I walk into the building making sure to greet everyone when my eyes spot a familiar aura. This aura is the aura of a greedy, selfish, rich, rude, and bastardly jerk. It's him. Hilton Park. The world’s jerkiest jerk. I find that he also sees me. Well, no duh. I tell myself. It's six o’clock in the morning. I always come to school early because of Safer. When he comes, all hell breaks loose. I'm talking masses of heaps of people with their phones, shirts, iPads, MacBooks, Dells, Hps, everything a regular college student carries in their backpack. All of those people, and waiting for what? For Safer to sign their belongings.

Now, if I didn't know any better, I'd probably be standing in the middle of that crowd with my phone, also waiting for it to be signed. You may be thinking, what? They only need his signature once, so this is only for that day. You're wrong. This happens every, single day. It never stops. If there were to be a fire and we'd need to evacuate, please let that happen, everyone would, make a path for Safer to walk and make sure that he gets out safe (get it). Then Hilton would walk the path, then so on and so forth. If you were wondering, I'd be last, no matter what situation is at hand, I'd always be last. And I'm okay with that.

Alright, back to the jerk. The Jerk spots me and I look away. Damn. Doesn't work on him. He might not be as stupid as I thought.

“What are you doing there?” The Jerk says.

“None of your business, Jerk.”

“My name is Hilton, thank you very much,” he says in a snarky voice. “Now, I almost didn't see you because you're so short.” By now everyone who was here early is around us.

“Fuck you.” I retort in a quiet voice.

“What was that, Midget?” He asks, clearly knowledgeable of my earlier statement. If you weren't already aware, I am below average in everything. Height, weight, and the like.

“It wasn't anything, you...you…” I quiet down. There he is, shrouded in beauty and light, Safer stands by Hilton, grasping him arm. As if to stop him from punching me. Correction. To stop him from punching me.

He whispers something incomprehensible into Hilton’s ear as Hilton relaxes his arms. Then, he turns to me.

“Are you alright?” He scans my body, looking for any wounds. I stand in front of him, baffled. He's talking to me! What should I do? You don't realize how big of a deal this is. The most popular, handsome, and smartest guy in school starts talking to a nobody that probably no one even knew existed. I start freaking out in my mind.

“Yes,” I manage. “I'm fine, thanks for asking.” He smiles brightly and, oh God is he cute when he smiles, bows slightly, turns on his heel and leaves for class.