Chapter 29: Serious Stacy

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Stacy

Friday Morning found me in one of my major classes, and all the wooden desk-chairs have been pushed aside, lined up against the white walls in order to make more space for the activity.

Ever since I arrived in the classroom, guys have been throwing me blatant stares, while the girls sent me acidic glares.

I knew I looked gorgeous, as per usual.

Today I wore a simple white,short-sleeved polo, inky blue jeans, black flats, and my luscious blonde hair was drawn up into a high and wavy bun, tied back by a cute pink scrunchie.

Mrs. Trinidad, our professor, clapped her hands twice,garnering our attention. "Okay, class, you have precisely one hour to finish your tasks and consult with your chosen clients. You may begin." Then she approached her white desk and sank on the chair behind it, surveying all of us.

I placed my coral pink sewing kit on a nearby desk and clicked open the box, picking up a pencil, a small notepad, and a rolled-up measuring tape.

Tucking the #2 pencil behind my ear, spearing through some golden tresses, I turned to face my client: A tall, frowning 18-year old with deep blue eyes and brown bangs swept to the side.

I gave him a poker look, daring him to piss me off like a few days ago. "What?" I tonelessly asked.

Bryce kept on frowning at me. "Can you not look at me like that?"

"This is my natural face," I told him in a flat tone as I unfurled the measuring tape in my hands.

"Oh? Your expression always conveys attempted murder?"

Unfazed, my features remained stoic and unyielding as I unrolled my sizer-tape.

"Again, this symmetrical face is innate." I finally reached both ends of my measurement tool.

I held the long, numbered tape between my hands and my sky blue eyes flew to his blue ones.

Taking a step towards him, I instructed: "Arms out. Side to side."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Stretch your arms out on either side," I repeated patiently. "I need to take your measurements."

Bryce hesitated for a moment, but he complied to my order, lifting both his arms to the sides.

After a few seconds, I wrote down the lengths of him arms and broad shoulders. While recording the information on my notepad, I heard a male voice clear his throat. I peered up from my pad.

I asked him: "What?"

"Are you still miffed about your ex?"

I felt my body stiffen at his query. I gave him a withering glare. "What do you think?"

"There's no need to---"

"With all due respect, Mr. De Los Reyes, I would prefer a less personal ambiance. Height?"

"Excuse me?"

"What is your height?" I prompted him, tapping my pencil on my notepad.

"Six-four." I quickly logged that detail onto my paper and commanded him to raise his arms again. He wordlessly obeyed. I could feel the scowls of my female classmates on the back of my head. I feigned ignorance, aware that half of this section drooled over Bryce De Los Reyes.

"Stacy."

"Right now, I am Miss Sta. Ana to you."

I walked around him in a circle until I was standing behind him. He craned his neck to glance at me but I sternly told him to keep his gaze ahead of him.

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