As I savored the tender chicken fettuccine, "Mmm, the food is delicious!" I exclaimed, closing my eyes in rapture. Angel, sitting across from me in the bustling canteen, nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with delight as she indulged in her grilled chicken Caesar salad, adorned with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Alex, settling into the chair beside me, joined us with a tray bearing a steaming plate of pan-seared salmon and quinoa.
"So, Alex, what drew you to Oakdale University?" Angel asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as she speared a crouton.
Alex's smile faltered for a moment before he replied, "I relocated and had to switch schools. Oakdale was the best option." His eyes clouded, and his voice trailed off.
Angel's probing continued, "And your parents?"
For a moment there was silence, leaving only an uncomfortable silence. Alex's countenance transformed, his bright smile surrendering to a sorrowful mask. "They passed away when I was young," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
My heart went out to him, and I instinctively reached out, squeezing his hand in a comforting gesture. "Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
Angel's eyes widened, her expression a mixture of regret and empathy. She seemed to be silently berating herself for prying.
Alex's gaze drifted, his eyes welling up with unshed tears. "It's okay...it's been a long time. I've learned to cope." His voice cracked, and he paused, collecting himself. "After they passed, I lived with my uncle, but I left as soon as I turned eighteen. I wanted to forge my own path."
I tightened my grip on his hand, offering what little comfort I could. "You're not alone, Alex. We're here for you."
Angel nodded in fervent agreement, her face etched with remorse. "Yes, we're here for you, Alex. You're part of our little family now.
As I savored the last bite of my fettuccine, the canteen's atmosphere underwent a palpable shift, like a whispered secret spreading wildfire. Chants and smiles erupted, a contagious enthusiasm that swept through the room like a summer breeze. "Oh my god, it's him!" a girl beside our table squealed, tapping her friend's arm with an air of excitement.
Angel's eyes sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight as she turned to me, her gaze a glow with a mixture of fascination and awe. "It's Ethan Blackwood, Emma," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din, as she tapped my hand gently, her touch sending shivers down my spine.
I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "And what's so special about him?" I asked, my tone laced with a hint of skepticism, like a challenge thrown into the wind.
Angel's expression transformed, her eyes widening in disbelief, like a door ajar to a hidden world. "You don't know who he is?...jeez girl...his father is a business mogul, a titan of industry, and his mother, a goddess of fashion, owns a cosmetics empire worth billions!..let's talk about him now, he's owns sixty percent of his father's wealth, own a company that worth millions, he's build-up athlete, everything about him was fucking awesome" Her words tumbled forth like a cascading waterfall, each phrase more breathtaking than the last.
I shrugged, my shoulders barely rising off the chair, like a leaf rustling in the breeze. "So what? That doesn't give him the right to be rude." My voice was a gentle rebuke, a soft rain shower on a summer's day. If people were to act that way just because of their family's wealth, almost Oakdale student will be rude because most of us came from families that were fucking rich.
Angel's gaze lingered on me, her eyes sparkling with amusement, like fireflies dancing in the night. "You're something else, Emma, when was he ever rude?" she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. Oh i remember I haven't told her about what happened.
