Untitled Part 1

Chapter 1

I woke up this morning at 6:30 because I had an amazing opportunity to sit in at a guest lecture at 8:30. Why? Why do I do this to myself? That was the first thought that came to my head as the incessant ringing from my phone played through my room. Because I'm a maddening over - achiever, that's why. I lugged the covers off of my legs and the cold wind I was greeted with laid goosebumps across my skin. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, watering from the lack of rest.
I couldn't sleep well last night. I don't know whether it was 5 episodes of The Great British Baking Show I binged watched, or the fact that it's 10 degrees in here. It's only fall. Winter is even worse, that's when you can die of hypothermia in your sleep. That's never actually happened, but wouldn't that be a great story?
Anyway, I stood up out of bed after putting socks on to shield my feet from the floor. I went straight to the bathroom. For some reason, lately I find myself staring at the mirror for longer than I should, not because I particularly like what I see, but because I want to know if something changed. Nothing in specific, just...change. I looked at my skin. No pimples or blemishes — no new ones, at least. Nose was the same. Same freckle on the bottom of my jaw. Hair, eyes, neck. All the same. What else? Maybe...I lifted my shirt. Nope. No change. Okay.
I did all the bathroom stuff I do everyday, go pee, wash my face, brush my teeth. Time check - 6:38. 20 more minutes to get ready, 10 to get there. 7:08. I'll stop for some coffee, call mom. I throw some clothes, mascara, and perfume on. Before I know it, I'm at the coffee cart.
"Rise and Shine Davina! Let me guess, a small Americano with an extra shot of espresso? Looks like you need it today...", said George, this tiny 5'4 man with the cutest Italian accent. He and his wife own a pretty nice coffee shop a few blocks from the school and the coffee cart was a smart way to draw in business. I have to admit, I'm a bit of a coffee connoisseur, and his coffee is the best I've had.
I roll my eyes playfully at him. "And don't forget the caramel biscotti, I NEED the caramel biscotti. Oh, and I get a buck off for the comment you made about my (I gesture to my face) beautiful appearance."
   "Ah, You know I was just kidding. You look wonderful...as always.", he snickers.
   "You flatter me too much, George." I bat my lashes playfully. He reminds me of my dad, his sense of humor.
   He hands me my coffee and biscotti, and we bicker about me paying, as always. Finally, I smack the 5 bill down on the cart and run off before he can continue. I don't need to run very fast, he's a 60 year old, slightly overweight man.
   I check the time before pulling up moms contact on my phone. It's exactly 7:08. I take a seat on a bench before pressing my phone to my ear.
   "Hey Sweets, how ya doing?" my mom's voice is always a comfort to me.
   "Hey Momma, I'm fine, just tired and cold, but that's why I have my coffee."
   "You're always cold over there. Wait a minute. It's only a bit past 7 over there. You already got coffee?"
   "We actually have a guest lecture and the professor giving it is supposed to be really good, so I thought I would go. I really like this class so it might be interesting."
   "Sounds great. How's Dre—." I hear the doorbell ring. "Well Toots, I have a lunch date with Tracy, she says she misses you!"
   "Tell her I miss just as much. Oh, and Riles too. Love you, mom." We say goodbye. Tracy and Riley  are our— well, my moms neighbors. I used to babysit Riley all the time. She's such a sweet little girl. She's mildly dyslexic so she pronounces my name "Dapina". I've never the heart to correct, plus I think it's cute. Tracy is a single mom. After dad died, she was really there for my mom, so we love her.
   I take a sip of my coffee and see out of the corner of my eye, someone sitting next to me. It sort of startled me because I didn't notice anyone sit down. It's a boy, around my age, maybe a bit older. He's reading The Catcher in the Rye. Holden Caulfield is one of my favorite literary characters.
   "That's one of my favorites." I say, gesturing to the book. He looks up at me. Wow. He has beautiful hazel eyes and olive skin. He's very handsome and I find myself nervous.
   "Were you speaking to me?", he asked.
   "Mhm, yeah, I was." I say awkwardly.
   "Uh, yeah, I like it too, that's why I'm reading it." he responds, quite rudely if I'm being honest.
   This is awkward. Maybe me commenting was weird, but that's just who I am. And he didn't have to be so rude about it.
   "Well, I was just saying. There's no need to be rude." I said quite condescendingly.
   "Rude? I was sitting here, peacefully, until you came to sit down, talking to your mom about coffee and what-not, distracting me from my reading, then you call me rude?".
   My jaw drops. "I was just saying I liked your book!", I say in sort of a hushed yell. I get up, extremely pissed off and begin walking towards the commons to see if they'll let me into the bookstore on campus just a bit early. It's only 7:22, so I have some time to kill. And honestly maybe it will cheer me up after that terrible encounter. Gosh, some people have some REAL issues.
   The book store light is on but the doors are still locked. It's 7:28 and they open at 7:30. I can wait. Plus, as I'm looking around I spot Danny by the vending machine, eating some of the vendable Froot Loops with a cup of coffee from his dads cart.
   "George is mean to me. Ya know, he said I looked like I needed an extra shot of espresso." I pouted.
   "Shut up, you know my dad loves you. Plus, if it helps, I think you look great."
   "Doesn't help one bit." I smiled and he laughed. Danny's pretty handsome. I feel like he looks like what George looked like when he was younger, only taller, Dan is about 6 feet. Truthfully, Danny is one of my best friends. He was my first friend here, actually. Freshman year was hard and he made it easier. Being a few weeks into my Sophomore year, I've made a few more, but Danny's still an A - lister.
   "I'm waiting for this stupid bookstore to open to cheer me up." I point to the closed sign on the door.
   "Why do you need cheering up?"
   "Some people are just butt cheeks. I sat down on a park bench to call my mom and after, I told this guy next to me that I liked the book he was reading and he got all pissy about it and went on and on about how he was there first and reading peacefully and blah blah blah."
   "Maybe the guy was just having a bad day?"
   "It's 7:30 in the morning.". I lift my eyebrows. "The day hasn't even started yet."
   "Well, not everyone can be as enthusiastic as you.", he mocks me. I ignore him because I finally see the book shop clerk opening the door. I close up the conversation quickly and he laughs because he knows why.
   "Have a good day, D!".
   I spend the rest of my time in the bookstore, mostly looking at the beautiful editions of my favorite novels. I'm a classics girl. You know, Bronte, Austen, even some greek tragedies.
   I get to the classroom right on time, before the crowd. I like to be early because I have so many options for seating. Weirdly enough I like to sit almost all the way in the back, in order to see everything that is going on. I don't want to miss something. I see the sign on the door, Oscar Davis, Psychology 101 & World Religions. Mr. Davis is great. I can't wait to see who he brings in.
   I get to my seat in the back. I spend some time checking emails and assignments and at 8:15 most of the class joins me in the room, all racing to get to the front. Maybe that's a habit of theirs. See, this is why I like psychology. I get to psychoanalyze people. It's basically finding out what creates  problems in real life, in relationships. I know that's what I want to go into, I just don't know what specifically.
   It's now 8:36 and Prof. Davis closes his laptop and stands up, greeting the woman who had just walked through the door, hugging her. She's beautiful. I assume she's the guest today.
   "Students! Thank you for joining us today. We will begin shortly. I want to start by speaking about our special guest today. During Ted Bundy's trial, she and her team worked to learn as much about his
personality as they could. She spearheaded a project focused on collecting and analyzing data to determine what the off-balance was, what made him tick. Since then, she has been named one of the most famed psycho-analysts in the country. She's also a great friend of mine— which is why she's here today. You all better show some respect because I had to do a lot of convincing...okay? Okay! Introducing Lucille Parran!" he says, gesturing towards her.
"Hello students! Let's get started." she says in a heavy British accent.
   It's 9:13 when I hear the loud metal doors clank. Everybody, including myself, look up from our notes. I mean, c'mon. Other than Lucille taking, there was no other noise in the room and she was just about to start on about fetal defects. Ugh, really?
   A man walked into the room, about 6'2 wet dark hair, about my age or just a bit old— wait. That's the pissy guy from the bench. Okay. So he ruins my morning then interrupts my lecture?
   "Good morning, mister...?" Lucille asks the rude boy.
   "Uh, Hayden. Mister Hayden. Sorry for my tardiness. I got— well I wa-".
   "Um, that's...fine. Just please take a seat, if you can find one, that is." she interrupts him.
   I look at the hall. It's completely packed, except for my row in the back, so I expect him to leave instead of watch from a "terrible" seat. Instead, he turns my way and comes into the row with the only seats available.