First contact...

I knew, even though my throat tightened the moment I saw him, I should probably say something.

There he was, looking as good as ever (on a Sunday afternoon, when he's obviously just doing stuff around the house), fiddling with the dryer and looking unimpressed. This happened to be the dryer sitting right next to mine.

I was doing a couple loads of laundry between procrastinating on some important school work on a warm Sunday afternoon. It was my last trip downstairs; all I had to do was collect my dry clothes and I was pretty much forced back to work.

A bizarre thought floated through my head as I opened the laundry room door...what if he's doing his laundry?

Strangely enough, there he was. As I rounded the corner, I staggered at the sight of Elevator Boy, positioned at the dryer immediately beside the one that contained my sheets.

Holy shit, I thought. OK, be calm.

I dropped my hamper on the floor, opened the door and piled my stuff out, all the while having a minor heart attack. After all, I've accidentally mirrored this guy's walk to school, sat next to him in class, rode in elevators with him...and we've still never even uttered a word to each other.

I stopped myself from simply running for the door, but I didn't really do much else. I stood there for a second, inspecting the now empty dryer, looking for an excuse to stay around. Then, it came to me. I grabbed the dusty lint tray, took it to the garbage can sitting a few feet away and scraped it off.

This entire time I was having a major internal conflict. One side, the adult one, was rolling its eyes and asking why I was being so childish, why I couldn't simply pipe up and say something. The other side, the shy kid, was trying to figure out the right thing to say, or, more accurately, remember how to speak at all.

The lint tray firmly back in it's place, and the dryer door closed, I was left with about three seconds to either say something or simply walk away. Elevator Boy was still playing with his dryer's buttons, and made a frustrated sound.

"Heh, not your day?" I heard myself say.

He looked over at me, and laughed a little. "Hell, not my year," he said.

I saw my hand stick out into open space, and heard my voice again. "Hey, I don't think we've ever been introduced before, but I'm Steve."

He shook my hand. "We're in some of the same classes," I said, feebly hoping for a flash of recognition to ignite in his eyes.

"Oh?" he said, looking at me.

Shit. "Uhh...you are at [my school], right?"

"Oh, yeah," he said.

"I've sat next to you in class a couple weeks ago," I said again, still hoping he would remember seeing me at least once, somewhere.

"Hmm..." he said. "Sorry, don't really remember."

He then launched into a conversation about the assignment we were working on, which led to discussion about the class, which led to us walking around the laundry room while he finished what he was doing.

I was struck at how friendly he was, how instantly outgoing and seemingly comfortable he was. We stood there talking as if we'd talked that very week in class, comparing opinions and experiences and having a few laughs.

We had both finished, so we walked to the elevator and rode up together. It was a bit of an awkward goodbye, very much like the beginning. "Well, see you," I said, and stepped off the car.

But holy shit! I'd finally done it! I'd made contact with Elevator Boy, and it went surprisingly well. I replayed the conversation in my head, and again couldn't get over how personable he was, how he seemed to actually look at me intensely while we were talking. He has this penetrating gaze, intense but not combative, and I wondered if this was his poker face or his genuine interest.

Today, I walked to campus to drop off some paperwork, and surprisingly there sat Elevator Boy beside the very door I was going to walk in. He smiled, I smiled and waved, and stepped inside to drop off my stuff.

I backtracked out the door, where he was still sitting with a couple other people. Again, we struck up easy conversation, and I stood there chatting for a few minutes. And like before, his gaze focused on me, the same look of intensity.

It was at that moment my imagination (which I had just told someone was very vivid) started running away with me, and I wondered for a brief moment if he was checking me out. Insane, I know, and how egocentric is that? But there you have it.

I didn't want to stand there, with two other people staring at us talk, so I wrapped things up and with a friendly wave headed on my way (hoping that I had some sort of early-summer sultry walk/burning in my eye, and wondering if I looked like shit or half decent).

I guess there really is a time and place for everything, a time and place when we are all thrust together at the right moment. I've waited eight months for the right moment to actually say something to the mysterious Elevator Boy, and finally the situation presented itself.

It was a little reassuring to see that he hadn't remembered the various times that I've run into him. At least I know he doesn't think I'm a stalker, something that would have been easily interpreted had he remembered my mirroring his every move during that first walk to school.

And at least I know, next time I see him, I'll be able to say hello.