Minder: Secrets of Mind

Chapter 8

During class Eve got the fix she needed to get the vision out of her head, drawing it in one of her notebooks. Having arrived late, she entered almost entirely unnoticed, with most of the class locked in sleep or low conversation; the professor had stepped out somewhere and opted to play a video of something rather than go over the syllabus. She found an opening near the back of the class of isolated and empty seating and took it. Her isolation and artist flow was interrupted almost instantly by the sudden seat change of a student several rows in front of her to her area of the room. Judging by his overstuffed lanyard in his pocket, she could only confirm that he was some kind of freshman who didn't understand personal space.

For some reason , he thought it the bright idea to attempt to shoot his shot with her, which was probably the worst idea he had had in his short life. She could ignore his pesky nature and random failed jokes for a bit, but that wasn't going to last forever. He was breaking her flow while she worked. Not wanting to be the center of attention, once the professor returned to the room, she got up and slid herself a few seats down to avoid directly telling him off. In the hope that would be the final hammer in the coffin for the kid, but it wasn't even close. He kept up his flirting attempts even though he wasn't getting an ounce of attention from her.

As people began exiting, she finished her drawing, clearing her head and thoughts with a deep breath. A warning if the kid was of any smarts—he wasn't.

"You know your hair is super beautiful; I was thinking about letting mine grow out some but not too much. Kind of like yours, shoulder-length is good enough, am I right?"

"Wouldn't be a good idea." She quips back.

"Oh...I mean, yeah, maybe keep it bouncy but no lower than the ear, right? Least till you know it starts filling out things and what not."

"No, you are still too low. Don't cover your ears so you can hear when you receive silence from people occupied by other things and utterly uninterested. And don't carry around your lanyard. It's a freaking ID card, and you are a grown adult. Either use a wallet or a freaking money clip and put the lanyard in a scrapbook or something. Oh, and this is college, not High School. I am nicer than most would be, so chill your hormones and let your brain be at ease. Don't talk about looks. Talk about uninteresting, boring stuff like how you didn't sleep much last night or what café is best for dining. If you got other classes, whether you went to them or not, talk about how much work you are going to have. Girls here do not need any validation from you on day one; they already all think they are the hottest shit since Beyonce was born. Because the guys who broke their hearts in High School aren't around, and neither are the bitches they hated. Save the compliments about looks for when you are a solid couple, and she wants to tear her damn hair out during Exam week. When she definitively believes herself a failure and ugly and stupid and not what her parents want. Because right now, and seeing as I wasn't replying, you come off as the weirdest fucking creep in all of campus, and that is saying a lot because half of these damn fraternities got some truly horrific horror stories walking in and out of them each and every day." She snaps, keeping is paralyzed with every word.

Taking her leave, she passes alongside him through the row and to the stairs alongside the chairs; while passing his backpack, she notices his laptop sticking out and all the stickers he has covering it. Everything from video game and anime characters to a photo of him and his friends at Prom. All guys, so she assumed either they were all going stag, or they were all couples. Meaning she either put down someone who likely never actually approached a girl before and was just trying to do it a nice way with as little cringe as possible, or she just heavily insulted a gay man, thinking he was trying anything else other than being her friend. Unable to bear the possible lining of either possibility, she stops and turns to look back at him, his head low and face dealing with a heap of rejection and judgment.