Hendrix ✓

4 ★ Useless

𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 - 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℝ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤

" He's tellin' me

more and more

about some

useless information "

Cedric POV

      I rumble up to the school with something akin to anger. Or maybe it's anxiety, I'm not quite sure. I haven't felt anxiety in years. Who knows how long it's been since the ridiculous emotion has riddled me.

     Staring up at the historical building in front of me, I cringe. I am nervous after all. This isn't what I expected. I'm not afraid of anything, most certainly not a bunch of college aged human students.

     Maybe I'm afraid that I'll kill someone if they get on my nerves. It is possible.

     I park my bike, slipping off the motorcycle with a glare. I don't want to go in there. I don't want to have a meeting with the school's President. Shoving my keys in my pocket, I know I have no other choice.

     This is necessary, this is the whole reason I came out here in the first place. I won't let some meeting with some infuriating little human stand in my way. I've already met him, spoke with him, but today is my first day on the job, and they need to make sure everything is in "tip top shape." At least, that's what the email said.

     Pathetic humans.

     Large letters spell out "Administrations" above the double doors. I roll my shoulders while I enter the building, still not accustomed to the way the button up shirt clings to my chest like a skin. Savannah picked them out and bought them on my dime, she insisted that's how they're supposed to fit, but I don't believe her. I know better.

     No male should be confined to skin tight clothing.

     When I walk to the front desk, I quietly observe the woman behind the desk. She's middle aged with fine lines decorating her face. Her pink sweater has kittens on it. Wire rimmed glasses hang off the edge of her hooked nose while she concentrates on a crossword puzzle in her lap, completely oblivious to my arrival.

     Does the gazelle ever notice the lion poised to strike?

     Once I get to the counter, I clear my throat.

     The female glances up casually, then does a double take when she spots me. Her eyes widen and her pink painted mouth parts. The scent of her fear wrinkles my nose, but I try to mask the distaste quickly.

     I can't draw any more attention.

     "I have an 8 o'clock with Dr.Irwin." I explain, tight lipped as the human continues to stare at me like I'm some kind of museum attraction.

     Her cheap perfume wafts around me along with her fear and arousal. I'm not unobservant or naive, a lot of women scent of arousal when they see me, but there is always that hint of fear engulfing it. I always smell fear when I'm around another living soul.

     Everyone is scared of me.

     The woman pushes her chest in the air, her breasts straining against her sweater in an obvious plea to draw my eyes there. It works, but not in the way she wants it to.