Screw Fate

Chapter 2

Lizzie scampers into the room towards a bed with lavender bedsheets tucked neatly and fairy twinkle lights hanging on the wall. "I hope you don't mind, I already unpacked. Your bed's over there!" She points to the other end of the room. There's a wall blocking most of the space from view, which I am immensely grateful for. I can't sleep at all if there are lights.

I didn't bring much, so it doesn't take me long to unpack. By the time I'm finished, Lizzie is popping bubble gum and playing on her phone.

"Uh, do you know where the common area is?" I ask, approaching her.

"Yeah! You just go to the bottom of the stairs, turn right, keep walking until you see a bench under a tree, then turn left, and keep walking straight. Then you'll be there."

"Okay, thanks." I grab my laptop bag and walk to the common area. It's actually a nice temperature, so I feel comfortable sitting on a bench and working for a while. I'm an author, and I'm a romantic sap, so if I'm not going to find true love---ahem Zander Orthran ahem---then one of my characters will.

I feel odd after a while, as if someone is watching me. I look up and see a guy about my age watching me. He has curly black hair and fair features. From what I can tell, he's tall and fit. He'd be pretty attractive if he weren't watching me like a madman.

"Can I help you?" I ask, just a tad bit concerned.

"Yeah. I have a question."

"Yes?"

"What happened to your hair this morning? It looks sort of like you laid down in front of a lawnmower."

This fucking jerk! My hair isn't perfect, but for riding here in a jeep without doors, it's doing pretty darn good. It's in a messy brown ponytail down to my waist, rather than an afro.
I roll my eyes and turn back to my computer. "It's been worse. The day before freshman year, some kid on my bus decided to give me a haircut. I had to fix it on my own in the school bathroom."

Silence.

I glance over at the guy. He's staring at me with one eyebrow raised. He's completely still.

"Um, hey? You still alive?"

"Wish I weren't."

"Gee, thanks."

He's quiet for a while, so I start working on my story again.

"What's this crud?" I hear from over my shoulder. I look up to see the boy reading over my shoulder. He grabs my laptop and starts scrolling through.

"Hey!" I shout, trying to take it back. What the hell?! When did he get over here anyway? My efforts are fruitless; that stupid jerk is way taller than I am. Fuck. I end up shoving him, but not hard enough that he'd fall over. I'm not an idiot. I don't want to lose my laptop! My mom would kill me! I give up after realizing that there's no way he'll give it back. I sit on the bench and stare at his reactions. He seems to be fighting off a smile at some parts, but that could be my imagination.

He finally finishes after about twenty minutes, before he closes my laptop with a snap and throws it on the table next to me. Then he does the unthinkable: he smiles at me! What is this? What's going on?

Oh, nope. My mistake. He's smirking.

"It sucks," he states, then he stomps over to sit down on the other end of the area.

Wow.

That's all I have to say.

Wow.

You might know---if you're a writer anyway---the worst feeling in the history of the universe is when someone says that something you wrote "sucks." I spent hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and- well, you get the point. I spent so long planning and outlining and writing and editing.

I bite my lip to distract myself from inner pain with outward pain. Nevertheless, I feel tears starting to well up in my eyes.

The guy looks over at me, and I turn away from him. He does not get to have the satisfaction of seeing me upset because of something he did.

I hear him get up, his footsteps echoing softly in the otherwise silent area. I bite my lip again, but I stop when the taste of blood fills my mouth. Great. Something else to deal with.

"Hey," the guy's voice comes.

I don't grant him an answer. I have earned a bit of spite.

"Hey!" His voice is louder this time. I get up from my bench and walk away from him.
"Real mature," he sneers. "Walking away."

I turn to face him, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Mature. What a great word. Would you like me to show you mature?" My voice cracks, but I ignore it.

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, but not for long, seeing as I use the moment to my advantage by kneeing him... you know where. Then I scoop up my laptop and walk towards my dorm without looking back other than one time, and it's just to jeer, "How's that for mature, asshole?"

A/N
Author: *falls in love with own character* don't mind meeee