chapter 3

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Albert Einstein once said, "The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education." Saying I couldn't relate to this master mind's quote would be the biggest damn lie.

For years now, 13 to be precise, I've been forced to wake up at an inhumane hour, go to school, get an 'education' and focus on my so-called future. In school, you're pressured and taught things that would probably not matter by the time you're 25. It's all complete and utter bullśhit.

Whether you become some striking physician or you're some prostitute standing at the curb of a different club every other night, at the end of the day you're earning a living to keep you going through life until you die.

Our diplomas won't matter; neither would our love life, our friendships, the people we're associated with on a daily basis, absolutely nothing would be buried along our desiccated, lifeless bodies in our graves.

We're all doomed eventually.

Due to having had one course less than most students my age the previous year, I was forced to choose an extra course to take this year. I went for Psychology, not because I feel like becoming a therapist or anything, but because I find the human mind fascinating, as well as human activity in general- given my past, it's supposed help me 'find inner peace with myself' as Papa said when he found out I chose this course.

As I make my way into my Psychology class, I note all the blissful facial expressions I'm greeted with, whilst a flat one is plastered on my face.

If it isn't already palpable, I'm not a morning person, not at all. I get all these pessimistic thoughts and drift into another world. I swear to God, if a person is seen smiling before 10am it's apparent they're mentally retarded or something.

As if Satan himself heard my rather unpleasant thoughts, I spot Mr. Tongue smiling to himself revealing his dimples as I enter my psychology lecture. He's probably fantasizing over a banana or some weird shit like that.

Wait. What? He actually goes here? I just assumed he was some pervert that tends to use the oldest lines in the book to get into a girl's pants. Damn.

I can't help but feel a little less dreary at the sight of him, it's not that I like him or anything, it's just that he makes pissing him off way too easy and rewarding in a way.

I take a seat right next to him, causing his piercing green eyes to land on my light brown ones.

"Hello, Alexa," he automatically smirks, "Why am I not surprised we ran into each other -rather promptly I must say- after our first interaction."

I roll my eyes. "Please, Mr. Tongue. Knowing you, you're probably responsible for us being in the same class." I snort, "Jokes on you though, I'm not really a morning person."

He laughs rather loudly, causing a few heads to snap our way. "Oh, I go by the name Mr. Tongue now? And not to bust your ego or anything, but I decided on taking Psych instead of English Literature, it was too boring."

"Oh, and my name's Harry." He quickly adds.

I turn and face the front of the lecture hall. "Well, Harry, you didn't even bother mentioning your name previously. It's only fair I call you by the trivial tongue battle you tried to pull, although you're pretty adamant on calling it kissing."

"How about I try again later today?" he cockily retorts.

"What makes you think you'll be seeing me later today?"

"What makes you think I wouldn't be?"

I narrow my eyes at him, "Is this you attempting to ask me out smoothly?"

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