Not Like You

Chapter Fifteen

"Where did Max go?" Harlow asked, looking around the near-empty dorm.

"He left. he said he had to take care of something," I say, sitting back down on my bed and staring at the ceiling.

"What did Ethan say?" I ask, trying to change the subject. It seemed to work because Harlow smiled.

"Good. he couldn't talk much because I caught him at the end of his break, but he was really happy to hear from me," she said, crawling into her bed and grabbing her sketchbook.

"That's good. I'm going to warn you now if you end up getting more involved with him, you might crash into some of my family drama," she shrugs.

"it would be better than mine,"

I leave it at that, putting my headphones back on and staring at the ceiling for the rest of the day.

***********

"So, today, we are starting a new project," Professor Scott said. I took out my notebook and pen, ready to hear the assignment.

"Everyone has heard of or read Romeo and Juliet at one point, am I correct?" he asked. we all nodded and he continued, "Good because our next assignment has to do with Shakespeare," I smiled, giddy with joy. Shakespeare was one of my favorite authors of all time.

"Pick any Shakespeare novel, play, or sonnet by Shakespeare. Finish it by not this Monday, but the following one. That is what we will be using class time for this entire week. On Thursday, I want an update on where you stand. I realize this is a daunting task, but it will all be in good faith. The assignment will be assigned after you finish your readings, but I'll give you the prompt now," he went up to his giant blackboard and grabbed a piece of white chalk.

"Take one character from your reading and write their death," I frowned and looked at professor Scott. Shakespeare had many 'good' death scenes. Why would we write our own?

"Some of you may be asking, why? Well, the answer to that is simple," he leaned on the front of his desk.

"Shakespeare has written some of the best tragedies of all time. I want to see if you can take his style of writing and infuse your own style in it, trying to accomplish his greatness," I looked at my paper and was hit with how difficult this would be for me.

Shakespeare is too good for a group of college students.

When class was dismissed, I went to Professor Scott.

"Professor Scott, with this assignment, I have a few questions," he nodded and went behind his desk, grabbing his glasses and putting them on, grabbing a file folder of a different class' work.

"Shoot,"

"Well, when you say, 'write their deaths' do you mean literal or figurative,"

"it's up to you. As long as something of Shakespeare's dies," I frowned and tugged at my shirt.

"Miss Rose, I may call you that, correct?" I nodded, "Miss Rose, I have complete faith in you for this project. I was surprised how effortlessly you have been flying through this class, and am seriously considering saving a space for you next semester already," I gulped as he went on, " I am an author too. I understand it may be hard to write things you don't understand. So make yourself understand. You're a writer. Write the rules," I nodded and said my goodbye, zipping up my jacket and leaving the lecture hall, and making my way to the Auto Center.

When I got there, I saw Seven people missing.

"Jesus, Mickey, what happened?" I asked upon entering. he shrugged.

"Food poisoning. Most of the campus is down. Something bad in the food. I was thinking of just cutting class today if that's okay with everyone," the five of us left, (including Max) nodded.

"Alright. You all have participation points. Go," I nodded and left the way I came, avoiding Max for real.

Too bad he caught up with me.

I felt someone's hand on my arm and my eyes got wide. I turned to see Max his face soft. I wriggled my arm out of his hand.

"Sorry. You walked so fast out of Auto, you wouldn't even let me see you," he said. I shook my head.'

"What we did yesterday was wrong,"

"Why?"

"It just was," he got closer to me and my heart sped up.

"I'm sorry, then, you just seemed like you liked it," he said, running his hand up my arm.

"That was because I did,"

"Then why id it so wrong?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I don't trust people easy, an I don't just kiss people. It just felt wrong,"

"Why don't you trust me?"

"I've known you for a month,"

"And I've been responsible," I sighed and looked around. He seemed to notice.

"We can go back to your dorm to talk, so we're not in the open," I sigh again.

"No, Harlow will be there enjoying the whole thing,"

"Do you want to come to my place? My roommate is never there," I crossed my arms.

"I guess so,"

He leads me to his dorm and unlocks his room.

His dorm was all black on one side and all white on the other. I was correct in guessing the black side was his.

"This is an oxymoron room," I mumble. Max motions for me to sit on his bed and I do. He sits next to me and I scoot farther away.

"I've already told you I like you, which was hard if I'm being honest. The alcohol had a say in me telling you," I look at my lap.

"What I told you the first day I met you was true. Nice people are seductive in their own right. I can't help getting feelings for you. I'm just wondering if you feel the same way," I bite my lip and think.

"Max, I don't know how I feel. I know that whenever you are around, I'm happy, and I enjoy working on cars with you, which is rare, because I'm picky, but with my last boyfriend," I pause, "it's just hard for me to trust people. And to open up to people. I'm just not good with people,"

"I'm not either,"

"I wouldn't have told you I liked you if our roles were switched,"

"I didn't plan on telling you,

"I wouldn't even have told you drunk,"

"Rose, it's like you put up a wall," I shrugged.

"I guess I have," his hand creeps over and squeezes mine,"

"So what are we going to do, Miel?" I sigh and look over at him, his brown eyes sparkling at the sight of me. My stomach flutters and I look away.

"I don't know. Let's keep it casual for now. Maybe we can figure it out along the way. You're a good friend,"

"And possibly more?"

"No promises,"

I get up and dust myself off.

"Do you want me to walk you back?"

"No, I'm good,"

"goodbye, Miel,"

I wave and walk out of his dorm, walking out of the building and taking the long way back to mine.

I did the right thing, I tell myself. You told him the truth. Maybe then you can not be awkward around him. But I knew I was lying to myself. One kiss is all it takes. Now I can't look at him the same, and I'm still deciding if that's a good or bad thing.