” I grinned.

The party, held in one of the open-air university pavilions, was exactly what one would expect from a campus fundraiser. It was crowded, the bass from the speakers was vibrating against my ribs, and the air was thick with the humidity of hundreds of students talking over each other.

My friends immediately dissolved into the crowd, spotting familiar faces from their block. I stayed with them for the first hour, nodding along to conversations, but eventually, the noise level started to scrape at the inside of my skull.

Seeking a brief pocket of peace, I navigated my way toward the back of the pavilion where the catering tables were set up. It was significantly quieter here. I grabbed a small plate, inspecting the row of chafing dishes. Most of them were picked clean, including the one that clearly used to hold my favorite dish from tonight’s catering, the roast beef with creamy mushroom sauce.

I let out a quiet sigh of disappointment and leaned against the edge of the table, deciding to just wait for the catering staff to bring out the next batch.

“Are you waiting for the refill, too?”

The voice came from my left. It was deep and effortlessly carrying over the distant thump of the music.

I turned my head.

My breath hitched slightly in my throat. It was the researcher I had a crush on. He was wearing a dark, well-fitted shirt this time, holding a plastic cup, and looking at the empty food tray.

“Yes,” I managed to say in the most respectful tone, my grip tightening slightly on my paper plate. “They said it would just be a minute.”

He nodded, leaning casually against the table beside me. “Good to know. The food lines out there are a nightmare.”

I gave him a small smile, my brain scrambling to process the situation. So he wasn’t a student from that Japanese university? He’s from this university?

“What year are you?” I blurted out, my mouth moving faster than my brain.

He looked at me, a slight, confused smile forming. “I’m taking my Master’s in Economics. Second year. Why? Do I still look like an undergraduate?”

I felt a rush of warmth hit my cheeks. I desperately wanted to look away, but my mouth was already moving. “Sorry, that was too random. I just... I think I saw you a couple of weeks ago. In a research study?”

He tilted his head, his dark eyes studying my face for a second. Then, a spark of genuine surprise and recognition lit up his expression.

“Oh, really?” he said, his smile widening into something softer. “The behavioral simulation. Were you one of the participants? That must be why I thought you looked a bit familiar too.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, a small, involuntary smile tugging at my own lips. “Small world.”

“Very small,” he agreed, shifting slightly so he was fully facing me, completely ignoring the catering staff who had just arrived to swap out the empty tray. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone from the study at a Business Ad fundraiser.”

The staff member cleared his throat softly, nudging a fresh, steaming tray of roast beef onto the chafing stand between us.

He stepped back, gesturing politely for me to go first. I quickly scooped a generous serving onto my plate, trying not to look too eager. He followed suit.

“So,” he said, a low chuckle in his voice as he reached for the serving spoon. “Are you an Econ major too, or did you just come for the incentive?”

I laughed, the sound slipping out easier than I expected. “Definitely the incentive. I’m a fifth-year Biology major, actually. I just happened to see the announcement and decided... why not?”

“Ah,” he nodded, understanding flashing across his features. “So you’re in your thesis year. That explains the need for quick cash and free buffet food.”

“Exactly,” I said, relaxing a fraction more. The intimidation factor of him being a grad student was melting away into the casual steam of the buffet line. “I actually just submitted my thesis last term.”

He smiled, stepping away from the table so the next person in line could pass. “Wow, congratulations on finishing your thesis, then.”

Over his shoulder, across the pavilion, I saw Keisha waving her hand frantically, trying to catch my attention over the crowd. I guess my time in the quiet zone was up.

I sighed, gesturing vaguely toward the sea of students. “Thanks. I should probably get back to my friends.”

“Right, of course,” he said as he pulled out his phone, tapping the screen casually. “Hey, it was really nice officially meeting you...?”

“Rielle,” I filled in.

“I’m Matthew,” he said. “It’s always good to know people outside the Econ bubble. Do you have Instagram? Let’s exchange IGs, if that’s okay with you.”

I blinked, slightly caught off guard by how smooth the request was. I didn’t want to overthink it. It wasn’t unusual for people to exchange socials with new acquaintances, but I still hadn’t expected it from him.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, reaching for his phone as he handed it over.

I typed in my handle and handed it back. He found my profile and hit follow. The notification popped up on my screen instantly, a tiny buzz against my palm.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Enjoy the rest of the party, Rielle. And good luck with your classes.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your Master’s.”

He gave me that same genuine smile from the research room, offered a small wave, and turned to head back toward his own group.

I stood there for a second, staring at the new follower notification on my screen like it had personally altered the course of my life. Smiling helplessly, I pressed follow back.