Rebecca chose the chair next to mine. I had no qualms however she did rouse me from a nap and I was rather enjoying the peace. She set her stuff down next to my chair and plopped in her seat. Her shoulders were wet from the rain and her mascara ran but she otherwise seemed in good spirits. She flipped open her notebook and wrote the date, time, and class and held her hand poised just above her paper.
Without warning, she turned to me and leaned against the back of her chair. I didn’t actually think about the fact that we were the only two in the room and she sat next to me. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” She looked down at me with a syrupy smile. I smirked and nodded.
“Just perfect for a stroll.” I moved to do the same as she had, preparing notes.
“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself to you yet, we’ve been here two years and I don’t even know your name! I’m Rebecca Albright or just Becca.” She flicked her pen at me and gave me the once over with her eyes.
I flipped open my notebook and scribbled the date. “I’m Asran. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” I held out my hand and she shook it gingerly, seemingly satisfied. Satisfied with what, that remains to be seen.
Her eyes flicked to the only color on my body that wasn’t black, besides the hair. She was hyper-aware of the tattoos gracing my body, even moving in her chair to get a better look. I couldn’t blame her; they were meant to draw attention. The harp on my forearm and the wing peeking out from my shirt on the shoulder closest to her were picked with much care. A startling navy blue to match my color palette. My back was riddled with beautiful markings. The wings she so scrutinized were attached to a falling skeleton. Icarus, or Lucifer? You can decide. My other shoulder boasted a skeletal dragon. On my spine resided a greek column: an ode to my mother, although she didn’t approve of the tattoo. All the same color, all attention-seeking and pretentious. For how can I truly be thorough in my observations if I do not study the observations made of me? Thinking to myself though I’m beginning to realize that maybe objectivity is unattainable. I’m actively making decisions to do and say things that influence peoples’ perceptions of me. That’s just how one lives.
I really need to stop thinking.
Rebecca, once again, displayed signs of approval. Her gaze danced across my body and its many gaudy features. My all-black wardrobe, my red and white hair, my narrow gaze as it scanned my notes from yesterday. I could feel her penetrating stare. I was not uncomfortable. Far from it, actually. I was observing too.
“Asran, why do I barely see you on campus?” She crossed her legs and folded her arms. Is she huffing and puffing about not seeing me around?
“When you look for me, I’ll be there.” I winked. She moved to say something but the professor came in and the lecture began.
Rebecca Albright: made the dean’s list last semester but barely studies. Bright, bubbly. If she were a cocktail, she’d be something fruity.
Asran Priest: an intellectual but hardly motivated. Can do better if they so choose, but would rather choose not to. The reason for this is unclear. Could be summed up with a single word: ‘fuck.’
Why she was showing signs of interest in me is uncertain. I don’t know even if it was interest or curiosity. I definitely didn’t have the look of a student of Abrus University. Because of this, I had previously thought that her voracious hunger for a wider social circle discluded me. However, her tentative glances to her right at my goblin-like form as I furiously took notes made it clear that I had once again assigned to her a stereotype that I had no right to assign.
Rebecca Albright followed me out of the lecture hall. It was still raining but something told me she was not lying about its pleasantness, or her willingness to take a stroll. Neither she nor I had an umbrella, but she followed me anyway. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone as she followed me to the library. How she could walk in those, on cobblestone, was impressive.
“What’s your major, Asran?”
“Forensics.”
“That’s so interesting. Much more interesting than business.”
“Business can be interesting.”
“The business here isn’t very interesting. What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Forensics.”
“Wow, you’re really passionate! I’m not that passionate about business. But I am definitely passionate about the cake they’re serving in the dining hall today. Have you had the cake?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s really good. It has strawberries in it.”
“I like strawberries.”
“Me too!” She seemed delighted that she found something we had in common. I feel guilty about that; I’m more of an observer than a talker and I wasn’t making this easy for her.
“Is this your stop?” She pointed at the cut stone of the library’s facade, prominently romanesque in style and obviously meant to draw attention away from the uncomely science quad which jutted rudely from the main student oval like a bone from flesh. Among the first buildings constructed for Abrus, the science quad was an eyesore and easily the most hated cluster of buildings in all of the roughly 300 acres that made up the university. People avoided it like the plague, and lucky enough for me, I basically lived there.
The library, however, was and still is my favorite building on campus. Its juxtaposition to the literal garbage of the science quad made me feel less alone.
Rebecca glanced at the intimidating building before us. I nodded once, shouldering my bag. She pouted a little as I waved goodbye without another word. Like I said before if she truly wanted to see me again, she’d see me on campus. It may be for a second as I walked to class or grabbed lunch but I frequent this area. She’ll be fine if I just left. I began to walk up the steps but stopped in my tracks when her small hand wrapped around my arm and lightly tugged me backward.
“Wait, Asran? Can I get your number?”
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