Idolize Me

Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Locker 487. My locker. Home base. New schedule; run into building, move to destination one-locker-, get books out of locker, destination two: class.

Simple, absolutely no socializing or doing stupid things to gain attention by anyone. Move in, move out, don't be seen.

It's simple, really. All I must do is make it through the entire school year without mingling with any of my peers because the last thing I want is to get into drama with a bunch of rich college students with way too much time on their hands.

I took a deep breath of the morning air, and gazed one last time up at the university building before walking in. It's 7:48 a.m. and class starts at 8:00. I can easily get through the halls, put away my books, and make it to class before the doors lock.

Giving myself twelve minutes until class, minimizes any opportunities I might get to socialize, which is exactly why I should do it. It's either I come last minute, or come before anyone else.

And I'm not getting up two hours earlier.

Urging myself to move forward, I walked through the university doors, and headed straight for my locker.

Locker 487.

Trinity University is a special school, not only because it is one of the most elite schools in the country, but because it has everything a normal university wouldn't have. Unnecessarily large dorm rooms, marble flooring, a gift shop (yes, a gift shop), and personal lockers, which aren't exactly lockers at all, more so large wooden cases that anything you need for class can be stored in.

I opened the damned thing, which took precisely thirty-seven seconds because I almost forgot the combination to the lock, and placed my books inside. I began organizing each book in order from which class started first, to the last. I glanced at my watch, 7:52. Eight minutes to get to class.

I put my last book in the locker when I heard a shrilling squeal of excitement come from a girl running down the large flight of stairs with her friends. "He's here!"

Then, as if the entire school was on fire, everyone dropped what they were doing, and rushed towards the front doors, crowding around it like God Himself was right outside.

Unfortunately, Jesus was not the one standing outside.

I began hearing his name being said by many of the girls in the crowd and I knew exactly what was going on.

Ezra Scott.

A twenty-four-year-old rich boy with parents who are worth not just millions, but billions. It's no surprise everyone is freaking out that he's attending here. The Scott's name is known all over the world. They are considered the richest family in America. Ezra's grandparents have memorials dedicated to them, along with his parents having monuments, and soon, once he graduates, Ezra may just get his own.

Who am I kidding? Of course he will.

I was the only one who didn't run up to the doors in excitement. I stood plastered to my locker, and pretended to not care. I don't care. I care a little. 

Not many people can say they go to college with Ezra.

He's a billionaire, and his family are always trending in the news, so yes, I care. But I'm not infatuated with him, I'm just in awe that I go to the same university as Ezra Scott.

The crowd suddenly moved, making a path down the hall for Ezra to walk with ease. They treated him like royalty, and honestly, he might be richer than most princes anyway.

Disgusted, I kept my focus on my locker, and pretended to be oblivious to what was playing out in front of me. I know I look like the odd man out here, considering I'm the only one not in line or staring at Ezra like he's godly.

I had full view of the young billionaire as he strode down the hall with clothes that practically bled the word 'luxurious'. His hair, curly and dark. His eyes, soulless, like what you'd read about in a story when the villain is described. He's that villain, except young, and mildly attractive, but that's because he's rich and has a crew of people to work on his physical appearance every day. At least, that's what I assume he has.

Or he's just got money and good looks, lucky bastard.

He was talking to some girl beside him, and she was grinning wildly at him. I knew what she was up to, I knew what they all were up to. Ezra was single, Ezra wasn't married, Ezra has money. They don't want him, they want his money.

Who would want him? He's the definition of dazzling serial killer. His dead eyes practically scream, "I'm the Ted Bundy type". Just looking at him makes my finger itch to dial 9-1-1. 

I slammed my locker door shut, which made a noise way to loud, that overrode the noises of the crowd of students. Everyone's eyes went to me as if I just committed the biggest sin in the history of Trinity University.

Everyone's eyes, including Ezra's.

He looked annoyed like I just ruined his conversation, and then glanced at the other students who were all lined up. He must have noticed I wasn't in the line with them, because when he looked back at me, he had a totally different expression on his face.

He took a few steps towards me until he was close enough that if I wanted to touch him, all I'd have to do was extend my arm.

"What's your name?" He didn't just ask it, he said it in a tone that was demanding, like if I didn't give him an answer, he'd stab me in the eyes with his billionaire fingers.

Knowing I had to reply, I didn't think about what to say, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind; big mistake.

"Depends." I stated simply, "Who is asking?" Instant regret. 

His eyes widened at my response, and just like those movies, all the students who stood around him erupted in gasps and judgmental murmurings about how I had some nerve to talk to the great Ezra Scott that way. I think I may have a death wish, but it was kind of funny.

He held a look on his face like he could not believe what was happening, and honestly, I couldn't believe it either, "You must be joking."

"Do I look like I'm trying to fool you? I've never seen you before in my life." I'm practically nailing the lid to my coffin right now. It was a joke, but I've dug way too deep to climb out now.

"Are you stupid?" A blonde girl spoke up from the crowd, "You're talking to Ezra Scott, you know, billionaire, future heir of the Scott industry?" 

No shit, is what I wanted to say to her, but instead I frowned keeping up the charade because if I die, I'll die on this hill, "Nope, never heard of him."

She, along with Ezra, both shot me looks like I was scum on the floor. I took that as my opportunity to escape. "Now, if you don't mind, I have precisely two minutes and forty-nine seconds to get to class, and I'd like to not be late. Are we done here?" Maybe I should have just gone to community college.

His annoyance bleeds to boredom, I can tell he was already done with me, "Were you raised in a hole? I didn't think sheltered kids made it in to schools like this."

"Maybe you were raised with one too many admirers kissing your ass. I don't care about you, or your rich mommy and daddy so fuck off." I glanced down at my watch, my anxiety for being late -especially on the first day- began to grow as each second passed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by waving a spiteful goodbye before turning around, and marching down the corridor to my class room.

In a total of six minutes, I managed to break every singe rule I had made for myself while attending here. Either my subconscious wants me to die, or I really was born in a hole.

God, I wish I went to community college.