Aaron Verlice, the charismatic and talented quarterback of the university's football team, has always been known for his precision on the field and his charm off it. But few people know about his secret passion - art. Aaron's sketches and paintings...
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I settle into my seat in the lecture hall, the white rose bouquet resting on my lap. I make sure my seat has a prime view of the small platform, where Snowflake and a few other contestants will be presenting their global conflict campaigns later. I'm filled with pride and anticipation as I wait for my snowflake's turn to shine.
The auditorium is filled with people, their chattering and whispers filling the air. I scan the room, taking in the nervous expressions on the contestants' faces. Some are pacing back and forth, reciting their presentation to themselves, while others are silently taking deep breaths, trying to calm their nerves.
I turn my gaze back to the stage, my eyes skimming over the judges' table. The judges are engaged in a serious conversation, occasionally jotting down notes on their notepads. They exude an air of authority and expertise, undoubtedly experienced in judging presentations of this caliber.
My heart skips a beat as I spot Snowflake standing in the wings, her eyes darting around the room as she takes in the environment. She looks a mix of nervous and determined, her hands clenching and unclenching as she prepares herself for her turn.
I resist the urge to go up to her and offer some words of encouragement. I know she needs to focus and gather her thoughts before her presentation. Plus, the competition rules specifically state that contestants cannot receive any assistance during their allotted time. All I can do is sit here and watch, silently cheering her on.
I straighten my tie, adjusting it slightly. I try to look as dapper and supportive as possible. I want to show my snowflake that I have complete faith in her abilities and that I'm here for her.
I can feel the gazes of others on me, undoubtedly wondering why I, the campus heartthrob and recent graduate, am here, holding a bouquet of white roses. Well, it's not bragging to acknowledge my own popularity – it's just a fact that I command attention wherever I go.
'What can I say? I'm a famous man'
Some of the students, especially the girls, are whispering and shooting glances at me, their eyes lingering on the roses clutched in my hand. It's clear they're intrigued by my presence, wondering who the lucky lady could be who's about to receive these blossoms.
A few boys nod at me in greeting, recognizing me as their former captain and offering a respectful acknowledgement. But their eyes also darting curiously to the flowers in my possession, silently questioning who they're for.
The atmosphere in the room is charged with anticipation and speculation. The combination of my presence and the roses is creating quite the buzz. But I don't pay too much attention to the whispers and sidelong glances. My focus is entirely on the small platform, waiting for my snowflake to take center stage.
My thoughts are completely consumed by the upcoming presentation. Every other person, every other thing that normally captures my attention, pales in significance compared to my focus on my snowflake. All I care about is seeing her take the stage, deliver her campaign, and dazzle the judges with her intellect and passion.
