Cure-JJK|EDITING✔️

prologue.I

"I really can't verbally express my disappointment in the number of people that failed this test."

Professor Demaw, an economics teacher at the University of Minnesota speaks to the class. His tone is frustrated and clipped. He's definitely annoyed with majority of the class.

"I think the only thing that would validly suffice is if I screamed in fury at the top of my lungs." He continues.

Quiet snickers are heard throughout the class. What they find funny, I don't understand. We all, in some form, need this class to complete our degrees for whatever our chosen major is.

Economics of the Arts and Culture.

Whether this is harder or more interesting than its basic counterpart, I really can't tell.

I mean, I know that I didn't fail the test so whatever. But still, they needn't laugh when the status of their degree is in this professor's hands.

And based on the look on his face, he is not happy with these grades.

"Ah. And since you guys think this is so funny, on to my next joke." Professor Demaw states.

Knowing that he isn't talking to me, I stare down at the papers in front of me. I kind of tune out as he lectures the class, I assume, and give next steps for their grade recovery.

He always gives his students a chance to make up for what they've done. Although sometimes I don't know if they take the class seriously enough to care for it. Ive heard a couple people in this class mention they pay others to do their homework for them when they dont feel like it.

It's probably what contributes to their failing graded assignments.

Professor Demaw continues to go on for several minutes until the class is dead silent. You could hear the empty stomach of a college student growl in here.

"With that being said, please refer to the smart board for your partner assignments."

My neck snaps up and I look at the board to read the names. I look for mine as I try to remember what he said about this part specifically.

Other people start getting up from their seats and moving around, seeming to know exactly what's going on.

This is what I get for zoning out.

I read the board from where I am, hoping to see some instructions but there's just names next to each other. I look for mine, hoping that whoever my partner is was paying more attention than I was.

The chair at the desk next to me moves and I look over to find my partner sitting down.

I don't know very many people in this class but I know him.Well, I don't know him but I've seen his face on Instagram and I've seen him in person a few times at parties. He's been in my personal space once before.

I definitely know his name.

Everybody knows his name.

But everything else that I have learned has not been by choice. People talk, the campus talks. The people around me never know how to shut up, if I'm being blunt.

Getting his seat arranged next to me is a dark haired boy with big brown eyes. The dampness of his hair strands is making them impossibly darker. His face is flushed as if he ran here.

The shirts that he's wearing are baggy; black shirt, denim blue button up over it. His black cargo pants fit snug to his waist, the tiny little thing that it is. He's been carved by the Gods themselves.

Annoying, honestly.

"You're Kimmy, right?"

There's a hint of a smile on his lips as his eyes dance with mischief.