not a love story. {dreamnotfound}

one.

hello hello!! I am back believe it or not and I have been working on multiple new works. This being one of them. I have a short story book coming out in a few minutes as well so be ready for that. I am still working on "You Led My Heart" but I am currently feeling no motivation with that story at all and I'm not too sure why so I figured I would give you guys some content in the mean time! I hope you enjoy ;)

So without further adieu...
I present to you,
New beginnings.

"Good afternoon, everyone. My name is George Davidson. You can refer to me by George or
Mr. Davidson, either is fine." He smiles widely, as an attempt to brighten the room of half asleep students.

"I will be your assistant for this course." He tells the group of fifty, while neatly scrawling his name and email on the whiteboard. "This is a lower level course, so the Professor will just be overseeing it, I'll be doing all of the actual teaching and grading."

Somewhere at the back of the room he hears some girl whisper, 'Holy shit, he's British.' It would have been funny . . . if the room didn't reek with the pungent scent of sweaty college boys, over-perfumed girls, and desperation.

"I assume none of you have read the syllabus, so we might as well go over it today." George speaks over his shoulder as he cracks open a window. The late August air is humid and sticky, but still an immense improvement from the dank classroom scent. "After doing so, we'll get started with an easy assignment. Feel free to ask me anything, as well." He smiles softly.

It's a simple task really, but George finds himself explaining the same thing over-and-over. By the end of the class, only one student remains in the back of the room, hands gripping at his hair as he types profusely at his laptop. He's blonde, tall, and well built. He looks like he's probably popular, the type that isn't liked but feared. How typical.

"Dream, is it? That a nickname?"

"Yeah." Dream snaps aggressively, but doesn't elaborate any further. By the letterman jacket they wear, it seems they don't need to.

"Are you part of a frat? Got that name when they pledged you?" George crosses his arms and leans over the grey desk. He's not trying to be an asshole, but sarcasm does tend to come much more easily than small talk to him, and Dream seems like he could stand to be humbled anyways.

"What's it to you?" Dream narrows his eyes.

"Nothing." George smiles and gestures to the screen. "It's just . . . I've watched you make the same mistake in five different ways. You keep messing up your syntax. You're treating Python like it's Java."

"Excuse me?" Dream glares at him.

George ignores them and leans closer to the laptop, squinting at the lines of code. "Look. You have all these semicolons, that's why you keep getting an error."

"Did I ask?" Dream snaps. "I'm not a dumbass, I would've figured that out. So like fuck off, yeah?"

"I'm just trying to help you." George laughs, throwing his hands up in defense as he pulls a chair up to sit at the desk beside him. "I'm grading these assignments, I don't want to give you a low grade over a small mistake if I don't have to."

"I don't want help." Dream balls his rough hands into fists under his desk, attempting to go unnoticed, but George being the person he is, does notice. "Leave."

"No. I don't think I will actually." George laughs humorlessly. "I'm paid to be annoying. Fix your code."

"Whatever." Dream slams shut his laptop and shoves it in his bag. He stands up from the desk, chair screeching loudly against the floor in the otherwise silent classroom. "I'm leaving now."