Year Four/Week Two – Present
My ethics and media class was a drag.
Most of my courses were online so I didn’t need to brave this shithole of a campus, but this one was by far the worst.
Prof. Flowers was anything but a dainty stem and leaf. She wore these weird overcoats that had swirly designs on them, her boots were clunky and muddy as if she lived in the wastelands and her hair was constantly uncombed.
Oh, yeah, her personality wasn’t that great either.
She banked on participation marks for grades, and sadly I was walking a thin line between passing and failing my degree so attending was the only option.
I couldn’t fail. I had a plan. I had to leave.
This building stunk of mildew and there was only a slim window in the corner of the class, tucked away behind a podium housing old books.
But today was different.
It was different because there was a new face.
“Funny seeing you here,” I told Jace, plopping my bag next to his. “Switch in?”
He nodded. It became his signature sign. I think it meant he liked me.
“Yeah, the class I was in was ridiculous,” he said, stretching out his long legs. My eyes trailed the length of his trousers before meeting his gaze again.
“Which class?” I asked, mainly out of formality. There were plenty of things I wanted to know about Jace, none of them involving school.
“I honestly don’t remember the name. The professor called out everyone and quizzed us the first day.”
“You’re right, that’s lunacy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What did she quiz you on? I mean,” I relaxed into my chair, “What is there to even quiz you on?”
He scoffed, running slender fingers through his hair. I noticed he changed his earrings. Both were diamonds.
“I think she was trying to make a statement.”
Interesting. I leaned in. “Isn’t that everyone’s intention?”
He caught my eye and a glimmer of something passed through his gaze. “Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“Is it working?”
The muscles in his jaw flexed and finally, for the first time since I’d met him, he smiled. It was a small gesture, one I could tell was reserved for the people he was impressed by (or impressed upon). But he smiled at me. That was a good enough answer as any.
“Alrighty class, I see some new faces!” Prof. Flowers started, throwing a look at Jace. He was the only boy in our class besides Hugo, a transfer student from somewhere overseas.
Faces. Plural. There was only one. And he was sitting next to me.
“Would you like to introduce yourself?” she piped.
“I’m not very good at introductions,” he began, “But why not.”
This grabbed everyone’s attention. His voice was deep and low. Given the fact that he was the only man in this bleak environment, half the girls were wide-eyed and interested. I knew first-hand. I was one of them.
A brunette in the corner twirled a lock of hair around her finger. Another pushed out her boobs from a too-tight top. She was far in the back, though. He wouldn’t see her.
I did.
“My name’s Jace, I’m a fourth year communications student and uh,” he paused, looking down at a crack in his desk, “I love soccer.”
Most people waved, a few mumbled hellos, Prof. Flowers smiled. I studied. I studied all of him.
He was silent, but not shy. Maybe he liked to present himself as such, but there was something to him that screamed attention. Now attention could go one of two ways – either you sought it out, or it found you. I couldn’t tell if he was both, neither, or somewhere in between.
“Cool, cool,” the professor clapped, then quickly switched on a Ted Talk for the next half hour.
During this time, I decided to scout out any potential competition in the room. Call me crazy, but I needed to be the one he wanted. If someone was prettier than me, he would like her. Wouldn’t he? Every guy chose looks over personality. At least, everyone I had ever been with.
They were all the same.
That’s when I noticed a little belle sitting in the corner, quiet with doe-eyes. She was stunning, sporting that girl-next-door look. I didn’t look like that. I tried too hard.
She would peer over at him occasionally, then glance back to the screen. God, did this guy not see the effect he had on people? Imagine looking like a model-off-duty without even trying. Imagine having to build up a strong personality in order for people to see you.
I chanced a look at Jace and could see his eyes flutter between the screen and girl-next-door.
Fuck.
I looked again. He was looking at her.
Are you fucking serious? Absolutely not.
I ripped a page out of my planner and pulled out a sharpie, scribbling a note on the back:
Have coffee with me.
Four words.
Four words he wouldn’t refuse. He couldn’t refuse it. He can’t refuse me.
I folded it into a perfect square and slid it to him, smirking once before returning my attention forward.
Now I didn’t need to look to see that he was no longer captured by girl-next-door. He was focused on me. I felt his burning stare as he pulled out a pencil and wrote something, then passed it back.
The palms of my hands were sweaty. Why was I sweating? Was I nervous? No. I never got nervous. Nerves were for the weak.
Silly me, I thought. What did I have to worry about?
Name a time and place.
I was Blu Henderson after all.
