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Elegantly dressed and standing directly above me was my ever-so-eager roommate. We had been living together for less than a week and yet, she called me her best friend to anyone who we encountered.

Paige was an interesting girl; but she was dressed her best for the second day of school.

"Lottie! Aren't you excited for today! C'mon, get up, get up!"

"Paige," I groaned, rolling over onto my side.

She grabbed my arm dramatically, pulling me to a sitting position in my strawberry printed bed.

I grabbed my small phone, checking the time.

10:47 AM

Shoot. I had to get ready and get to class as soon as possible. And I only had thirteen minutes to do so.

"I told you so," Paige exclaimed. "I knew you wouldn't want to miss your first ever European History class," she said, nudging her head in the direction of my bookshelf.

With Paige and I, there was a pretty low expectation for privacy. That of course could be seen by the way I was already halfway changed when she was done speaking.

"I suppose so, but I can't be late. I'm never late."

"Especially with Mr. Hard Ass." She laughed.

My first class of the day was with who everyone described as the toughest teacher on the whole campus. And here I was, running late for his class. I brushed the rats nest out of my wavy hair and threw on a pair of dark sunglasses, courtesy of Paige. I wasn't used to having dark circles under my eyes, but I could thank my new friend and stream of movie nights for the new appearance.

I rushed out of my dorm as quickly as my frail legs would take me. As soon as I entered the History hall, a rush of relief and cool air-conditioned air hit me like a bus. And then, just as I rounded the corner to my lecture room,  an actual bus hit me. Like, literally.

"Ouch," I winced, holding my hand over my cheek, where the sunglasses had dug into my skin. Something was stuck to my forearms, I was sure it was blood from the warm grasp in had on me. Until I realized that I was already inside, away from the possibility of busses, and the warm grasp was dark brown, not red.

"Damn. Sorry man."

I looked up to a chiseled face and big brown eyes staring down at me. This guy was like four feet taller than me.

"Oh shit you're a chick."

I winced at the overuse of cuss words-my mom would be having a cow right now- and said politely, "It's okay."

Attempting to glance around him, I spot a grandfather clock in the corner, which reads 11:02.

Crap.

"Wait, you're pretty cute. What's your name?" He asked inquisitively, staring very obviously at my lacey shirt covered chest. This is just like high school. I internally rolled my eyes, stepping to the side.

"Sorry- I uh, I have to get to class."

He attempted to block my escape by putting his arm against the wall, though luckily, I was able to duck under.

"Wait- my name's Conner!" His yell behind me faded out. What an oddball.

I awkwardly jogged to the door which held my class. It stood high and strong as I put all of my might into pushing it open. Of course, knowing my luck, the door was locked. The world was just mocking me, at this point.

I stood next to it, pulling out my phone to check the time again. 11:05. I was five minutes late, tired from binge watching chick flicks with Paige, and certainly looking the part.

His Name Was RonanDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora