Confess to Me

Hanson Baxter was a senior during my college years.

Before I met him, Hanson Baxter seemed like someone out of a legend, speaking in a way that seemed almost otherworldly.

Later, I discovered he was far from mythical – it was me, agreeing to be his girlfriend, who must have been the real "mystery".

01

"Hey, is the men's room busy right now?"

Outside the restroom at the karaoke bar, I grabbed the first person I could and asked frantically.

When he shook his head, I, struggling to hold in an imminent disaster, blurted out, "Could you keep watch for me? I really can't wait. Just two minutes, I'll be super quick."

Without waiting for an answer, I dashed into the men's restroom.

When I emerged, he was still there, scrolling his phone with slender fingers.

Taking a closer look, I realized he was quite handsome.

Grinning, I approached him. "Thanks a lot."

He glanced at me, pocketed his phone, and said, "Let's go."

Let's Go?

Go where?

I was momentarily baffled, wondering if he mistook me for someone casual.

Pondering for a moment, I took out my phone. "I'm actually here with friends today, maybe some other time. Let's exchange contacts, so next time I need the restroom, I'll know who to call."

He paused, clearly thrown off, not reaching for his phone but looking at me with a meaningful stare. "Why would you call me?"

Playing dumb, huh? Definitely a seasoned player.

The trick here was to act uninterested; that usually puts guys like him off.

"You were just offering to take me somewhere, right? Say no more; I get it. But tonight's a no-go, so how about next time?"

If he actually called me, I'd just block him later!

He didn't move, so I shrugged, quickly putting my phone back in my pocket. "Fine, whatever. I'll take off then. Just, uh, thanks for saving me in a pinch."

I turned and bolted, heading straight back to the karaoke room, silently congratulating myself on my smooth escape.

A few minutes later, I was telling my friends about the "creep" I encountered by the bathroom when the door swung open. I looked up, and there he was, standing in the doorway, familiar face and all.

Seriously? He had the nerve to follow me back here?!

Before I could say anything, Landen Sanderson, the head of the Public Relations Club in our university, waved him over. "Hanson Baxter! Finally, you made it!"

Hanson Baxter?

The Hanson Baxter my friend had been going on and on about – the student council president?

Thinking back on our little encounter, I felt my whole body tense up. But things were about to get worse.

My friend, who had been listening eagerly to my story, nudged me, oblivious to my discomfort. "So, who was the creep in the bathroom? What happened with him?"

Hanson looked over, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Creep? Talking about someone specific?"

Oh god, it's me.

I'm the creep.

When I first got to campus, Hanson's name was everywhere. His resume sparkled with all the clichés of a romance novel lead. People even called him "Mapleton's Golden Boy."

Today, not only did I get to meet this "Golden Boy," but I'd also made him guard the bathroom door, asked for his contact info, and labeled him a creep.

My student council career hadn't even started, and it was already over.

I tried to make myself as invisible as possible in the room, still debating if I should apologize. Just then, Landen called out loudly, "Kristen, did you pick 'Enamorada de Ti'? Come on, it's your turn to sing!"

Startled, I took the microphone, feeling the heavy weight of Hanson's stare on me all the while.

As I finished the song, even though I thought I did a decent job, I tried to be humble. "Probably didn't sound great," I said.

Everyone cheered and praised my performance, which gave my ego a nice boost. Just as I sat down, Hanson leaned over with a low-key critique. "Not bad, but your Spanish isn't quite right – it almost sounded like you made it up yourself."

There he went, nitpicking!

Trying to redeem myself, I nodded seriously. "Duly noted. I'll work on my Spanish songs, I swear."

Maybe he saw my enthusiasm, because he replied with a quiet, "Hmm. I'm pretty good with Spanish, so if you need help, feel free to ask."

Then he pulled out his phone and showed his contact info. "But let's be clear – I won't help you with what you 'suggested' earlier. But other things? You can ask."

What I suggested?

Him taking me out?

I stared back, feeling wronged: I swear it wasn't like that!

02

A few days later, our campus held a singing competition. Due to a lack of participants, the Event Planning Committee required all its members to join.

It was embarrassing, but I only knew one song, and after being criticized for my pronunciation just a few days ago, I felt too ashamed to perform. I secretly approached Landen, hoping to drop out of the competition, but instead, he went straight to Hanson with the news.

Somehow, Hanson got wind of it and contacted me directly. "Heard you went to Landen to complain?"

I was taken aback, not sure how I had suddenly become the complainer.

Hanson sighed. "He came to me all fired up, claiming I was discouraging his staff. Just sign up; I promised to help, and I'll see it through."

I really didn't need that kind of help!

I cursed Landen internally for meddling and frantically tried to refuse. "That would be too much of your time."

"It's no trouble. I've got time to guard the men's room; I can spare some to teach you the Spanish lyrics."

It seemed I wasn't going to live down the men's restroom incident anytime soon.

Later, I realized that Hanson teaching me Spanish was a bit of a trap.

How can anyone remain unmoved when a handsome guy gazes at you intently every day, painstakingly repeating phrases in Spanish like, "Me gustas, esos ojos cautivadores, esa risa encantadora."

Certainly not me!

I began to suspect that Hanson was using his charm on purpose.

And I admit, I fell for it. I spent nights tossing and turning, dreaming of Hanson confessing his feelings to me in Spanish.

If I didn't compete soon, I feared I might really lose it.

Thanks to some intense tutoring, I managed to get myself eliminated during the auditions.

The end of the campus competition also meant an end to whatever connection I had with Hanson, and while I was relieved, there was also an inexplicable sense of melancholy.