Row 7
Music rec by author - (ruska by apocalyptica)
Adeliya's pov
I woke up with a start, my heart already pounding before I even checked the time. The thin hostel curtains were doing nothing to block the bright morning light. I grabbed my phone from the desk and groaned. 8:47 a.m. The Introduction to Psychology lecture starts at 9:00 i was so late.
“Shit,” I muttered, throwing the covers off.
I had stayed up way too late again, completely lost in reading AGAIN. The book was still lying open on my chest like an accusation but there was no time to feel guilty. I jumped out of bed and rushed through the quickest cold shower of my life, the hot water had betrayed me once again.
I threw on whatever was closest: a plain white t-shirt, my favorite faded jeans, and the oversized denim jacket. My curls were still damp and wild as I shoved my notebook, a pen, and a half-eaten packet of biscuits into my bag.
The campus paths were still wet from last night’s rain. The air smelled of red soil and eucalyptus trees, that familiar morning scent that always reminded me I was really here. Students were already hurrying towards the lecture halls, laughing and chatting if only they wouldn't occupy the whole path while doing it. I ran the whole way, my shoes slapping against the muddy ground.
By the time I reached the big Psychology lecture hall, it was 9:36. The main doors were already closed. I glanced around quickly, then slipped towards the old back service door that hardly anyone used. The handle creaked as I pushed it open and sneaked inside, trying to stay as low as possible.
Professor Kimani’s voice was already filling the auditorium. I moved between the rows like a shadow until I spotted an empty seat in row 7. I slid into it as quietly as I could, breathing hard, my bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud.
A soft chuckle came from my right.
I turned and found a guy watching me with clear amusement in his eyes. He was tall, even sitting down, with warm brown skin his dreads tied back neatly and for some reason he had a pencil scuffed in between . There was something calm and confident about him he was probably a retake student.
“You know,” he whispered, leaning slightly toward me so only I could hear, “most people just use the front door and say sorry. That was some proper ninja move.”
My face heated up instantly. I adjusted my bag and gave him a small, embarrassed smile.
“I hate walking in late through the front,” I whispered back. “Everyone stares.”
He nodded, still smiling. “Liam,” he said, offering his hand under the desk.
“Adeliya,” I replied, shaking it quickly. His hand was warm and steady against mine.
I pulled out my notebook and tried to catch up. Professor Kimani was pacing at the front, talking about Freud and the unconscious mind. A few minutes later, he made a point about dream interpretation that didn’t sit right with me.
Before I could overthink it, my hand went up.
“Actually, sir,” I said, my voice clearer than I expected, “that example doesn’t fully apply to many Kenyan communities. In most traditional African belief systems, dreams are seen more as messages from ancestors rather than just repressed desires. Even Freud himself admitted Western theories have limitations when applied elsewhere.”
The hall went quiet for a beat. Professor Kimani adjusted his glasses, looking surprised but nodding slowly.
“That’s a very good correction, Miss…?”
“Mutheu. Adeliya Mutheu.”
I felt Liam’s eyes on me the whole time. When I finally glanced sideways, he was watching me with genuine interest, his pen no longer moving on his notebook.
For the rest of the lecture, I could feel him stealing glances at me. I kept my head down, scribbling notes, but my cheeks stayed warm.
When the lecture finally ended and everyone started packing up, Liam leaned toward me again.
“You always this brave on a Monday morning, Adeliya?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a small smile playing on his lips.
I laughed softly, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear. “Only when I’ve spent half the night reading and woke up late for this class,Otherwise i would be sitting at the back.”
He stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder with easy grace. “Well,” he said, looking down at me, “Row 7 might just become my favorite seat this semester.”
My heart did a tiny, unexpected flip.
I stood too, clutching my notebook to my chest like a shield. “See you around, Liam,” I said gently.
He gave me that same calm, amused smile.
“Yeah… I think you will.”
As he turned and walked away down the aisle, I couldn’t help staring at his back. A stupid, uncontrollable smile was spreading across my face. I didn’t even realize I was still grinning like an idiot until I heard footsteps behind me.
"Adele!”
Paula’s excited voice made me jump. She appeared at my side, her braids swinging as she bumped my shoulder playfully. We had been in the same faculty since first year and had become inseparable.
She leaned in close, eyes wide with mischief, following my gaze toward Liam’s retreating figure.
“Girl, who was that?” she whispered excitedly, barely containing her squeal. “And why are you standing here smiling like you just won the lottery? Spill! Right now!”
I quickly tried to wipe the smile off my face, but it was too late. My cheeks burned even hotter as I turned to face her.
“Paula, it’s nothing,” I said, laughing nervously. “He just… sat next to me. I was late again, sneaked in through the back door, and he noticed. That’s all.”
Paula raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That’s all? The way he was looking at you during the lecture? And the way you were staring at his back just now? Mmmh, I don’t think so. Come on, tell me everything!”
She linked her arm through mine as we started walking out of the auditorium together, the rainy campus air hitting us again.
I shook my head, still feeling that warm flutter in my chest.
“His name is Liam,” I said softly, unable to stop the small smile from returning. “And… I think I’m going to be sitting in row 7 a lot more this semester.
