Eighteen year-old Zach Curtis has lost everything: his girlfriend, his job and his scholarship. Nothing in the world matters anymore, until he receives a rude awakening from a stranger.
Petite and awkward, Terra Quinn is living the life with her bes...
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– Zach –
It has been a week since I enrolled in Glenworth. I need a social break, badly.
The amount of interaction the lecturers expect from their students combined with, as I have noticed since day one, the level of extroversion in my peers, are leaving me exhausted from the very act of breathing itself. Here, seemingly everyone I am obliged to meet wants to know more than my name, diving straight into 'fun' questions such as my preference between dogs or cats, followed by which breed and some facts about the animal kingdom that I never asked for.
Not every conversation sounds like that, but close.
I'm not sure if I can keep up with the vibrant culture for much longer. It's proving to be too bright for me.
Luke on the other hand, only gets increasingly excited with each day. Fortunately for him (and unfortunately for me), club activities commence today, and he is on the edge of his seat, waiting to embrace the chances of seeing Abby.
Meanwhile, I'm just praying to not get murdered by sociability. I'm suddenly a really religious person.
"Is my hair okay?" Luke asks nervously.
We are in the men's bathroom and we've been here for almost ten minutes. It gets really uncomfortable when someone doesn't bother closing the cubicle door.
"Your hair looks the same all the time." I say candidly.
"No, it looks different I swear, especially when I'm having a bad hair day or something." He says while ruffling his hair again.
"Do you think she'll notice that?" I ask.
"She has to, right?" he frowns and pauses for a moment. "I mean, if she pays as much attention to me as I do to her."
"Well, do you like her any less if her hair is a little less tidy?" I say as I watch him push his hair backwards forcefully and letting go, only to have it flop downwards again.
"What, of course not." Luke makes a face, stating the obvious.
"There, you've got your answer." I shrug.
Luke smiles a sideways smile and leaves his hair alone, giving up on trying to improve it, although it looks the same. He scratches the back of his head and turns to face me.
"Alright, you win." He chuckles.
We finally leave the bathroom and we wait for the clock to strike four. I have to confess, for a guy that barely gives a damn about anything, I'm actually putting twice as much thought into this club...thing. I've been questioning myself as to why I didn't pull out when I could and choose the option of taking up another class instead, knowing full well that I'm just scarcely on-board with joining the Support Group.
