Summary: The first thing he ever sees is her swinging left orange Converse shoe; it's dirty, scratched an doodled on. And he can't stop staring. Romantic, pointless one-shot.

MOVEMENT

The first thing he ever sees from her is her left foot. It is an old orange Converse shoe, dirty, scratched and doodled on; and she's moving it to some wild rhythm unknown to mankind. She's probably not sitting the correct way, he realizes, because of the way her leg is sprouting out like that, blocking half the aisle. As her foot continues to dangle around, barley grazing the floor, he can't help himself but stare as though it were the most important and insightful thing on earth. And she's flinging it around, and her leg is thin and clad in the so popular skinny jeans; it's so damn mesmerizing.

"Ian, snap out of whatever the hell you have fallen in," Roger whispers, and Ian has to concentrate a lot to stop looking at that orange Converse, dancing all on it's own. " Did you find the definition yet?" his friend asks, without looking up from the gigantic book lying on the table in front of him.

"What?" Ian asks, but his eyes go immediately to the orange shoe again, drawing circles and spirals on the air.

"The definition, Ian." Daniel says quietly, without taking his eyes from the screen of his computer, and the tick-tacking of the keys never halts. "Did you find it, yet?"

"Uh-" he manages to mutter, and is really thinking hard of an excuse or something to say, but then the leg stretches out, and it's long and thing and slender. His eyes wide and his jaw falls down just a little.

Roger, who's sitting in front of him, sees this and turns his head back to see what's got Ian so transfixed. He groans, turns back sharply and snaps his fingers in front of Ian's eyes. "Come on, man. Do something!" He says and taps the book in front of Ian. "The report's due tomorrow, it's already 8 o'clock, and we have less than half of it!"

Roger's outburst earned a few "shhhhs" and glares from the rest of the students around them, and Ian feels bad enough to grudgingly take his eye off the dancing, solitary leg, and start reading the boring economic text on the table. "Calm down, Roger, I'm on it." he whispers back, and lifts his eyes for only one second to see the shoe bop up and down to some upbeat silent music.

Ian is sitting on the library's third floor, in the last row to the left, with Roger and Daniel, his Macroeconomic group partners, trying desperately to finish the final report due the next day. The paper is worth 25% of their final grade, and they had just started doing it today, with no real excuse or reason, other than the fact that the three had forgotten about it. It has to be at least 15 pages long, single-spaced, and they had only the introduction and some useless information about a useless theory. Ian was tempted to slam his head on the table and die out of repeated concussion.

The fact that in behind the rows of bookshelves, in the middle of the floor, some girl with bright shoes was sitting next to the aisle did not help Ian at all. She is probably sitting in one of the cubicles, Ian deducts, which means she's probably alone. Thanks to the row's of tall and dusty bookshelves separating them, the only thing Ian can see of said girl, is the lower half of her long, slender, skinny jeans clad leg, with that dirty orange Converse shoe moving around the aisle happily. Ian is dying to see the rest of the girl, but for that he would have to stand up and walk into the aisle and probably make a fool out of himself. So he remains seated and conspicuously watches the only bit of his interest move around.

Of course, Roger notices this and with another groan, grabs Ian's book, hauls it over to his table and starts looking for the definition (of what exactly, Ian has no idea) himself.

Daniel sees this and his eyes leave the screen. "What's up with you?" he asks, and noticing his friend's constant stare, stretches his neck a little and looks down the aisle himself.

The shoe is still dancing around and twirling happily above the dull grey carpet. Daniel seems mesmerized by the bopping too, but his eyes don't take that glazed look Ian's have, instead his eyebrows furrow and he exclaims, "Who in the world can be so damn cheerful and uppity the weekend before finals?"

Ian shrugs and follows the arches and loops of the orange shoe with his eyes. "Don't know." He answers, and he really doesn't want to stop looking at the shoe. It's like watching fire, hypnotizing. "But it's sort of calming, isn't it?"

Roger groans again, and slams the book on Ian's hand on the table. Ian jumps in his chair and exclaims loudly, which gains them more glares and shhhhs from the people around them. "Stop acting like idiots, and work!"

"Alright, alright!" Daniel says, and his hands fly back the keyboard, but his eyes still follow the girl's leg. And Ian is ten times worse: his face is actually resting on his propped elbow, watching the solo in the long aisle with dreamy eyes, and his mouth is half open.

"It's just really hypnotizing," he whispers to Daniel, "but at the same time, kind of energizing, right? Like you – you just want to join her, you know?" And without thinking about it, his feet start flailing around under the table, knocking against Roger's legs and upturning his bag. "Oh damn." He mutters, and Ian has enough sense to look apologetic at Roger

His friend seems to close his eyes, breathe in and out and calm himself down. Roger, opens his eyes, and turns back to look at the shoe. A few seconds later he asks, "If she has you so interested, why don't you go talk to her?"

Ian scoffs, "I'm not interested in her." He says with failed nonchalance, at which Roger and Daniel just raise their eyebrows. "I'm not. I haven't even seen the rest of her. She could be ugly, or stupid, or old, or – or married." Roger snorts.

"She could be a he." Daniel adds, and both Ian's friends laugh out loud.

"She's not a he!" Ian defends, and this provokes even more laughter, earning them reprimands from their close neighbors.

"What difference would it make anyways?" Daniel whispers with a smirk. "You aren't interested in her, after all."

"Of course not." Ian argues quietly, "I told you, I haven't even seen her. How could I like her? I mean it's just eye catching, it's just like Dan said, she's uppity and happy the day before finals begin, and she's there moving and twirling her feet in the middle of the library like some sort of bright orange ballet dancer."

"How poetic." Roger comments dryly.

"Shut up."

They all stare at the movements for a little while more.

"So, you think that if you don't like her, and you are not interested in her, could you please do some work?" Roger asks him. And for the next hour they work diligently; Ian doing it probably just to prove a point, but still, suddenly they have 6 pages already done.

And all that time, Ian has to concentrate very hard to not stare at the foot that never stays still. It bobs up and down, swings left and right, loops, twirls and stretches; and Ian steals a glance every minute to see the bright limb moving wildly through the air. It's just so captivating.

Suddenly, an arm appears; and it's long and thing and golden brown, like the type of skin that spends a lot of time outdoor. She's stretching, and Ian's mouth falls open, his eyes widen and his pencil drops.

It's too sexy.

The bare arm extends itself, and it's fingers wiggle out the tension in the small, thin hand. The girl rolls her wrist, as though if getting rid of the tension that builds when one spends too much time writing. With one last flick and twirl of her arm, it goes back behind the bookshelf.

Oh, dear.

Ian is frozen, his eyes never leaving the aisle, where the lone foot bobs up and down happily. Roger groans again, and another discussion ensues about Ian not putting on an effort for their work.

"Please, please, go see her and learn that she is ugly and fat, and hairy so that you can help us!" he cries in a low tone. "Or go ask her name and phone number, and engrave it in your mind that you'll call her next week when all this is over."

"I told you, I'm not interested!" Ian replies and his eyes seek out hers slender arm again. "And she's neither fat or hairy." He adds. Roger only snorts back.

Another hour goes by, and they write 4 more pages, the girl stretches her arm one more time, the leg continues to dance and Ian continues to be completely captivated by it.

It's almost eleven, when the bright orange Converse stops dancing and folds back behind the bookshelf. Ian is confused for a while and he leans out a little in the aisle to see more of the girl. His movements catch Daniel's and Roger's attention, and they all direct their eyes to where the foot was waving just seconds before.

"What do you think-" Daniel starts but stops immediately when an arm, a tan, slender arm, sneaks down to retrieve a bright green bag on the floor. The arm pulls the bag up easily, and the foot reappears, landing slightly on the carpet floor.

The three boys can't stop watching as the foot shuffles and suddenly, the girl is standing up. Because of their angle, they can just see less than half of her body: her thin leg, the end of her arm, and the hem of a red t-shirt. But it's all so mesmerizing, so bright, and alive and familiar, that Ian wants to stand up and go over there and touch it and hug it.

Suddenly, the body disappears, and they hear footsteps.

"She's leaving." Roger says, turns back and starts reading his book again. "Good Riddance." Daniel too, turns back to the computer, and stars working with a sigh.

But Ian is still watching the spot, where moments ago, a bright orange shoe was dancing happily, and where for a while, he had seen just a sliver of a girl, who could probably be his next girlfriend, and maybe the last. And suddenly he was standing up.

Without thinking about it, without saying a word to Daniel or Roger, without considering anything, he starts walking down the row of shelves, looking for her. But she's not there, and Ian races to the stairs, where a lot of students are walking and talking, and he has no idea how she looks, except that she has lovely arms and bright orange Converse.

He shoves people away while he weaves through the throng of students going up and down, and he is so focused on the floor and feet of the people around him, that he crashes several times into other students. But there! There she is, her bright orange shoes are bouncing down the stairs, and he feels like a pervert as his eyes travel up her legs, up her dark red t-shirt and to the back of her dark haired head.

"Hey!" he calls, and stumbles forward. "Hey!"

He finally reaches her on the landing of the first floor, and without any sort of thought, excuse or reason, other than the fact that he was hypnotized by her whole persona; he reaches out and touches her shoulder. "Hey, wait!"

She turns around, and Ian once again can only stare. She's pretty, with big brown eyes, caramel hair in a messy bun on the top of her head, a polite smile in her small rose lips and pretty high cheeks.

Even though she looks tired, there's this sense of movement, of action, of life to her that Ian is captivated and words can't seem to form in his head. She's clutching the strap of her bag with the slender hand he saw before, and her eyes have that twinkle that only small children have.

She looks at him with a question in her eyes, and he says the first thing that comes to his mind. "I don't want you to think I'm so kind of freak or anything." He says, and his eyes drop to the floor. "I – God, I have no idea what I'm actually doing. "

She looks at him with a bemused expression on her face. "Yeah?" she says, and her voice is loud and clear, sure and vibrant.

Ian scratches his neck and clears his throat. "I was watching you before." He admits. And her eyebrows flow up in her face, but her smile remains, and it's as though she's holding back a laugh. He takes this as a green light. "I mean, I could only see your foot, you were moving it around, and it was distracting in a way, because you were flinging it and twirling and couldn't stay put…"

She's still watching him with amused eyes. And now he's certain she's holding back a laugh. "Yeah, I do that a lot. I'm kind of restless." She confesses.

And he's brave enough to look her in the eyes, warm chocolate brown eyes that are twinkling and shining, and he notices that she's much shorter than he ever imagined her to be. "Yeah, I noticed that."

They stare at each other for a while, her smile still on her warm face, and Ian keeps scratching his neck.

She grins suddenly. "I'm Maggie." She says and extends her slender, golden arm. "Nice to meet you."

His smile is bright and nervous. "Ian." He answers and grasps her hand. "Same here."

She wears her bright orange Converse shoes the next day, when they meet for lunch in the cafeteria. He sits down with his plate of food, and Maggie sighs before asking him how his exam went. Conversation flows easily between them, and she makes him smile and he makes her laugh a lot.

But it's when she sticks her leg out of the booth and starts twirling her foot absentmindedly that he thinks he's falling for her.

Heeeey! I have no idea where this came from, I was writing this Western Civ. paper last night, and this just popped in my mind and I had to write it down! And a couple of hours later, voilá! here it is! It's rather pointless, but I find it sweet and a bit uplifting. Please review and tell me what you think. :)

currentlywaway.