Evan Peters Imagines and One Shots

Conceited - Kyle Spencer

The term 'Mean Girl' never sat right with me, especially when you're honest. If other people can't handle honesty, that's their fault. Contrary to what Outkast sang, I'd like to think that my shit didn't stink- that's why I carry perfume. Some would say I was conceited. The world viewed confidence in many styles. If people thought I was arrogant, then so be it. I'd rather be cocky than how I used to be, allowing other's words to bring me down. I'd take thick, bitchy skin over mental breakdowns any day.

My class started minutes ago, but I could always go to the library and read about the parts I'd missed or flirt with some random boy to get them. They say the professors never cared if you were late for your classes, but my literature professor never got the memo. Neither did any of my classmates. All eyes were upon me as I strode into the room.

"Nice of you to join us, Y/n. I'm surprised you showed up," my professor mocked.

"That I'd have to agree on, considering you teach the same basics I learned in middle school. I could've got a credit for your class in 6th grade, yet I'm here," I argued.

Ever since my first day, she would nitpick for no reason, which was why Literature was the only class I was late to. We glared at each other as I took a seat, everyone peering at me as I did. Contrary to popular belief, having all the attention made me uncomfortable. Even if I was the best creation since sliced bread, attention was never my forte.

It took all my strength to keep myself from dozing off in her class. Her teaching style was old-school and uninteresting. I'm not saying that your class should focus on entertainment, but students remember more if you add a little excitement to their courses. But who was I to judge? I didn't have a degree yet.

Her voice made my brain feel like shutting down, and it did as I dozed off onto the table in front of me. The nap was better than anything my professor was talking about. Attending this boring ass class at 7 in the morning should be a crime; it's mentally exhausting and inhumane.

Time could only tell how long I was asleep as I lifted my head from the table and looked around to ensure I hadn't slept longer than I wanted. I'd awakened to a joy as my eyes met the boy next to me. He wasn't there when I fell asleep, but I had no complaints. The shaggy-haired blonde jotted in his notebook. He was talented. I'd never met someone who could make writing look hot. God, I was thirsty, and he was a tall glass of water.

"Glad to see I woke up at the right moment. I'm Y/n," I greeted.

"Glad to see you woke up at all. I'm Kyle," he responded

"I'm like a phoenix. I only awaken when the moment is right and looks like you're worth it. You're welcome," I flirted.

"You're a little cocky, aren't you," he questioned.

"I prefer the term 'self-aware.' So, Kyle, what brought you to sit in my humble space," I responded.

"Well, if you were awake, you would know that we were assigned to be partners in a project," Kyle stated.

"Oh. Well, is the project hands-on because we can start on that after class," I toyed.

"This is going to be a long month, and no, it's strictly writing," He sighed.

"Not long enough, but hey, you know what they say- the best stories come from experience. So, if we're going to ace this assignment, we need to make some memories," I fooled.

"You know what. I must applaud you. I've never seen this much persistence in flirting, and I'm a part of a frat, so that says a lot. We can go over the details after class, but that's it. Nothing more," he confided.

"I gotcha. Work first, then I get what I want," I said.

"Please go back to sleep. I'll wake you up when class is over," Kyle suggested.

"Awe, you're so sweet. You know what, Kyle, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship with possible benefits. I'll see you in my dreams," I expressed.

Kyle could pretend he had no interest, but I knew his type. It would only be a matter of time before he'd be wrapped around my finger. Until then, another nap was calling my name.