"I am going to murder that guy." I thought for the twentieth time that morning. That literal piece of garbage made me walk for twenty minutes in the Antarctica-esque weather I had been blessed with that morning. I only learned I was headed in the wrong direction when a professor told me that the library was on the other side of campus and that I must be an idiot for believing a student crazy enough to be up this early. Unfortunately, I knew nothing about the aforementioned piece of garbage, so revenge wasn't a likely option. Yet. 

Anyway, thanks to that idiot, I had to grit my teeth and rush to the Languages building for my first class. As I stepped into the classroom, I realised that it was a pretty big class; around thirty people were already there. I got there just in time, by some miracle, and by then I had calmed down about getting pranked within an hour of arriving at this godforsaken institution. I surveyed the room, looking for someone who didn't seem like the kind of person who would recognise me as the British Prime Minister's son. I spotted a fairly empty corner of the classroom. The only other person there was a girl who didn't seem like the type who would be overeager to start a conversation with me, so I sat down at the desk in front of her. The room was quite loud, as most of the students were chattering away enthusiastically, but I didn't really mind the noise. 

"That doesn't mean that I like being here," I thought quickly. "I'm just...putting up with it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sit down at the desk beside me. "So, we meet again." I heard a somewhat familiar voice chuckle. Of course, it had to be him. It was the little shit who had made me go in circles trying to find a library earlier. I groaned internally and glued my eyes to the ceiling. Calm down, Alistair. You cannot punch someone on the first day of school.