The portly boy stood there, his eyes fixed on his polished shoe like there was a rolling stone next to it.
The breeze blew against his overly ironed shirt, threatening to expose is rotund belly.
He face was covered in pimples, the size of a basket ball.
"I like you." He whispered.
"What!" I half yelled.
It wasn't a question. It was a response. I was irritated.
He began to fidget, his eyes averted. Hands playing aimlessly with the hem of his top.
I let out a gruff snort
"I I sa-ai-id tha-aa..." He began to stammer.
"I heard." I said, looking at his face but unable to meet his eyes as they seemed more interested in the debris and pebbles.
He opened his mouth about to speak again, but I interrupted him.
"And I'm not interested." My lips twitched upward with a disapproving scorn as I observed his demeanour. I gulped down the remaining of my coffee
"Why?" He questioned quickly, daring but only for a moment to stare back at me.
I sighed. A deep and long exasperated sigh.
"Because I'm not interested." I emphasised each word.
I grabbed my books, closed my laptop, pushed the table forward, and began to stand.
"But we can be friends." He stated. Not asked. He no longer stammered. His brown eyes gleamed with hope.
I clicked my tongue, eying him.
"Who are you again?" I asked, standing with my laptop and books
"Jackson. I'm in the department of..."
I had already started to walk away, nodding my head.
"It was nice to meet you, Jackson." I said without turning around.
"Same here, Aliya." He called after me.
I could hear the faint sound of his feet stomping and a joyful "Yes!"
I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath whilst quickening my pace.
I was supposed to enjoy this chill evening with a cup of hot coffee and work on completing my project, not deal with someone trying to hit on me.
A nerd nonetheless. An awkward antisocial boy.
I stopped in front of my college building, adjusting my skirt, and clutched my stationary to my chest
The shirt I wore seemed to reveal more cleavage than deemed necessary.
It was like I could already mentally feel the eyes of judgemental women who would certainly scold me for "tempting" the male students and the men
I knew what was coming next - the same old lecture about "decency" from the school administration, delivered by women who looked like they were stuck in the past or a time wrap
It's becomes dreadful when they begin to use themselves as a point of reference.
Their unfashionable hideous long skirt almost sweeping all the dirts that lies. The cemetery was more exciting than their tops, with their bland colors and outdated styles.
Or worse, the hypocritical forbiddance by the men and their next to all familiar words "See me in my office." After leering at my my chest or thighs.
I entered an empty, abandoned classroom, the familiar silence washing over me. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the quiet space to gather my thoughts. But as soon as I stepped into the room, my feet froze, my breath catching in my throat. There was someone else here, and it was him.
I'd never seen him in this classroom before. It was always just me and the emptiness, a space where I could breathe. But now, he was here, and everything felt different.
Yes, him.
My brain stopped. My breath hitched. My heart thumped loudly.
I was about to speak but he beat me to it
It felt like forever, but he only assessed me with his gaze curtly.
His eyes held that usual boredom, but it felt like he was staring deep within my soul.
At the vague emptiness.
Piercing my being with his confident, unwavering regard.
He didn't say a word.
He just nodded nonchalantly at me.
He grabbed his bag and stepped out.
I was left alone in the class, and I felt extremely cold, slowly releasing my breath.
I closed and reopened my eyes, walking to a distant seat close to the window.
"Project." I repeated to myself, trying to control my disoriented thoughts.
