My mind awakens but my body neglects the reaction. There's an ache in my neck, I must have slept wrong. The stiffness travels down my back. I'm not comfortable at all! Am I sitting down?!

"Owww," I groan.

The pain doesn't stop there. It feels like something's jammed to my face. I lift my head slowly and remove whatever has trapped my eyes. It sounds like plastic falling upon a hard . . . table? With my eyes still closed, I'm rubbing the tender area by my temple and top of my nose while my other hand lays flat.

Where's my bed?

My eyes squint and blink repeatedly. This IS a desk! There's a laptop a few inches away from my hand. The screen is off, but all I see is my blurry shadow. Looking down I see black frames and put one and one together. The instant I slide them on, my appearance is focused.

No no no no!

I don't care what discomfort this body's in. Get me to the bathroom! She clumsily rushes out her room and down the hallway. Bursting through another door, I'm confronted with her reflection.

"Was I about to throw up?!" She murmurs in complete disorientation.

I feel as though I'm pinned against the wall of her mind. I let go of the steering wheel and free her hands so she may wash her face. My arms are crossed, figuratively. I stare at her short wavy hair, it's as black as her framed glasses with thick bangs lined across.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing makes sense.

"You crammed all night, you're gonna ace this quiz!" She tells herself in the mirror.

Zoning out, a rushing weight fills my thoughts and I want to cry. I don't know if I'll be able to see or feel them so I fight it a little longer. It wouldn't be fair to sadden this girl just because I am. Somehow, I'm able to block off what I don't choose to see or hear. I dwell inside this person, not even caring who she is because . . . she isn't me.

---

Her body is constantly moving throughout the day. I hear her talking to her classmates, the teachers in the background and feel her always in a rush to get from one room to the next. It isn't until she says something in particular that sparks my interest to come back.

"If my online simulation is correct, then this design should be the sturdiest of all three prototypes," she mumbles.

Spread in front of the table are protractors, rulers, Xacto knives, large sheets of tracing paper and fancy mechanical pencils. Further down sits a pile of cardboard, tubes, string, masking tape and different bottles of glue.

I have to find out for myself.

She searches through her bag and I pull out a heavy text book. Civil Engineering. Brilliant. Judging by her class project, she can't be too advanced. Freshman, Sophomore? I'd have her search further and get her wallet but I'm afraid of knowing what state I'm in now.

Warped in a daze, I observe her drawing and making measurements. I'm fascinated as though I were watching over her shoulder, but I'm closer than that. Suddenly I don't mind being here. Isn't this what I almost wished for?

"Good work, Charlotte. Make sure your bridge truss is strong enough using equal span lengths. Sounds simple but many models wobble due to unproportioned structures."

Charlotte.

"Not a chance," she says confidently.

---

I've been so infatuated by my new person that I forget about my initial problem. Tempted to entertain the idea that I'm dreaming again, I quickly pop the bubble. This remains unexplainable and furthermore, out of my control apparently. All I have now is a compendium of clues I have slowly gathered and will continue to do so. There's no use in me fighting this, so I'll just wait. For what exactly? That's the main question.

"Char! You'll never guess!" Some girl yells outside the room.

"Yeah?" Charlotte replies, pausing from reading on her bed.

"He finally asked if I wanted to meet for dinner. We gotta go!"

We?

"What do you mean 'We'?!" Charlotte yells and hears no response. She bolts out of the room and catches another girl undressing in the hallway as she storms into her room. "Heather! Why did you say 'We'?"

"He's coming with a friend. It's a double date. Quick! I have to get in the shower!"

Charlotte shakes her head, watching naked Heather run across the hall to the bathroom.

"You tell me this now?! Absolutely not!"

"Charlotte, please?" Heather begs, poking her head out of the door momentarily.

"There's not a chance in hell I'm going," she grumbles, about to go back to her room. "This is like. . . the 5th guy now!" Charlotte screams this time.

"It's not my fault! The other guys just wanted to hook up. This one's different!"

Charlotte turns around ready to reply when her wet roommate wrapped in a towel waddles out the bathroom and straight to us. And she's pouting. Please!

"You can't expect to find true love on a dating app! All the guys there have one thing in mind, Heather... and it's not common sense!"

"He said his friend made him do it. And-and he's studying architecture or something like that, so you'll have nerdy things to talk about and it won't be awkward."

Pause. If my date happens to be an aspiring architect then maybe this night will be beneficial in some twisted way; dinner couldn't hurt.

Charlotte shrugs her shoulders and nods unwillingly. Heather shrieks and runs into her room. Lifting her arms, we smell the need for a shower as well and proceed to get ready for the evening.

Worse case, you get a free meal.

---

We catch a cab towards the East Village. The discovery of being in New York hits me better than I had expected. We're supposed to meet these guys at Le Jardin Bistro around 7:30pm. In contrast to Heather, Charlotte claims she's impressing no one with her orange knitted dress, but I think it's modest compared to her roommate's. This blonde chick is wearing a black sequence dress, much too short, and heavy eyeliner.

Heather said they would wait for us outside, even though our reservation is already made. The taxi slows down and aligns along the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. We quickly find two tall figures with their backs to the street. Heather nudges Charlotte, indicating she's found them.

That's a no brainer!

Charlotte chuckles at my thought and that makes me smile too. When the gentlemen turn around I immediately notice the one wearing glasses. I bet Charlotte feels dumb for leaving hers at home, they would have made cute twins.

Too shy to make full eye contact, Charlotte glances at them, at the street, inside the restaurant and at her shoes. Meanwhile, I'm still studying the tall hipster, seeming way to attractive then he leads on. He smiles and the rushing weight returns. I don't want to cry but there has to be a reason we keep meeting every time. There has to be a reason...

It's always you.

This catches Charlottes attention and she fixes her gaze on my target. Seconds feel like minutes but it's soon interrupted by a harsh truth.

"Hi Graeme," Heather beams and hugs him. I feel a spike to the chest. "Oh, this is my roommate, Charlotte."

Charlotte raises her hand and timidly waves hello. For all she knows, the cute guy in glasses isn't for her, no big deal. But to me, its devastating! How am I supposed to sit back and watch him go on a date with this girl I don't even think I like? Like or not, I want it to be me-us instead.

"Pleasure to meet you," he says, surprising the both of us with his English accent.

This just got worse!

I have no guilt. I'd rather disappear and block everything out again except I also want to spy on every move and every word.

"And I'm Soren," his friend adds, extending his hand. "Shall we go inside?"

His accent-less friend guides us to the entrance. We seem to have separated into new partners, each with our dates. Good thing is I don't have to focus on mine, that's Charlotte's job. But come to think of it, she shouldn't appear that interested in him either. Don't get me wrong, Soren is an attractive guy, with his dirty blonde hair and strong jawline. Yet, he's not the one I keep bumping in to.

They pull out our chairs and we take our seats. Just as Graeme is sitting, our eyes lock again and Charlotte breaks away. The effect is instantaneous. She feels something too. It doesn't help that he's sitting right across from me; Heather to my right and Soren on the left.

Charlotte's attention is diverted to the light fixtures and vines decorating the patio. It's an expensive place, the menu proves it. It's safe to say, myself and I will enjoy the evening regardless.

Graeme orders a bottle of wine, unfortunately Heather announces that I'm the only one underaged. True yes, so I guess that means Charlotte is too. Once the waiter leaves, Graeme hurries to catch up with him and returns with a mysterious grin.

"I had forgotten the appetizer."

Heather makes an effort to engage her date in conversation while Graeme tries to include the whole table. Charlotte shifts her body to lean more towards the left and seeing where this is going, I offer to help her break the ice.

"So you're studying architecture?"

"No that would be Graeme. I'm in law school."

Great! I have no clue what to ask now.

"Oh, what year?"

Good save!

Charlotte smiles.

"I'll be getting my Bachelor's Degree next year, but not even close to being done."

"What inspired you to become a lawyer?"

"My father. He's waiting to pass the firm down to me."

Soren's a friendly and charming guy but I can tell that Charlotte is stumped. The timing is impeccable as the waiter brings a large order of shrimp cocktail and four wine glasses.

Graeme. I sing.

We're smiling, as much as one of us tries to hide it. Charlotte glances at him suspiciously and he shoots her a shy grin. Heather's a lucky gal. I obviously don't know how long those two have been talking on this dating app but their conversation is about as interesting as a boring lecture on a Saturday afternoon. Point being, you want to get the hell out of there.

It seems as though all the wonderful things that Graeme is explaining to Heather is flying right over her head. Sure she is fascinated, as am I, but she hasn't a clue to what he's saying. She must be stuck on his accent alone while the rest of us listen attentively to how he describes his final project for his Architectural Design class.

"Were you influenced by Piano's Shard Skyscraper?" Charlotte interrupts out of nowhere.

The table is silent and all eyes are on her, even those shimmering lime ones that seem surprisingly glad that she's spoken.

"Are you familiar with Renzo Piano's work?" He asks impressed.

"We studied him recently. Although I'm quite taken with Tom Wright's Burj Al Arab."

"Ah, British fan then," he grins and appears to be blushing.

"Where's our waiter? I'm afraid four shrimp won't hold off my hunger for much longer," Soren implies.

Heather signals me to follow her and we excuse ourselves. We maze our way to the ladies room and I can only imagine what I'm about to hear next. She is completely frustrated.

"I don't think I'm doing so well out there, Charlotte. He's too smart! He's way out of my league!"

You're absolutely right!

"No guy is out of your league! You're just intimidated which can be a good thing for you. You said so yourself, he's different."

"Yes but I wish he weren't THAT different. Flirting isn't working or my impromptu jokes. He makes me nervous!"

"Those are all good things. Challenges. . . opposites attract, you know? Don't give up, just tell him what your passions are."

"Right! Do you mind waiting here for a moment. I'd like to catch his reaction when he sees me arrive at the table."

"Um okay," Charlotte nods.

What a stupid thing to say, she's clearly insecure and you're too nice.

Charlotte waits five more minutes, washing her hands and drying them leisurely. She swings the door open and bumps into someone in the tight hall space.

"Oh! I'm sorr-" she apologizes until she lifts her gaze.

"Pardon me," Graeme insists with a smile. I see the intimidation Heather mentioned before.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he pauses, "You might think I'm heartless for saying this . . . but you must know, I wish it were you instead."

He presses his lips together in lament before escaping to the men's room. Charlotte leans against the wall to regain composure. I'm doing cartwheels inside her head. But a chills runs through her so deep I can feel it and her face turns hotter by the second. At the same time worry is drowning out the happy moment.

No biggie. Pull out your phone and pretend to be distracted by a text on your way back to the table. Heather won't suspect a thing.

Charlotte does just that. She sits and pretends to listen to the chit-chat but in reality we both are repeating the same line.

I wish it were you.

Notes

Which is your favorite Harry character?