Yes, You Set Up a Meeting

You wait the rest of the evening to hear for you. In your head you replay the short meeting in your head over and over. With no progress to be had, all you can do is relive your choices over and over again. You thought you played it cool. She seemed interested. She'll text in good time, you know it.

The next morning, you still have no luck. You get caught in that mode where you expect the text to come in every other minute. Before the end of your first class you must have chekced the damn thing a hundred times. You'd almost given up before at last the fabled text arrives, around five PM.

“I'll hear you out. Meet in the lounge by the food court at 9?”

You reply in the affirmitive, and return to your dorm to prepare for the meeting. The lounge near the food court is notoriously unpopular. Something to do with the weird bird wall paper? If you two are going to meet in public it might as well be somewhere where someone would have to be crazy to hang around.

At 9, you walk into the lounge. Sadly, she isn't wearing the achingly tight belly shirt you associate her with, instead dressed in a hoodie and a pair of tight track pants. While she had been waiting for you, she had been reading in one of the bean chairs on the south wall of the lounge. She lowers a book on engineering she is reading to look at you. Now that she is indoors, her glasses are clear. You walk over, grabbing another bean bag chair and drop it next to her. No one else is around to overhear.

“I don't think we actually got each others name last time around.” You jump down into the chair. You're surprised it doesn't pop. It must have been well designed. “I'm Atticus”

“Your parents like To Kill A Mockingbird a lot?” she asked. No smile touched her lip and her eyes were still clearly sizing you up.

“Actually no,” You stretch out. She fits more comfortably on a bean bag then you since she's ore then a foot shorter then you. “But, they did speak Greek.”

“I'm Seo-yun. No last names, right now.” She said quietly. Now that you finally got a chance to listen carefully, you got more of a chance to place her accent. She was probably not born in America. You guessed South Korean based on the fact she didn't quite sound Japanese and based on her name. You'd have to ask at some point. “I considered not meeting you at all. I still don't think it was a good idea...”

“I noticed, a bit of hesitation.” You laugh. “But, you wanted to find out what was wrong with your designs, right?”

That got the intended reaction. Her cool and analytic composure softened, and she bit down on her lip. You thought maybe she was going to reply, but after a few seconds she was still paralyzed, so you start to continue, only to be cut off when she answers you in a voice only a few decibels above a whisper.

“I thought it was perfect.” She doesn't meet your eyes. “I worked so hard on making sure all of the math checked out. I don't believe you.”

“The math does check out...” you concede. You can't help but grin. “So long as you don't assume someone is using it. You didn't attribute enough of the strain that a human body would put on the anchor points. Also, the trench is too thin to work. You haven't researched the width of the splatter when you release an enema.”

“Or....” you continue. “..Perhaps you haven't spent enough time with a hose pumping your asshole full of so much liquid that you feel like your stomach is going to explode to know what kind of issues would arise.”

It takes a lot of effort to contort your face back to a neutral “just trying to help” expression. Her cheeks turn bright red and she ducks her head away from you so you can't see it. You also notice, much to your satisfaction, that she crosses her legs. If the conversation continues in this trajectory, then the bean bag might have a wet patch by the time you finish conversing.

“I'll admit that I'm a bit lacking in...” her voice almost succeeds in remaining composed, despite a few points where it cracks ever so slightly. “...personal experience. But, that can't be the entire reason you asked me here? If it was just a math error we wouldn't need a meetup” She turns back to you, and despite the blush still hanging on her cheeks, she scrutinizes your intentions through your face.

“Well, there are some issues about materials...” you scratch your chin. “But, besides reworking the math, I think there are other ways I can contribute to this pet project of yours. For instance, as a fellow enthusiast, I have a few suggestions for ways you can improve the project. Make it a bit more ambitious.”

“Such as?” She raises an eyebrow. Her arms cross right under her ample bosom.