Heaven Sinclair is almost too good to be true, with a pure heart and a smile that shines through. However, beneath her sunny disposition, she still bears the scar of Graham Fletcher's past betrayal.
Forced to work together on a college project, the...
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When I was in highschool, Chemistry was my least favourite subject. I was fairly good in the practical classes, but when it came to the actual classes where we'd write notes, I just wasn't interested.
However, in the two weeks that I've had Mr. Hawthorne as my Chemistry lecturer, that has changed.
Maybe it's because him being the youngest lecturer here makes him easy to relate with. Or maybe it's his eccentric way of dressing.
Today, he's paired a lime green, button up shirt, with baggy cargo pants of the same colour. The only thing he's wearing that doesn't hurt to look at is the black beret that covers his dark blonde mop of curly hair.
"Lia swears that her Photography lecturer is weirder than this guy," Naomi's remark makes me turn to her.
In the two weeks that I've known them, Naomi and Ophelia have become very important to me.
Due to the fact that they've known each other since middle school, I initially thought we wouldn't get along. But after bonding over our similarities—and arguing over our differences—we've become an inseparable trio.
"I doubt that," I snort.
We both turn towards the front of the class, waiting for Mr. Hawthorne to begin.
"Chemistry is an art." He grins, gesturing with his hands. "It's a delicate, but powerful process that happens every day, all around us. From the air we breathe, to a hot bowl of noodles in broth, to a good cup of coffee. It's all Chemistry."
He heads towards the whiteboard, then uses a black marker to write WHAT TIME IS IT? IT'S PROJECT TIME!
I raise a curious eyebrow, glancing about the class.
My classmates are muttering to each other, but I can't tell if it's because our lecturer is clearly a child at heart, or because they're also wondering why he's giving us a project this early into the semester.
If he can feel our eyes on him, he doesn't show it. Instead, he walks over to his desk and pulls out a small stack of papers from his black messenger bag.
His face contorts into a frown as he looks up. "What's all the noise about?"
"Um, Mr. Hawthorne?" A redhead sitting in front speaks, her hand held above her head.
He acknowledges her with a tip of his chin.
The girl drops her hand. "Why are you giving us a project now? Isn't it too early?"
