I Bet I Would

Chapter 90: The Cold Treatment

FRANZ

"For your assignment, I want you to make two papers, one on "Feminist Activists Campaign on Women's Rights" and "Influence of Miley Cyrus' Twerking on Society". Submit these on or before Friday. Leave it in my pigeon hole at the Sociology department."

"He's serious isn't he? Miley Cyrus' twerking?" Paulene asked Mischa, the Asian girl on her right.

Mischa just rolled her eyes.

"Well, I think that it will be a very interesting topic. I mean, it's very timely. You see loads of parodies on YouTube, the twerking is stirring up a lot of controversies," I chimed in.

Paulene just pretended not to hear me.

Again.

It's been over a week since she last talked to me.

I clenched my fist, trying to suppress my rage.

I think I have already given her enough space and time that she needed. 

It's just wrong for her to treat me like this.

Like as if I don't exist.

If she hated my confession so much, if she won't approve of my feelings for her, then she should've said something at the very least.

This is just so fucking unfair.

And I don't regret confessing.

God knows I mean it.

And I still love her even if she's being such a B--

Such a beautiful girl.

I inhale deeply and let out a heavy breath.

You're in luck that I love you so much, Paulene.

But you're making me feel like shit!

Fuck!

I then just snapped and punched my desk.

I heard gasps.

"Anything wrong, Mr. Richmond?" Professor Dale asked.

I can feel everyone staring at me.

Damn it.

I look beside me and see that Paulene seems like she doesn't care. It's like I wasn't existing and she is hearing none of these.

I turned to the professor and said, "Sorry Sir, I think I need to step out for a bit first."

"Okay, Mr. Richmond. You have five minutes," He answered before resuming to his discussion.

And with that, I stood and walked out of the classroom.

Her being like this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

Worst than what I've felt for Tiffany before.

I kept walking on the hallway, out of the building.

"FUCK!" I shouted.

"Feeling better?" A pretty ebony-skinned, short-haired girl in a red and white off-shoulder top said.

I take another deep breath and forced a smile before saying, "A bit."

"Come, sit here beside me," She urged.

I took a seat beside her on the edge of the concrete plant box.

"Ciara, how about you?"

"Franz."

She then took out a pack of cigarettes from her bag.