The End Of It All

Freshman Year

     It was my freshman year of college when I met him. I say "met him", but Tyler Underwood never even acknowledged my existence. No, he was too preoccupied with his friend Parker and his girlfriend Sarah.

     Flashback to my first day of college, 2016. Freshmen never get the best pick of classes, so my first lecture, English Literature 103, was at 7:15 in the morning. I dressed nicely (out of habit due to my upbringing on "first days of school") in a black babydoll tank-top that flared out slightly at the waist, dark blue skinny jeans, and nude ballet flats. Complete with a small black bow clipped to the side of my fawn-brown hair, my mother would have approved of how put-together I looked. "The first day of school is the first day of impressions," she would always say.

     I had gotten to my class early that morning and selected a seat in the very top row of seats, all the way in the corner. English was always my best and favorite subject, but I wasn't yet confident enough to sit in the very front. But that was alright. After all, I still had three more years in this very room to work up my courage.

Of course not.

     I was too preoccupied with nervously fiddling with my brand new notebook, that I didn't notice a group of obnoxious people sit down in front of me until a hand slapped my notebook with a loud smack. I jumped and squeaked, my head shooting up. I was met with four faces, three of which were screwed up in laughter. Attractive faces at that.

     The one furthest from me belonged to a tan boy with ruffled, fried-looking bleached-blonde hair and bushy eyebrows. His eyes were squeezed shut, so I couldn't make out the color of his irises. Next to him was a boy with soft, dark brown hair and stunningly bright blue eyes. Despite the boy being sat down, I could tell he was a good deal taller compared to his friends. Next to him was a gorgeous girl with long, dark hair. She also had piercing blue eyes and clear, pale skin. The taller boy and her must've been siblings. Next to her was another boy, but this one made my heart skip a beat.

     This boy was the only one not laughing but had his plump blush-pink lips in a crooked smirk. He was clean-shaven and his black hair was styled like that of a sixties greaser, his bangs making a swoop above his wide forehead. Behind black, square-framed glasses were two dark brown eyes slightly squinted to complete his smirk.

     My face was hot like the fever I had when I was seven. They were still laughing at me. Why were they laughing? I realized it was probably because I got scared, making my face grow even warmer as I hung my head in embarrassment.

     The laughter died out and fingers snapped in my face. "Hey, you!" My head shot up again and I realized it was the attractive boy with glasses trying to get my attention.

     "Hey, Abercrombie. I asked you a question." My mouth twitched, trying to form words. "I-I'm sorry. Could you repeat it? The-the question?" The boy's eyebrows shot up from behind his glasses in fake amazement. They were thick but not nearly as messy as the tan boy's. He also had a small scar on the corner of his right eyebrow. My apologies–my right, his left.

     "She speaks, you guys! I thought she was mute or something!" His friends chuckled as he turned and smiled at them, revealing perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. He turned back to me and cocked his brow (the one without the scar).

     "I asked if you had an extra pencil. Do you?" I felt nervous under his gaze, which was probably why I stuttered back my response. "O-oh yeah. I've got one."

     I scrambled to get my pencil case out of my backpack. I could hear the other three snickering and feel the attractive boy watching my struggle carefully. When I finally handed a spare pencil to him, he smiled toothily once more. "Thanks, doll."