Gifted

3 ~ Love

   LIT class wasn't really as boring as Izzy said. It was actually interesting. But if there's one word I understood all throughout my Lit Class, it's love.

    Not that I haven't heard it before, it just didn't catch my attention. The professor seems to be bent on making us love, or at least like, the "best novelist of all time" in his opinion, Austen.

    I would have included Shakespeare on my own list, but one guy from my class raised his hand and said "Why isn't William Shakespeare here!? He's like... the best novelist, ever!" and I immediately know he's not a guy. Well, he's a guy outside, but on the inside... well.

   The professor looked stunned, then annoyed. Then, talk about sass, the bitter, old man Izzy was talking about cleared his throat and removed all the pretense of keeping his cool. "William. Shakespeare. Is. Not. A. Novelist." he said, emphasizing every word.

    "Then what about Romeo and Juliet? Hamlet? Othello?"

  "You clearly have no idea of the things you say. The plays you just said are, admittedly, romantic, but again, they're plays. You should have known better." And the rest of the class went by with very random summary readings of some stories by Austen, then our insight about them before we discussed them one by one.

    But I couldn't help wondering, did these people actually learn from their own experiences? Did they find love then lost it? Did they just make it up? Are they really that great being storytellers that they can weave ideas into such a great novel?

    "And now, pair yourselves for the said activity." Judging by the "said", I assume the activity's been said, and I didn't hear it. A second later, someone's beside me...

    "I assume you don't have a partner." said a familiar voice. Okay, fine, it's not that familiar. I just recall hearing it....

    "Yes..." and just when I finally remembered where I heard that voice... I knew it before Isaw his face. "What are you doing here!?"

     "No need to be so rude. I study here, too, you know..." a cockier side of the boy we met on the shore last night was bearing down on me. And I hate it. I don't like cocky people. Especially when they're also hot. "And I'm here to save your life."

    Well, I shouldn't be, but I think I'm blushing. Hell no. No no no no.

    "And why do you suppose I need saving?"

    "Because you have no idea what our professor said for the past 5 minutes." Riiiiiight. And seeing that he's right, he laughs...cockily. Ugh. "See? You can't survive this class without listening. The book can only take you so far in Literature. You have to join the discussion."

   "I know. I was just... distracted."

    "Part of the adjustment, I hope. What's your name, by the way?"

    If there's more of him in this school, I don't think I'd last a day. "Give me one good reason why I'd tell you my name."

    "Uhm, cause I won't help you unless you tell me? Or that I'd know it anyway since the task requires both of us writing our names on the paper? I could give you more, but that's one more reason than you asked for."

    "Well, you'd have to learn it by the latter, then. What do we need to do?" I give him my paper and let him take the lead. Well, men don't really dominate the guts department.

    "Okay, fine." He starts to write his name. "Your turn." he gives me the paper and pen.

   "I have my own, thank you." I return his pen back to him, cockily. Huh.

   "You know something?" He raises his eyebrow at me. "You're such a bitch for someone new."

    A hot guy telling you you're a bitch. Ouch.

   "And I like it."

   "What?" that took me by surprise.

    "I'm saying, I like you, Laylah Reed." and I didn't even realize I've written my name already. Hot guys are like... the most dangerous kind of drugs. They should be banned from the public.