Silver and Gold.

Fist fights and lipgloss. (2)

Efia was in the lecture hall the morning before William. Meaning he had to push past her to get into his seat, his warmth was an annoyingly unwelcome strain on her makeup- if she started sweating then even setting spray wouldn't save her. It was Friday and she had no time to do makeup later that night before going to her best friend's party. Abigail Willoughby had been Efia's greatest friend since they were old enough to understand the concept, rich but not spoilt, she was the sweetest person Efia knew. She had literally bought her 30 jumbo packs of sausages when she went through her breakup and that's all she wanted to eat.

She woke up early so she could lay out her outfit for that night on her bed in her dorm before going to her lecture, but it didn't really matter the amount of sleep she missed out on--this was one of her more useless lectures, meaning she could take a pleasant 1 hour and 15 minute long nap as he professor rambled on.

William had been invited to that party too, and as he sat down next to Efia, duly noting that their suits matched, he wondered if that was when he should properly try to be friendly with her. He had to know her secret; he could literally see how sleepy she was right now, she was going to nap through this whole lecture and yet still get 98/100 on a test about this subject matter, whilst he would have to bust his back to get the same score.

Everyone else started filing into the hall as their ancient professor hobbled his way into the room. William let out a little laugh at the old man's resilience; there was now ay he got paid enough for this.

Efia has stretched her hands out on the table and Williams couldn't help but notice her sharp pink nails--they were the acrylic type his mother adored. He felt his face twist into a scowl as he took Efia's hand to inspect her nails.

Efia snatched her hand back and looked him up and down like he had some sort of skin disease before dramatically wiping her hand on her smart blue blazer, "What exactly do you think you're doing, willy?"

"How do you write with those stupid things glued to your nails? You look like an angry cat." William folded his arms over his chest, his blue sweater vest doing very little to hide the muscle built from a consistent gym schedule. Efia sniggered at him, leaning her cheek against her hand.

"Why don't you just say it? You think I look ghetto don't you? Classic racist white boy." Efia frowned, trying to get a rise out of William with her usual baiting. It was quite funny to misinterpret little things he did just to see him riled up.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Little Miss Nyamekye," He leaned in closer, "If I thought that or even wanted to say it, I would've said it. I'm not scared of you."

"Scared?  No. Jealous?" Efia let a smile creep on her face as William's eyebrows furrowed, "Evidently."

They were now so close that William could get a whiff of Efia's perfume, there were hints of vanilla and cinnamon in it that made his mind fuzzy. Fuck. Why does she have to smell so good?

Efia took in a breath of what had to be expensive cologne on William's neck, it had a strong minty base and she found herself getting a bit bitter; of course he's rich enough to spend money on crap like fancy cologne. He probably imports it straight from France. Brat.

"Excuse me, miss." William's best friend, Harry, politely shuffled past Efia and plonked down next to William. The two young men did their usual handshake before William turned to Efia, snorting.

"Try to stay awake for once, you can't let everyone keep seeing how lazy you are." He poked her arm like an irritating child.

"No can do, willy." Efia purred, eyes drooping, "Listening in lectures is for losers stuck in 2nd place."