Bound by Whispers

eight

August's POV

As I stepped onto the college campus, it was just another typical day in the spotlight. My presence seemed to draw attention wherever I went, and I was used to the glances and whispers that followed me. The "famous group" of friends surrounded me, each of them vying for my attention and approval.

As we settled down in the study area, the books and notes spread out before us. I couldn't help but notice the envious looks from other students. Being the most beautiful girl in college certainly had its perks, but it also came with its fair share of jealousy and mocking from those who couldn't understand the weight of being in the spotlight.

"August, check this out!" one of my friends called out, waving a love letter and a rose in the air. The rest of the group burst into laughter, finding it amusing to see the constant stream of admirers who tried to catch my attention.

I rolled my eyes, dismissing the gesture with a nonchalant shrug. It was a common occurrence for me, and I had grown accustomed to the countless love letters and gifts that found their way to me. But deep down, I couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness in it all. The adoration and attention were flattering, but I craved something more genuine and real.

As we delved into our studies, I immersed myself in the books, trying to drown out the noise and distraction around me. The pressure of maintaining my image as the college's "queen bee" was sometimes suffocating, and it was in these quiet moments of studying that I found solace.

On my way to the next class, I encountered another admirer with a rose and a love letter. This time, I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration. As they handed me the letter with a hopeful look, I disappointed them. "Save yourself the effort. I'm not interested. Now, kindly, fuck off."

The admirer looked taken aback, their face turning red with embarrassment. Without another word, they scurried away, leaving me to continue on my way with a mix of irritation and relief. While I tried to be polite, there were moments when I couldn't stand the constant attention and superficial admiration.

In the classroom, I chose a seat at the back, away from the prying eyes and attention. I was there to learn and grow, and sometimes the constant adulation made it difficult to be taken seriously. As the professor began the lecture, I focused on taking notes, letting the words wash over me as I tried to absorb as much knowledge as possible.

The day went on, with more teasing, more admirers, and more attention. But amidst it all, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone truly saw me for who I was beyond the image of the college's "it girl." Did they know the dreams, fears, and aspirations that lurked beneath the confident facade?

It was finally break time, and as I strolled through the crowded college corridor, students parted like the Red Sea to make way for me. The attention was something I had grown accustomed to, and I couldn't deny that I secretly relished some special treatment.

I made my way to the corner gate of the college, the one spot where the security cameras couldn't catch me. It was my secret escape, away from the prying eyes and judgement of others.

But today, as I turned the corner, I unexpectedly came face to face with Ethan, who was in the midst of smoking.

"Hey," he greeted, a cigarette in his hand. I didn't bother with niceties; I was tired and frustrated after dealing with the day's pretentious drama. I needed a release, something to numb the stress even for a few moments.

Without a word, I reached for the cigarette in his hand, almost as if it was my own. I broke the filter, inhaling the smoke deeply, leaning against the wall with one foot propped up against it. Ethan watched me with a curious expression, as if he couldn't decide whether he was impressed or scandalized.