Worth Solving {Dylan O'Brien}

Chapter Thirty-One

A/N: My apologies for the wait, but i've been working on a few other things i'd like to start putting up. I'm here now though! This summer should be a good slate for me to work with, but at some times I won't be able to get on because I have a camp that i'm going to in July and i'm moving again in August and visiting my brother at his base right before. I'm not super happy with this chapter but then again I do like it, so mixed feelings I suppose? Let's get this started then. -Melissa xx

31.

{Genesis' P.O.V.}

I rubbed the heel of my palm absently, scrawling words in deep blue ink for an hour straight while sitting on the stone steps outside of the English department of UCLA. My pen twiddled between my fingers, the red nail lacquer already chipped, although they always seemed to be in that state no matter what I tried. My thoughts that should've been on my assignment were drifting away from me, far enough that I couldn't reach for them anymore.

I'd had this feeling before, and I knew exactly what it meant.

All I could think of was a beach, a bookstore and bikes, all of them interlocking themselves with fiery characters and dip in the weather.

I was getting an idea for another book, and it was demanding itself to be known.

University, working on the new season of Teen Wolf and now I had a desperate need to work on a new novel. I was getting so in over my head.

I glanced around, the large stairset leading out of the English building practically empty. It was perfectly calm, and only a couple other people sat at different levels from me. I definitely didn't mind calm.

It might've been seen as ridiculous that I hadn't exactly made any friends in nearly two months at uni, but I found it to be an above average for me.

Shifting sideways, I rested my back against the stone used for railing of the stairs and flicked to the next song on my mobile. It felt like a My Chemical Romance kind of day to me, and so I would make it just that.

The doors of the English building seemed to burst open, my legs coming up to my chest as feet started to pound the stone steps in a mad dash.

I could never see the big rush to get away from the lessons. I always felt safe in the English class, whether it be Oxford or here, even.

I had an urge to get up and leave, able to feel the people passing staring at me. Although, I was thankful that I was nearly deaf from my music so I couldn't hear the whispers that I could clearly see lining their lips as they looked to their mates and then to me.

I balanced my notebook on my thighs, clicking and unclicking my pen until I thought I found my way back to my essay topic for class.

And then the name Quinn came to mind.

I pushed a piece of hair that had fallen from my braided side fringe back behind my ear. Avoiding the ear bud, I twisted my earring absently.

There was no way I could trick myself out of writing this book.

I crossed my ankles as I found a new page in my notebook and titled it in purple ink after switching out my pens on pure impulse. My vans scuffed each other but I ignored it as 'Quinn' in cursive topped the paper.

The crowd of students started to clear and so did the odd stares in my direction.

I was just glad that no one here knew the nickname I had while in secondary school. It was truly horrendous.

My headphones were suddenly tugged out and a voice came behind me. "Can you get out this weekend?"

I jumped a little, having to look to up and to my side. "Jesus." I mumbled, laughing at myself. "Hi to you too."