The Imperfect Girl

Chp. 1 - Welcome to College?

(Adeline)

So, the first day of college. Everyone else seemed to be radiating with this "I'm-so-excited" energy. Me? I was just trying to find a way to blend in without being trampled by the herd of overly enthusiastic freshmen.

The library was my hideout. It's like the last place anyone would look for a drama-filled scene or a raging party—perfect for a girl who'd rather be invisible. I took refuge among the stacks, the library's dim light and faint mustiness felt like my sanctuary. I planted myself in a corner with a view of the aisle, ready for an afternoon of literary escape.

Lectures were exactly as thrilling as I'd anticipated. The professor's attempt at humor was about as effective as a screen door on a submarine.

I kept my laughter to myself, channeling all my energy into not rolling my eyes. The lecture hall's plush seats were supposed to be an upgrade from high school desks, but they felt more like mini-traps.

The best part of the day was discovering the secluded garden—a secret oasis amidst the academic chaos. It was like stumbling onto an old friend who was too cool for the mainstream. Overgrown and slightly rebellious, it was my kind of place. I plopped down on a weathered bench, letting the tranquility wash over me, away from the superficial college hullabaloo.

(Damon)

Ah, the start of the second year. For me, the AMAZING Damon Scott, it was just another day to shine—or at least to charm and disrupt. My morning began with a leisurely stroll, taking in the scenery and mentally cataloging the new faces. It's amazing how some things never change, like my impeccable timing to arrive fashionably late.

Bus stop: the girls' restroom. Not exactly a classic hangout spot, but who said I was conventional? There, I bumped into a girl who seemed more interested in my notoriety than in, you know, actually talking. A few heated, stolen kisses and whispered promises later, I was off, leaving behind a bathroom full of murmurs and a slightly bemused janitor.

Next up was my usual hangout with friends. We gathered like old-school sitcom characters—loud, obnoxious, and hilariously self-centered. Flirting with any girl who made eye contact was part of the ritual. It was like a game where the goal was to see how many numbers we could collect before noon.

As I leaned back, surveying the campus, I thought about how easy it was to repeat a year when you had no real plans for the future.

College was just a playground, and I was here to make sure it stayed that way.

Today's mission: find out what kind of trouble I could stir up and who'd be unlucky enough to get tangled in it.

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