Avalon Apollo always wanted to pursue a career in the art industry; however, bad habits and free range was always her downfall. Attending her first year of Barlowe Centennial University, Avalon found what she always needed, what she needed in order...
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Walking away from Oliver, he calls out:
"You weren't in class today."
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
This season changing crap has messed with my allergies causing me to wake a with a torturous headache. Also the amount of alcohol I consumed last night, but I'm blaming it on the allergies.
Anyways, I woke up, felt like shit, took some medicine, then went back to sleep, skipping first lecture.
About an hour later, I woke back up, still with a lingering headache but decided to go to the food court and get something to eat. I too have begun reading for the project,
The classic, the original, the most cliché of them all.
Romeo and Juliet.
I never understood why or how a writer could give a character all these adventures to overcome, and just when they think they're safe, the writer says... "I've got a perfect idea! I'll kill my characters!" then bam, an unhappy ending.
I'm not one for too much romance, but Romeo and Juliet should've been together and happy. But I guess that's what makes it the theatric it is.
Continuing my walk back to the dining area, and trying to navigate my way out of this wilderness, I finally come across an exit.
After a couple minutes of walking through the grass and onto a concrete sidewalk, I walk down the path leading to the food hall in order to make my way to my next lecture.
"Hey, Sweetcake, how's it going?" I hear a joyful voice call out to me while walking past the library.
Fawk.
"Ah, Caleb, how nice it is to see you again." I turn, smiling at him.
"Cameron." He corrects with a grin on his face.
"Oh right." I say matching his cheerful tone and continue walking.
He runs up from behind me, now walking side by side.
"So Sweetcake, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat with me?" He asks, stammering over his words.
Is he asking me out?
I stop in my track, turning my body to face him, "Are you asking me out?"
A small smirk crawl across his face. Again, he's not ugly, definitely not ugly.
"Maybe I am." Cameron shrugs.
"Where are your goons, Cameron?" I ask, lazily.
"Out and about." He responds, "So?"
He stands over me in his black jeans and black t- shirt, his confidence faltering the longer I take to consider his offer.
Fuck. I mean, what else am I going to do? Sit in bed all night and listen to Cove fan girl over the boys on Too Hot To Handle?
