"Love has become a wacky game, but I won't let it slip through my fingers!"
Meet David Young, your average college student with a massive crush. But when it comes to romance, he's as clueless as a penguin in a desert. So, in a stroke of genius (or m...
The mysterious, outspoken girl with black hair and pale skin who sits three rows ahead of me in my calculus class and two rows behind me in my weekly health seminar.
I don't know her last name, since professors here don't take a verbal role count and she randomly showed up to class about a month ago.
But damn does "Grace" fit her face like a glove.
My standards are pretty high, but I don't think that's why I haven't landed myself a girlfriend. No, according to my younger sister, Olivia, my standards are well out of my league, and I should "aim lower."
Pfft, like that's going to solve my problem.
Not... that I have a problem. I'm perfectly fine admiring my muse from afar.
Olivia slides her notebook across the tiny plastic flap-tops of our seminar desks, nudging my elbow with it roughly.
Her beady eyes order me to "look now, or else."
Sometimes I wish my twin would remember that she's younger by about ten minutes, so she'd stop ogling me like our mother. It's nice to treat each other as equals, but to exercise dominance like this, and in our health class, too...
Sighing, I slip the notebook over my Macbook's keyboard and squint my eyes so I can read her chicken scratch.
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I grimace.
I still can't believe she got me to tell her I had a crush in the first place. Had I wanted to be teased? No.
Now that I think about it, she's never once told me she was interested in anyone. Why did I have to fall victim first? She gets to have all the fun...
"Yeye," I scribble back, pretending to be chill about it.
Olivia takes the notebook, slaps it shut, then crosses her arms tightly over her chest. A few students murmur their complaints about her loud disruption, but none look in our direction.
I blink at her, squeezing my eyes a little so she can see what a distraction she's being.
She just humphs, pushing a chunky brown braid over her shoulder.
When the seminar is over, Olivia tugs on my sweatshirt.
"See that?" she whispers sharply, nodding to a group of girls leaving the classroom. Grace's sleek, raven hair stands out of the bunch like the elegant neck of a black swan. She doesn't look in our direction as she laughs, oblivious to our gazes.
Olivia snaps her fingers in my face, and I flinch.
"She's out. of. your. league. buddy. And I wouldn't be surprised if she has a boyfriend already. Why wouldn't she? Looking like that..." Her voice trails off as if her appearance is explanation enough.
