Boy In My Class [Gerard Way]

Chapter 1: Wrong Class

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Nervously, I pushed open the big wooden doors into the lecture theatre. I clutched my notepad tightly in my hands as I walked up the tiered seats and found a comfortable area in the back corner by the window. I opened my notepad to a fresh blank page and took out a pen, ready to take notes. I was beginning the first lecture of my History degree at New York University. I had taken the first two years of my course in London and for my final year I had transferred to NYU as my dissertation was to be based on History in this area. I was nervous, excited and really shy.

The class slowly filled up and I was disheartened when nobody came to sit next to me. I watched people greet their friends in a warm manner and realised that I must be the only one in the class who didn't know somebody else, making me feel awkward. 

The lecturer walked in abruptly and opened up a laptop. She wrote on the whiteboard the name of the course. 'Global Hip-Hop and the Politics of Culture.'

Shit! I'm in the wrong class! 

I shut my notepad and got ready to leave when the lecturer began to speak loudly and with an angry tone. In fear, I sat tight and decided I would just miss my first History lecture and endure this so I didn't draw any attention to myself on the way out of class. Half-way through the class, she declared that we would have a five-minute break and I quickly seized my opportunity to escape. I slid past her as she answered another student's question and made my way back out of the wooden doors and into the hallway. I began to walk hastily to try and make the second half of my lecture, but I accidentally walked straight into somebody in the hallway.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" I blabbered. I looked up to see I had walked into a boy who had just been sat in my lecture. I had knocked him hard enough that he had split his coffee cup all down his black t-shirt.

"That's alright," he said with a slightly irritated tone. "You're in my class aren't you?"

"Uhm, yeah- no, I was in the wrong class, so I'm leaving to go to my proper class," I said with a weak laugh.

"Oh- what are you studying? It would have been so rad to have a British girl taking a music degree here!"

"History," I said, rolling my eyes with a smile. "Could I be anymore boring?"

"Do you like The Smiths?" he asked bluntly, not responding to the last thing I said.

"Yeah," I said. "Big fan. You can tell just because i'm British and my hair is black?"

"Stereotyping," he smiled. "Morrissey played at the Capitol Theatre last Tuesday, did you go?"

"No," I said with an exasperated moan. "I only arrived in New York on Thursday, but I knew about it. So bummed I missed it!"

"Well, it was intense," he smiled. "Anyway I gotta get back to class- maybe see you around if you get into the wrong class again." He stook his hand out for me to shake which I thought was unusually formal for a twenty-one year old (assuming he was the same age as myself). I took a good look at him as I shook his hand. He had soft green eyes and shaggy black hair that fell in front of his eyes. His smile was cute but a little lopsided. He was dressed all in black, with a plain black t-shirt, skinny black jeans and black Converse. He was cute.

"Yeah hopefully!" I said, before walking away. Why did I say hopefully? That made me sound so needy...

"Hey!" he called. I turned around in the hallway to meet his gaze. "My band is playing at the bar next door to University Hall tomorrow night. If my stereotyping is accurate enough, you might be into it!"

I turned away and grinned to myself. I may have just made my first friend in the United States. And he was a good looking one! My only problem now was...what am I supposed to wear so I don't look like a complete loser?!