Haphephobia: the fear of being touched.
Blake, a second-year Psychology student, hadn't ever heard of such a phobia, until the day he was hired as a guide for Dean, the heir of a rich family.
Even though Dean had the appearance and behaviour of a ge...
This is the revised version of the original chapter 5 (part 2). Even if you have already read the original chapter, I would love to know your opinions on this version.
(for those who commented on the original: don't worry, I didn't delete the chapter, it's just not public anymore)
Please don't forget to vote and comment :)
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- How much until the class ends? - Blake whispered.
Mark gave a hushed groan as he rose his head from the pillow he had fashioned out of Blake's books.
- You just asked me that, - he complained, yet still checked his overpriced wristwatch. - Two minutes.
- If my phone wasn't running out of battery, I wouldn't ask you. And you aren't even paying attention.
- Who said? - Mark closed his eyes. - I'm meditating about class.
Before Blake could reply, the professor announced the end of class. Blake was the first to shoot to his feet once they had permission to leave, shoving his things in his backpack.
- Such a good boy. - Mark's eyes were still closed, but a smirk shaped his lips. - Does he give you treats?
In a swift motion, Blake pulled the books from under him. Mark let out a muted whimper of pain when his head smacked against the table.
- Dude, what the hell?
- Your two brain cells needed a factory reset. - Blake showed him an innocent smile. - See you after lunch.
Without waiting for Mark's retort, Blake sprinted out of the classroom and across campus.
Although he was sure Dean would be just fine, he could not help but worry. Only after he had left Dean for his first class, he had realised he had never asked Dean for his phone number. If something were to happen, there was no way for Dean to contact him.
Faster than he thought himself capable of, Blake reached the classroom. He placed a hand on the handle, peering through the small window to make sure the class had ended, before opening the door. Dean sat in the back corner of the room, alone at his desk. The room was completely silent, apart from the sound of the pen scratching the paper in the notebook.
Looking at him at that moment, the transformation was astonishing. The same nervous man Blake had left just a couple of hours earlier seemed like a distant memory. In the room's silence, completely engrossed in his notes, Dean radiated a professional air that commanded attention.
Blake knocked on the door to announce his presence. Dean's eyes cut from the paper to Blake and smiled, breaking the spell and turning him back to the friendly version Blake knew.
- Hey. - Blake gave a quick wave, approaching the table. - Class ended early?
- Twenty minutes early. The professor had a conference.
